At That Moment ✔

🤍.6

26th march 2023

KARAN'S POV

“Can you not take me home right now ?... muje ab gar nahi jana hai ” she asks, her voice so low I barely make out the words.

“Muje nahi lagtha  ki that I can face my parents  normally  .”

“Sure.” I replied

I wait a beat, not wanting to let go of her hand, but needing to get her out of here before the coach and team leave the school.

Releasing her hand, I put the car in drive and leave the parking lot. At the stop sign, I debate with myself about where I can take us.

In the end, I make a decision, and probably not a wise one.
Ten minutes later, in which the car is filled with silence, I pull into my driveway. Preeta looks around.

“yeh aapka gar hai kya ?” she asks.

“Yes.” I keep the car  shut.

“We don’t have to go inside. We can stay out here for as long as you need, then I can take you home.”

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, looking out the windshield. After a moment, she says,

“I’d like to go inside if that’s alright with you. Would you mind if I freshen up in your bathroom before you take me home?”

“Zarror ..... ek min ruko .”

I get out of my car and walk to her side. She’s already unbuckled when I open her door. My hands itch to help her down, but I keep them at my sides, ready to help if she has trouble. Her head moves from side to side, looking at everything she can, as we walk the sidewalk leading to my front door. I unlock the door and gesture with my hand for her to enter.

My house, a single-story brick, looks old on the outside but has been remodeled on the inside.

“ mein is ghar kuch sal pehle laya tha ....  and have been slowly remodeling. Anthar ka tho  mostly done. I’m starting work on the outside soon,”  I tell her, tossing my keys on the table beside the couch.

She looks around for several seconds, taking in everything she can see. I turn and look as well, seeing the living room through her eyes. She’s young and probably thinks my style is boring compared to the more hip styles young people like these days.

I have a brown leather, L-shaped couch with a big screen TV on the wall opposite. End tables sit on each end of the couch and a coffee table in front of it. In one corner sits a bookshelf filled with old mystery and crime books.

The walls are painted a light gray and the shades hanging over the windows are beige. There’s nothing spectacular going on, but it’s comfortable.

“This is nice, bahoot kubsoorat hai ! Aapka ghar” she comments.

I pull my eyes away from the living room and point them at her. She looks so small and fragile standing there with her hands clasped tightly together in front of her and her bottom lip once again caught between her teeth.

She has no idea how fucking badly I want to pull that lip free and bite it with my own teeth;

how goddamn hard it is to keep my hands at my sides and not put them all over her body.

For as long as I’ve been a high school teacher, I’ve never been tempted by one of my students before. So what in the hell is it about this girl that makes me want to throw caution to the wind, not to mention risk my career, just to have a simple taste?