Like Chalk And Cheese [Completed]

I am a buffoon

A week before the tragedy, I happen to remember quite accurately for obvious reasons, Wajiha ( my youngest uncle's daughter ) had called her cousin to our house. She needed him to take her to the club his father had gotten him a membership for, and so would be the schedule for the next few weeks. Wajiha was an excellent swimmer, and a club was exactly what she needed to get back into practice for the Local Swimming Championship next month.

So her cousin was coming over for the first time, I knew because when I accidentally ran into him, I was sure I was seeing him for the first time.

So what happened was, I thought it was Bisma (oldest uncle's youngest daughter), when I saw the shadow as I was pressed against the wall, and I was about to jump out of the hiding to give her a fright, and I even freaking did! I skipped out of the hiding like a stupid monkey, only to have my eyes looking at an unfamiliar face of a frigging boy! Obviously, he was eyeing me like I was a disgusting weirdo, and then to put cherry on the cake, he even burst out laughing. All too good.

Heat spread up my neck and my ears burned. I immediately turned to sprint out of his sight, but he held me back by taking my wrist, surprising me out of my wits. I flushed as I wrenched my hand from his grip, and schooled my face into an expression of indignation.

"Who are you?" He asked, mirth still dancing in his gold brown eyes.

"Warda. And I wasn't here to scare you. It was for Bisma." I hastily provided.

He switched languages, and said the next sentence in heavily accented English. Oh my God, was he the cousin who studied all his school years in London, and was now back for he wanted to get into AKU for his medical studies? "Of course you weren't. Warda, huh? Wajiha never told me she had a cute cousin."

I was rendered blanched. He looked only a couple of years older than me. How dare he uttered those words just like that?! If Baba got to hear, he would surely break his legs. And mine too.

To avoid any such thing, and for the matters to not escalate, I whipped around and sprinted off.

"Hey!" I heard his surprised voice call out behind my back.

I later learned that day that his name was Mohib.

And Mohib returned the next day, to my utmost annoyance.

Okay, maybe not annoyance, but I wasn't really pleased too.

Fine! I was.

---

He came again the next day to pick Wajiha up. I was on the terrace and, when he happened to glance in my direction, he passed me a freaking wink! I flushed and ran to my room. Honestly, if Baba found out, he'd ground me for life.

---

I knew he'd be there daily for the coming month, so I kept in my room the next day, and the one after that too, and I wanted the things to remain that way. My luck though, had other plans quite contrasting to the ones I did.

Therefore, when I did come out of my room to get myself some nuggets, I had completely forgotten that it was the time of Wajiha's return. Even if I did, I don't suppose it should have happened anyway. I mean seriously, what the hell was he doing in the kitchen of our house! Who gave him the permission to go about wandering in our house?

I had only taken a step inside when I spotted him by the water cooler, chugging in some water from the glass. I was about to slip out when he called my name.

"Hey, Warda! Are you avoiding me?"

I arched my body a little, refusing to turn around to face him, so he could get the idea that I was absolutely not looking forward to having a nice little chat with him. But of course, he blind to all such cues. "Yes!" I raised an eyebrow, I hated stating the obvious.

His face became a mask of confusion. "Why?"

"Because I don't know you." I shrugged.

"That's not a problem." He said, and then putting the glass on the counter he started towards me. "I'm Mohib."

The way he said it, with a warm smile spread on his face and the careful steps towards me, got my stomach to do a somersault. No boy had ever tried to approach me like that ever before, I was bound to be nervous. I was not to be blamed, though. I had always studied in an all-girls school and all the events and weddings I had ever attended up to date always had seperated gatherings for men and women. Wherever I went, I did so with my cousins, and was never given the permission to hangout with my school friends.

I have had zero contact with the opposite gender. So right now, I couldn't move, because he was so close I could smell his deodorant, even though I had my back at him. I was also very scared, because if someone should come to the kitchen, it was going to be the end of me.

"And I think you're really cute, so please turn around." He didn't wait, no, but he held me by the shoulders, and made me face him. Who did he think he was, Prince freaking Charming? I was gawking at him like a buffoon and I wanted to smack myself for that. "Why don't you come with Wajiha tomorrow? While she swims, let's have our time at the club, yeah?" He arched his eyebrows and let his hands fall down from my shoulders.

I was panicking. WAS HE SERIOUSLY INVITING ME TO A DATE?! Somebody please tell him that's not the way things work here in Pakistan! "I don't think so." Give me some credit, I managed that sentence through an erratically breathing heart, and turned. I should have known it was needless to do so, for he caught me wrist and pulled me towards him. I had to bring my hand out on his shoulder to stop our chests from colliding. Weak at my knees, I couldn't muster up the energy to protest.

Was he aware what he was doing to me?

"Why? Come on, Warda, it's going to be fun. I'll get a Prince from Lal Qila to welcome you there, if that's what you want."

I could not hear his words. It felt gibberish to me. I could only feel his fingers curled around my wrist. "Let me go." I croaked in a pathetically low voice.

Thank God, he immediately obliged. "I'm sorry. Would you come?" I hated how his eyes were all hope.

I shook my head as I stepped back.

"How would I get to know you then?" He put it in a way as if it was some very grave dilemma he and I should bring our heads together to deal with.

I shrugged, dying to get out of here so my heart could take a rest from the marathon that it seemed adamant on running.

Something changed in his expression. Was he hurt? He simply looked at me for a moment and then nodded. "Okay."

I saw him step around me, and walk out of the kitchen with his hands shoved into the pockets, a carefree look, yet charming in its own. As I saw him leave, I felt weirdly miserable.

To say I couldn't stop thinking about him would be an understatement. He was the first boy ever! How could I stop thinking about him? He was literally the only thing on my mind for the next two days. Even though he came to pick and then drop Wajiha daily, and we did happen to run into each other since I am functionally unable to stay in my room for long, he didn't try to talk to me. And that my dear friends, was the worst feeling I had gone through in all my twenty years of life.

---