First Time Ever

First Sleep Over

Chapter-4

First Sleep-over

That night my dreams were filled with blue eyes and promises, which was weird to say the least. I usually didn’t dream and when I did, I rarely remembered them. Somehow I remembered this one vividly as if it wasn’t a dream but reality.

“You look dreamy,” Lita commented over breakfast.

“I am fine, just a little nervous,” I lied.

“You should be,” Rose glided into the room in a faded blue jeans and white shirt. It looked so good on her that I couldn’t help but be jealous.

“Stop gaping at me, it’s so disturbing!” and she gave me a look of disgust.

“S…..Sorry,” the blush was impossible to hide. God! How desperate was I becoming? Checking out girls!

“You know I am not your type,” sitting down gracefully, Rose grabbed a carton of orange juice from the counter.

“My type?” what was she referring to?

“You know….,” she shrugged her shoulders, even that was laced with grace, “I am not lesbo.”

“What!” I choked on my sandwich, “I am not lesbian!” Do I look lesbian? Did my behavior suggest any such thing?

A roar of laughter filled the entire kitchen making me turn in my seat to find Brandon and Keith in the doorway, laughing their heads off.

I felt my cheeks getting warm.

“Cut it off you guys!” Lita came to my rescue but I could hear humor in her voice as well.

“Really India, you’ve got two very handsome guys living in the house and you still opt to ogle a chick?” Keith taunted, “Who would’ve ever thought?”

“Hey man!” Brandon said, swinging his arm over Keith’s shoulder, “I thought that kinda thing wasn’t legal in India.”

And I found myself standing alone in a country full of strangers, in a house full of strangers, in a room full of strangers. I hated it and more so I hated feeling that way. Almost at the verge of crying I got up from the sofa, grabbed my things and marched out of the house. Thankfully my tears came after I was out.

The entire day I couldn’t help but think how badly people in that house treated me. They made fun of me and nobody stood by my side, it certainly did make me feel alone. Back home I had people who were always there to help me. Maybe I didn’t fit here, with these good looking people who had such high standards of living that I often felt like dirt.

A picture of my home flashed before my eyes, I knew my family had to struggle a lot to arrange the money for me to come here. We were middle class people, there were so many things I dreamt of having but could never afford. We still didn’t have a car and in this place even college going students drove fancy cars. Seeing them lined in the parking of my college, I felt really uneasy. There were more than a couple of things that screamed I didn’t belong, that I should just pack my bags and go home.

It seem to be the best option right now.

Felling dejected and low I made my way back to the apartment. The sun was already way down the horizon and even before I turned the corner, I could hear loud booming music from inside.

‘Not good!’ my mind screamed, I was not in the mood for a party.

I felt my mood get even sore. Somebody better not poke me right now or they were going to get some choice words from me.

Pushing the oak door open, I found my usually desolated and quiet apartment was riling with people, blonde, brunette, black, hell even pink heads popped up and down to the beat of some Metallica song.

The drawing room has been turned into a live pub or disco of some sort, or whatever the hell those things are called. Blinding colorful lights turned on and off, the entire floor was covered with wasted food, wrappings, somebody’s sandals!

I felt a terrible headache coming. Not in the mood to join the ‘social gathering’ I made my way through the sea of bodies, trying hard to find where my bedroom was.

After much pulling and pushing, toe stepping and jabbing, I finally reached my room. Leaning against the door I took a deep breath and throwing one last look to the hoard of strangers, I turned the door knob and giving the door a slight push went in. There, on Lita’s bed I saw two people doing things I was sure were done in adult movies.

“AARGH!” letting out a frustrated sigh, I marched back to the drawing room.

I felt like crying right now, people were laughing, drinking, dancing all around me and I felt like I was just like one of those wrappers lying on the floor. Nobody seem to notice that I was even there.

My eyes stung, tears already brimming my eyes. This was supposed to be my home, somewhere I could come and lie down in peace after all the things I faced during the day. But this place, this place full of people felt nothing like home. I wanted to go home.

I needed to go home right now!

I knew my tears were on the brink of leaking but I didn’t want to cry here, in front of all these people, all these happy, dancing people, so I got up and walked to the double doors and then into the lawn.

The cool night air felt so good compared to noisy sweaty environment inside.

Once I was safely seated on the grass, which felt so nice and welcoming, did I allow my tears to flow. I always cried with tiny noises, sobs but today I was quiet, because I knew nobody would care, even if I was crying. My mother was not here to say kind words to me, my father wasn’t here to smile at me and say things will get better. Nobody was here.

Feeling tired and drowsy, I lied down on the grass. It was moist and poked a little yet somehow felt comfortable.

“You know,” a voice said and I looked up to find Keith standing there, “those tears will hinder your vision. The stars are beautiful tonight.” He was watching the stars and he looked so beautiful, just standing there with a faraway look on his face, he seem like an angel.

“I don’t want to see the stars,” I said stubbornly, turning on my side.

After a few minutes I felt the grass rustle and the next moment he was sitting beside my head.

“They’re same,” he whispered, looking at me. I gave him a questioning look.

“The stars,” he clarified, “they’re same, here and in India.”

For a guy who was laughing his head off in the morning at me, he seem quite nice, sitting out in the cold, in the middle of the night, trying to console a crying girl.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be enjoying the party?” I snapped at him.

“Whoa! I am trying to help you here. You really don’t have any manners India,” he gave me a sly smile.

I have manners!” I defended, “but when I have been laughed at, made fun of, spent my entire day sulking and missing my family, have been dead tired wanting nothing more than to lie down and some peace I tend to forget my manners!” feeling my tears coming back, I continued, “Is it too much to ask? It’s supposed to be my home for God’s sake!”

I didn’t want to cry, not when he just witnessed me cry, I wasn’t a crybaby!

“No it’s not too much to ask,” he said softly, “but at times you just have to compromise. This is your home, you say and you are right but so is it theirs. You can’t stop them from partying, it’s their way of life but you can ask them to quiet it down a bit or something.”

I just closed my eyes, making the tears spill around the edge of my eyes. The grass ruffled again, “Come,” he said and I opened my eyes to see him standing with his hand outstretched towards me.

“Where?” I questioned.

“I know a place where you can lie down.”

“Really?” I was a bit surprised, in a happy way, mind you.

“Yes,” his hand was still extended for me to take, I looked at it for a moment, then placed mine in his. His touch was still same, warm, sure and soft.

With his help I got off the cold grass and he led me towards the boys part of the apartment, “Where are we going?” I asked again, a little paranoid this time.

“Told you, someplace you can sleep,” he replies coolly.

“And there won’t be an adult movie going on in there?”

“Adult movie?” he burst out laughing at my horrid expression. “No, I promise,” he opened the door to a room and gently led me in, “my room is germ free.”

“This….,”I swallowed a little, “is your room?”

“Yes,” he plopped down on one of the beds.

The room was spacious, just like mine but it was furnished with modern furniture. The bed towards the large glass windows on the left was low, square and fluffy looking. The one he was occupying right now was more like a dewan. The walls were royal blue with streaks of gold and black. In all it was clear that the occupant of the room had a classy taste.

“Come-on now. Do you intend to stand at the door the entire night?”

“But…,” I started to object, I had never slept in a guy’s room, on his bed ever before. It felt downright uncomfortable.

“Don’t think too much. This is my room, no one will dare enter it, you can take that bed, I’ll take this,” taking off his slippers he made himself comfortable.

I weighed the pros and cons of the situation and decided that I didn’t care even if somebody walked right in or in the middle of the night. I needed some sleep.

Kicking off my bellies I got into bed and closed my eyes only to realize that the pillow smelled heavenly, even the covers, the whole bed had this musky, soft yet masculine smell.

My eyes flew open, of course it smelled this nice. The bed was his for crying out loud!

My mind screamed for me to get my butt up and go back outside but my body was drawn to this bed, to his smell and I was so tired.

“Everything alright there?” he asked.

Was he watching me the entire time? “Yeah!” closing my eyes again I turned on my side, away from him.

Sleep was all ready to claim me when a delicious smell reached my nostrils and my stomach started doing flips. I was hungry, I haven’t had anything after breakfast.

“I know you are hungry India,” he stated simply.

“I am,” there was no hiding it, my stomach would give me away anyways. So getting up from his awesome bed, I moved to stand beside the one he was occupying, unsure of what to do next.

“Sit down,” he commanded, there was such authority in his voice that I followed at once. Was he used to this? Commanding?

“Eat,” he pushed a plate towards me, it had something creamy yellow and a garnish of green and red, it looked like macaroni.

“What is it?” I poked it with the fork, it seem jelly like.

“Mac and cheese,” he answered giving me a stern look.

“Huh?” I’ve heard the name before but I didn’t want to eat it. I would’ve preferred rice and pulse over this any given day.

“What huh? I only know how to make this and omelet.”

“Sorry,” I felt bad for behaving like that. He went out of his way to cook for me, the least I could do was try to swallow it down in one gulp.

I took a small piece and put it in my mouth, it didn’t taste bad at all, just unusual, foreign.

“You won’t share it?” he asked.

My cheeks flushed red. What was it about him making me blush half the time, “You haven’t eaten?”

“Of course not.”

“Oh!” realization hit me then. He hadn’t cooked for me, he did it or himself. He was just being nice and willing to share his food with me. God I was an i***t!

“Sorry,” the cheese turned rock hard in my mouth.

“I didn’t ask you to stop chewing India,” he smiled at me in a mocking way. I felt like jabbing the fork right in his side.

“Won’t you eat?” I offered him the fork since it was the only one at hand.

“Of course but…,” he looked at the fork skeptically, “didn’t you just eat with it?”

“Huh?” he was mocking me! That bastard!

“Fine, I’ll go get you another one!” snapping I got off the bed.

“Be quick,” he said waving at me. My hand twitched and I had to restrain myself from punching that smirk right off his face.

Going out of the room was a task in itself and making my way through the drunk, sweaty and swaying bodies was even more difficult of a task. Finally after being tossed around, I was in the kitchen trying to find forks. Luckily who ever threw the party hadn’t moved anything in the kitchen. I grabbed a fork, another plate and ran back to the room.

He was sitting smugly on the bed, a smile plastered on that pretty face of his, “took you long enough,” his smart ass comment only worsened my already foul mood.

“Oh am really sorry to make your highness wait but I was lost in the dancing souls outside,” sitting down I handed him the fork and started dividing the dish in two.

“What are you doing?” he asked playing with the fork.

“Dividing it. I brought you another plate,” I showed him the plate.

“So? You’ve already eaten from it, haven’t you?” he stated.

“Y….yes,” once again I found myself at the receiving end of embarrassment.

“So no need to waste another plate, we eat from this only,” he pointed to the dish.

What was wrong with this guy? Why on earth did he sent me to get another fork then? I thought of leaving the food and going back to bed but my empty stomach felt as if I drank acid.

“Fine,” I finally gave up. This room was his, the bed was his, he was the one who cooked, the dude can kick me out anytime and I didn’t want to spend the night out on wet grass.

“Let’s eat!” he said cheerfully, we ate in silence and then went to bed.

That night Mac and Cheese was added to my dreams.