A little less conversation

A Young Adult Romance

On Valentine’s Day, I couldn’t help but post a light young adult romance. I wrote this almost a year ago and never thought it was worth sharing. But I’ve come a long way since, and sometimes, a lighthearted romance is what we all need. I hope you enjoy reading it. There is some truth in this and a bit of fiction.

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Photo by Caio : www.pexels.com

A little less conversation

The party was on its last leg. People were beginning to gather their bags and phones to head out and look for an auto to take them home. I sat on the kitchen table, dangling my bare feet and sipping my last glass of rum and coke.

“It’s still Saturday night,” sighed Tara, plonking herself next to me. I smiled at her, knowing where this conversation was headed. “It’s almost midnight, so technically….”

“Stop it, Laila!” she cut me off before I could make my case. “It’s Saturday, and it’s nighttime. Fuck the clock.” After a pause, she smiled and looked at me, “I have my car tonight.”

“And you’ve been drinking,” I laughed, ruffling her wild and unruly mop of hair. “When has that ever stopped us?” She was grinning, and I knew I had lost. I could never say no to Tara. Her arguments didn’t make sense, yet she somehow never lost one.

“Not too many people, please,” I begged.

I really didn’t want to be stuffed with a bunch of drunks in the car.

“Just you, me, Abhi, Agastya and Naina. Sounds good?”

“Yep!” I felt a deep blush creeping up my cheeks and refused to meet Tara’s eyes. She knew, and she was playing with me.

We cleaned up the house, throwing away the paper cups and plates and lining up the half-empty bottles of alcohol on the kitchen counter.

“Your cook is going to think you’re an alcoholic.” I looked up to see Abhi grinning at me.

“That has already been established, thanks to you.” I rolled my eyes at him, walked out of the kitchen and ran smack into a hard, muscular chest.

“Uuff!” A most unladylike grunt came out as I looked up into the soft brown eyes of Agastya.

“Laila, are you okay?” he asked in his deep, husky voice. “Yup, yup!” I quipped like a Pomeranian and walked off before I could embarrass myself further. “I’m so sorry. I should have looked,” he called after me. I turned around to tell him it was okay but stopped short. He was such a beautiful man – tall, tanned, rugged in a not-so-muscular way, with a smile that could melt any heart. I must have sighed loudly because I saw him grin. He knew I was checking him out and was enjoying it thoroughly. “Get your bag, Laila. I think Tara is halfway to her car already.” I mumbled something and fled to my room, cussing under my breath.

When it came to Agastya, logic, reason, and comprehension flew out of the window. I was always tongue-tied, and when I could respond, it came out in a series of sounds - like a barking dog or a gaping goldfish. He enjoyed it, though – the teasing and flirty comments. But it stopped there. He had never ventured beyond the occasional quip, and I didn’t think a man like him would be interested in someone like me. He humoured me, and that was all.

Tonight, the energy seemed different. He had spent the better half of the night sitting next to me or asking if I wanted my drink refilled. We had bumped shoulders more than I could count, his hand placed at the small of my back as he guided me through the crowded house. He didn’t need to. Enough women were swooning over him, as usual. But his eyes seemed fixed on me, his expression unreadable.

He waited until I checked the gas and locked the house before we headed to the car together.

It was a beautiful night. Winter was on its way out, and summer had yet to rare its ugly face. We were in the precious few weeks called spring. Tara’s car was a little red Alto she called Rani (queen). If there was ever a friendship that went beyond words, it was of Tara and her car. She practically lived in it.

We all piled in, with Tara expertly navigating the seating arrangements.

“Abhi, sit in the front with me. I need a good navigator. Laila, Naina, Agastya, get in the back.”

We all did as we were told. When Tara spoke in her commanding voice, no one argued with her.

“I’ll sit in the middle. You and Naina both like the window seats.” Agastya was always like this – making sure everyone else was comfortable. “Besides, it's more comfortable for me in the middle, and I don’t trust Abhi’s navigation skills,” he responded before I could say anything.

“Where are we going guys?” Tara asked, starting the car.

“You tell me. The plan is yours,” I responded, shutting the door and settling in.

Naina tucked herself into the corner, her head resting on the closed window. She was not in the mood to socialise today, so we let her be.

“Ice cream at India Gate?” It was a question, but we all knew the decision was made. We usually let Tara take the lead on plans. Besides, no one cared where we were going.

A few minutes in, Abhi began his usual tirade.

“Did you guys know that I have to log in every cigarette break at work, and I’m not allowed more than three?”

“Oh my god, Abhi! Such injustice!” Tara exclaimed dramatically, with a hand on her heart. He ignored her. “They have biometrics and shit. I don’t think they know how creative people work. The environment is so messed up.”

I nodded absentmindedly as he droned on about his work issues. This wasn’t the first time we had heard his rant. It wouldn’t be the last time, either. I rolled down the window and looked outside to avoid rolling my eyes at him again.

“Why don’t you quit?” Tara asked, raising her eyebrows. She looked as fed up as I felt.

“Quit and go where exactly? It’s not easy to get a job,” Abhi retorted, looking miffed. “Then suck it up, and stop whining like a kid. No one has the perfect job. You make do with what you have.”

That seemed to silence him. I felt a collective sigh of relief in the car. We were silent for a while, enjoying the calm and quiet of the city at night. There was something magical about it. No honking, no fights, no traffic jams.

Agastya leaned forward, giving Tara directions. This was the pre-WhatsApp and Google Maps era when you had to rely on your eyes and a general sense of the roads to get anywhere. Worst case, you could stop and ask for directions.

“Take a left here. The road is better.” Agastya's shoulder came next to my face.

“There is usually a lot of traffic on this road. I know a shortcut.” His hand overlapped with mine.

“There won't be any traffic this late at night, Tara. Trust me.” His fingers entwined with mine.

“Oh, right! I forgot.” Tara giggled. Agastya squeezed my hand gently.

“Can I play some music?” Abhi asked.

“See what’s playing on the radio. My system doesn’t work.” Tara shrugged. “Sorry guys, old car and all, but she’s all I’ve got.”

A Little Less Conversation by Elvis Presley started playing. Abhi increased the volume, and we all hummed along. It was my favourite car song.

A little less conversation, a little more action, please

Little electric bolts travelled up my spine. I had goosebumps.

All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me

I leaned my head on his shoulder. He adjusted to make me comfortable, moving just a little closer.

A little more bite and a little less bark

No one knew we were holding hands.

A little less fight and a little more spark

His palms were big and soft. His thumb stroked my hand in gentle circles.

Close your mouth and open up your heart, and, baby, satisfy me

I turned to look at him. He smiled.

Satisfy me, baby

“Laila… do you specifically want that Kwality Walls Cornetto, or are you flexible?”

I caught a whiff of Agastya’s cologne.

“Laila?”

The car stopped. Tara cut the engine and got out, followed by Abhi.

“Lailaaaaa…!” Tara peeped in, looking at me, waiting for an answer.

I reluctantly let go of Agastya's hand.

I felt my heart racing, thump thump thump, a rhythmic beat that drowned out everything else.

“Laila?” Tara jostled me gently. “Are you okay? Too drunk? Need to puke?”

Agastya leaned in and whispered, “Tara is asking you...” I looked at him as if in a trance. " Do you specifically want that Kwality Walls Cornetto? Because if you do, we will stay in the car and will have to search for another ice cream guy.” He said it softly, his lips close to my ear, his breath warm.

I nodded. I didn’t want to get out of the car.

Agastya leaned over me. “She wants the Cornetto, Tara.”

I finally looked at Tara. She had a grin plastered across her face.

“You really want that Cornetto, huh, Laila?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I want Cornetto…. please?” It was not about the ice cream, and she understood.

“Get in the car, guys. Mission cornetto is ON.”

Abhi groaned. Tara cussed at him. Naina remained quiet as she had the entire car ride.

I felt a deep love for my friends.

The engine started up.

Elvis continued crooning in his deep, sexy voice.

Baby, close your eyes and listen to the music
Drifting through a summer breeze

Agastya found my hand again.

It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it
Come along with me and put your mind at ease

I felt him turn towards me

A little less conversation, a little more action, please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me

“Laila,” he whispered. “Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night?”

A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark

I nodded, unable to speak. I couldn’t believe this was happening!

Close your mouth and open up your heart, and, baby, satisfy me

“We found it!” Tara whopped, honking to make the pedestrians move.

We piled out of the car into the crisp spring night. Agastya continued to hold my hand. Everyone stared at us. I couldn’t get myself to look up; my ears burned, and my cheeks were probably the deepest shade of red.

“You asked her out then?” Tara asked.

“I did,” Agastya responded.

“About fucking time!” Tara hugged me, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Bhaiya, ek Cornetto, chocolate wala dena. What does everyone else want?”

(Sir, can you give me one chocolate Cornetto)

I looked up as my friends gathered around the ice cream cart.

“It’s about time?” I asked Agastya.

“A year in the making,” he responded, smiling at me.

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