Page 12 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

Amar jumped up. “I’m leaving. Let me know what happens,” he said and walked into the building, his curls catching up with the rhythm of his footsteps.

I let out a theatrical sigh and turned to Sameer. “See, now you’ve upset Amar,” I said, attempting to mimic his antics.

“Cut it out,” he replied pointedly, then sat down beside me while the rest of my friends took the chance to disperse quickly and quietly.

As a group of students walked toward the building, Sameer scooted closer to give them way. When his arms and thighs slid against mine, his pleasant rich-guy scent crossed over, taking me up brazenly and without warning. At the next inhale, I became conscious of my body. My nipples puckered stiff, and my thighs clenched tight to stop the tingling feeling between them. But as my eyes drew to my feet, I saw my brown skin against his glowing light color, my pedestrian clothing, discordant against his expensive faded jeans and name-brand sneakers. My untamed toes retracted into my slingback sandals, bought not at a high-end store or even at a mall but at the bustling city market of Mangal Bazar.

I should’ve walked away that second, but my body had other ideas. I was enjoying the touch of his skin, basking in the titillating sensation of his thigh against mine. When I finally found the conviction to move, he held my hand and stood up with me. A shiver ran through my body as I ended up looking into his face, gazing into his eyes. I quickly sat back down. He followed suit, this time keeping a few inches between us.

“You don’t know how difficult this is for me,” he began. “But… I’m sorry.”

I frowned. “Have you never apologized to anyone before?”

“Never sincerely.” He looked at me, and I hastily took my eyes off his glamorous face.

“We didn’t mean to exclude you. It’s alright to have your exciting life, but you can conduct your extracurriculars when you’re not with us, yes? We can’t spend any quality time as a group because your giggly friends are everywhere, hanging on your every word and falling all over you.” I rolled my eyes.

“Umm, okay?”

“And you hog all the attention in the group. You hijack every conversation. Can you at least try and listen to what the others have to say?”

He gawked at me, his magnificent eyes wide with disbelief.

“What?” I asked at his expression of incredulity.

“No one has ever spoken to me this way.”

“Like what, tell you the truth?” I countered with a defiant frown.

“Something like that. No one has ever called me out on trying to hog all the attention.”

“Do you?”

“Well, of course I do!” he replied. “That’s who I am. That’s how I’ve always been.”

I shrugged. “Friendships are a give and take, no? How can you get attention—willing attention—if you don’t give anyone yours? Why would we be interested in your stories if you have no patience for ours?”

“Are you saying you don’t enjoy my tales of valor?” He let his skin sink into mine with a flirty nudge.

“You’re deflecting, Rehani.” I slipped into Hindi, looking straight into his eyes, and he turned serious. He lifted his shoulders and straightened his back. “I know how you feel about Amar. I can see you’re fond of him, you respect him. But I also see the jealousy in your eyes. In your behavior. Whenever Amar is in the spotlight, at the center of any conversation, you redirect it to yourself. You don’t need to do that.”

He swiftly shifted away, and I felt the heat explode from his body. “Who do you think you are to speak to me this way?”

I could have detonated, blasting him with words he’d never forget. But this was bigger than my ego. This was about the well-being of my friend, and the things I knew about him that Sameer didn’t. Things that could leave emotional scars.

“Amar is my friend. You can walk away if you want. But I’ll say what I need to.”

He didn’t walk away. Although his body stiffened beside mine, he chose to stay.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that everyone wants to be your friend, yet you hang out with possibly the lowest-status group on campus, just because Amar is with us? Sometimes you hurt him and don’t even realize it. You’re a smart guy. You don’t need to be envious of him. You don’t have to feel like you’re living under his shadow and try to outdo him. You can be your own man.”

That struck a raw nerve, because he jumped up and growled at me like a wounded tiger. “You might think you’re the smartest person around, but you aren’t. Stay out of my life and my relationships. Don’t mess with things you can’t handle, girl,” he hissed at me through clenched teeth and stormed off.

That was alright. I was a big girl, and unfortunately such infantilizing language wasn’t the worst thing I had heard.

But he returned in a few seconds, raked a hand through his hair, and plopped down beside me. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

I kept my gaze off him because I wasn’t sure what I would read in those eyes.

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