Abhay

Life was simpler before I knew the exact shade of brown in Riya Sharma's eyes and the scent of her chocolaty perfume.

I didn't raise my head when she picked her flower and went to sit beside Sameer, of all people. My eyes took in the clay hand I was making, and I resisted the urge to crush it down, turning it back into a lump of clay.

Deep breath.

What the fuck was I doing? She was the little sister of my damn friend.

Flashes from the party came back to my mind, and I picked up the clay and got up. I was done with this pretended truce we held in this shop. It was my sacred place. I should have come closer to her the first day she came here. Sitting here in the pottery shop, she looked like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time. How could a man resist that?

I walked towards my room at the back. I needed to get away from here. From her.

Dhruv's little sister. Damn it! Dhruv, who held me when I was falling apart. Dhruv, who stood by me like a brother.

Dhruv's little sister.

Dhruv's little sister.

Dhruv's little sister.

Dhruv's little sister.

Dhruv's little sister.

I chanted like a fucking lunatic she called me that day.

I was going to kiss her that day. God! I was going to when she looked at me with her doe eyes and pouty lips, ready to bite back. I would've if Dhruv hadn't called me at the right time. Fucker had a sixth sense or something.

I closed the door with my left hand, holding the clay hand in the right and my breathing on a rampage. My jaws clenched at the flower bud, and I wanted to get away from it. I walked to the wooden rack filled with vases and statues in different stages. I wondered what she would have thought. No, I did not need to know what she would think. I did not want to.

I shoved the clay hand recklessly at the corner and turned my back to it. I was heaving as if I ran a fucking marathon.

I hoped I put too much strength and the clay hand broke. Turning my head, my eyes took in the bent flower bud, and a sharp pang hit my chest.

I resisted the urge to take it and fix it. As the second hand of the wall clock hung on my right on the cream walls ticked the third time, I picked the clay up and kept it down on the table in the corner.

When did it start? Where the fuck it went wrong? When did I start letting her in my mind? When did she start getting under my skin?

"Leave. Or... I'll call campus security,"

That day.

The day I saw the tenacity of the little Miss Savior.

Her kindness extended even to the people she disliked. She jumped into the things that she had no reason to be, just because they were family. Listened to cheesy romantic songs while working and looked at those annoying yellow lights in her cafe as if they were the world's most precious things.

My hands picked up the tool kept on the table, and I started straightening the flower.

"I don't know everyone."

I knew she would've done that for anyone she knew, and I'd be damned if that didn't feel good to be included in the list of those few random strangers.

"Riya Sharma, making a blooming clay flower, waiting to grow out of her shell because her life revolves around other people, and she can not make friends to save her life. Can not speak up to save her life and chains herself into some twisted savior complex to feel better."

My words echoed in my mind, and her stricken face came back to me in flashes. It was needed. I couldn't let her know more than she already did.

She was infatuated, and I'd be lying if I said that didn't feel good. It did. It fucking did. To have a person care for you enough to smile at you even after you slice them down with carefully chosen words.

But she needed to stay away.

I needed to stay away.

I looked at the clay hand holding the flower, and for a while, I was envious of a fucking clay hand holding that flower.

I couldn't hold mine, at least someone was.

⚽︎ ⚽︎ ⚽︎ ⚽︎

The sound of my teammates' chatter was becoming too much. I couldn't even shout at them to shut up. Team spirit and shit. But they were not loud enough to drown my thoughts about the clay and the rose.

We were going to Xavier's on our bus, and everyone was too hyped up for that. After our last loss, everyone was ready to show off the result of their practice.

I put on my headphones and turned the volume up to drown their voices. My mind shifted to Meera's words.

"You need to stop wasting your life. It's time you get serious and take some responsibility. Do not sully the name your father tried so hard to build up. Your stupid actions are gonna cost us the whole company."

What could've I said after that? I had cut the call mid-rant. I know she was not going to like that. But I couldn't care less at the time.

I knew I was fucking it up, but the truth was no matter what I did, the result was going to be the same. Everyone was ready with their guns to shoot us down, and there was no way out. Unless I decided to step forward. But right now, I wanted everything to go up in flames.

The bus halted in front of the Xavier's, and I tried locking the memories inside a box.

"You're gonna tear your fucking eardrums off." Dhruv snatched the earphones off.

He was sitting beside me, wearing our team's black jersey. The only reason I didn't curse him out was because the guilt was creeping up on me.

"Better than listening to you talk about random shit. Your voice is a fucking nail on the chalkboard." I replied and gestured for him to get up.

The coach stood in the middle of the bus, clearing his throat to get our attention. The chatter of the bus died, and all got ready to hear his mandatory talk before our matches. Not gonna lie, most of the time it made me want to shoot myself, but the man fired up the team like no one's business. I respected him for that.

"This is our moment. We've trained hard, we've strategized, and now it's time to show them what we've got. Stick to the plan. Defend as a unit, communicate constantly, and don't give them space to breathe. Trust your training. We have defeated them before, and we will do it again. Now, let's go remind them who we are."

The team erupted in a low, collective roar as they got to their feet, clapping each other on the back. They gathered their stuff and started getting off the bus.

Their resolve and energy slowly spread to me, and I got up from my seat, ready to focus on the game.

Football was my arena, and no one was going to take this away from me.

Out on the ground, our team started stretching. The stands were filling up, the murmur of the crowd growing louder by the second. I ignored it all, concentrating on the feel of the ball as I warmed up.

"Ready?" Dhruv jogged over, spinning a ball on his finger.

I nodded, catching the ball mid-spin and tossing it aside.

The opposing team filed onto the field, their captain scanning us with a sharp gaze. Beside him stood that grey-eyed geezer. I met his eyes and held the stare for a beat too long, just to unsettle him. Fucker did not look away. It was his home ground, so he could feel all the confidence he wanted.

I glanced toward the bleachers out of habit and paused. Riya was there, sitting in the second row, surrounded by her friends. Instead of her usual bright kurtas and jhumkas, she wore a jersey.

Interesting.

She was wearing Xavier's jersey. The number was on the chest, just below the Xavier's logo. Number 9. My eyes took in the grey bastard's jersey number as he stretched with his team.

Tch! Now, I was in the mood for some chaos.

"Abhay!" Dhruv called, snapping me out of it. "Game plan?"

"We are going to destroy their team to dust." 

The referee's whistle cut through the air, and the familiar rush ignited inside. From the goalpost, I flexed my gloved hands, eyes across the field as the game began. Their team stormed forward, aggressive and confident. They always opened fast, trying to overwhelm the other team. It worked for them nine times out of ten.

Today was going to be the tenth.

The grey-eyed bastard was good, but he was also predictable under pressure.

And their midfield?

"Shut down their playmaker, and the rest of the team falls apart."

Dhruv had raised a brow at my predictions back on the bus. "What if Arjun doesn't crack?"

"He will," I'd said, the corner of my mouth tugging upward. "But if he doesn't, he'll be too busy trying to prove he can't."

I would've been easier on him. Let him lose with a better score–my eyes went back to Riya wearing that red fucking jersey–but today, I was not feeling forgiving.

From the moment the whistle blew, we set the tempo. Dhruv and the defense shifted exactly as planned, forcing their midfield to the sidelines, cutting off their playmaker's options. Their frustration was the first taste of joy.

Then came the grey-eyed bastard. Fast, confident, charging straight at me like a battering ram. I stayed rooted in place, letting him close the gap. At the last second, I moved just enough to bait him into a right-side shot.

He bit.

Diving left, I stretched, my gloves meeting the ball in midair. Clean save.

I straightened, smirking as I tossed the ball back into play. His jaw clenched, the cracks in his composure beginning to show. It was so easy to rattle people. Part of the reason why I love football.

"Close him down!" I barked. Dhruv and Shrey swarmed their playmaker, pinning him to the sideline. His head jerked left and right, looking for an out.

Too late. Shrey caught a panicked pass, taking it forward in one smooth motion. Dhruv sprinted ahead, their defense too slow to recover. One strike. One goal.

We were up 1-0, and they were already on edge. I looked at the bleachers to find Riya's brows furrowed in worry.

I was going to kill someone.

The grey-eyed creature yelled orders. He was cracking under pressure. He was trying not to show it. But the little twitch of his fingers and clenched jaw gave it away.

He was fuming now, glaring at me every chance he got. I didn't bother hiding my amusement. It was so funny that the most disciplined people were the easiest to rattle. One needed to figure out their ticks, and Boom.

When he charged again, I let him think he had me.

He didn't.

No one had in a long time, to be honest.

Dhruv swept in from behind, cleanly stealing the ball. The creature stumbled, shouting for a foul that never came. Poor kid.

The giddiness spread through me. I wanted to toy with him more. Make him devoid of hope and crush his spirit.

As I retrieved the ball, I couldn't resist. "Getting a little desperate, aren't we?" I said loud enough for him and his team to hear.

His fists clenched. Perfect. This was art at its peak. Watching the other team fall apart bit by bit.

By the second half, we were in full control. The score was 3-0, and they were unraveling. It was like a beautiful masterpiece that I had created. Every misstep, every miscalculation, was magnified under the weight of their frustration.

When their captain pushed his entire team forward in a desperate bid to score, I shouted, "Counter!"

The long ball soared over their empty midfield, landing perfectly at Dhruv's feet. He sprinted unchallenged, slotting it past their keeper with ease. 4-0.

Arjun stood frozen in disbelief while their playmaker collapsed onto the grass.

As the final whistle blew, I leaned against the goalpost, letting the cheers of the crowd wash over me. The other team trudged off the field, defeated and humiliated.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her, Riya. She was sitting on the bleachers, arms crossed, while her two friends chatted animatedly, trying to get her attention. Her eyes narrowed in a mix of awe and something else. Suspicion, maybe? Amusement?

Was she able to see me? See me looking at her?

I couldn't tell, but I wanted her to. A crushing feeling spread through my chest when I saw her getting up and going towards the other team.

Dhruv came running and tackled me to the ground. My team gathered around me, their eyes holding the rush of adrenaline.

"What the fuck was that. You've been playing like you've got something to prove." Dhruv asked, ruffling my hair.

Because I did.

"I don't even remember when was the last time you took the game this seriously." He laughed, and I tried not to think about the reason.

Forcing a grin, I tried letting the victory settle in my bones. This was supposed to feel good, winning, dominating, proving we were the better team. And it did, for a moment.

But my eyes kept straying to the edge of the field, where Riya stood talking to the grey-eyed bastard. Her Xavier jersey clung to her, daring me to look away. Her head tilted slightly as she smiled softly. It was completely infuriating.

Dhruv punched my shoulder, grinning like an idiot. "Man of the match. Drinks on you tonight. No wait, Angie is having a party tonight..."

His voice blurred in the background. My chest felt tight, a hollow ache spreading where the winning rush should've been.

"Hey, you good?" Dhruv asked, his brows furrowing.

"Yeah," I lied, looking behind Dhruv's back to see her just as she reached out to pat the bastard's shoulder. My jaw clenched.

The ache turned sharper.

As the team headed to the locker room, I stayed behind, staring at the emptying stands. I had won and crushed their team into the ground. But watching Riya walk away, her back to me, I didn't feel like a winner.

And that pissed me off. It was a deep, simmering anger directed at me.

What the hell was I even thinking?

I needed to get her out of my head, out of my life, out of everything.

I needed to find someone else. Anyone else.

----

What kind of songs do you think Abhay would listen to?