"I have a problem, dear readers, and his name is Sandwich Dude. So, I love these customized sandwich stalls that the cafeteria added (God knows how much we needed olives with our bologna), however, Sandwich Dude just isn't flying with me. While he is composing the sandwich under my hawkish eye, he is doing it with gloved hands. Very sanitary. But then he hands over the beautiful sandwich to the Dude manning the grill, who incidentally doesn't believe in gloves. Or nail-cutters...WHY? I ASK YOU. WHY? *Flips table* Ugh. Don't even bother with the cling wrap at the end, I'll just eat it off the Cafe Floor...." Nitty Gritty (Issue No 902, April 2015)

Forty minutes later, most of my friends were lying comatose on, and off the trampoline, as I somersaulted over, and around them. Shay groaned when my shifting weight caused her to roll towards the other side of the safety-net. Asad was nursing a black eye he had received from Daniyal's flying foot, and Azaan and Faris were rubbing their skulls, which they had managed to bang together.

I love trampolines! It's like taking away all the friction and all the gravity that holds you back during a gymnastic routine...it's freedom. I always look up during a jump, the sky seems a little bit closer, every time I urge my legs to propel me higher. If it weren't for the idiots lying around me, groaning about "Ruptured Kidneys", and "Osteopo-KILLMENOW", I would have been in a spiritual dimension of bliss.

All too soon, reality intrudes. And He's wearing a name-tag.

"Your time is up guys! Move it!" The trampoline dude gestured at the waiting line of people.

"Aww! can't we go one more time?" I pleaded with Azaan."Pleeeaassee? I can teach you how to do a proper salto this time..."

He rubs at his temple, looking at me like I just confessed my undying love for Eggplants.

"Who are you? and what have you done to our Layla?" He croaked. "It's the Scientologists, isn't it? If they can brain-wash Tom Cruise..."

"NO you CANNOT go again! it's our turn!" A girl in the line yelled at me, from behind the safety-net.

"Buzzkills." I muttered before executing one last mid-air split. Someone wolf-whistled in the crowd, and I actually laughed it off, brazenly, high on adrenaline. Did I mention that I LOVE trampolines?

Getting off the giant trampoline was a problem for my midgetness. I almost had a full fledged panic attack when the Trampoline Dude tried to help me down, unasked. I elbowed the guy in the face as soon as his hand touched my arm. Azaan quickly covered up for me, by making up something about height phobias. He hovered behind me, making sure I could get down without anyone's help, while I just reddened, and mumbled awkward apologies.

"I'm sorry I almost blinded you, when you tried to help me." Doesn't go over well, no matter how you frame it.

Afterwards, I tried to calm my racing heart. Telling myself that it was the unexpectedness of it. I've been so much better ever since I started University. I've barely had any flashbacks or weird dreams. Being around people has got me accustomed to physical proximity...but then something as little as a helping hand triggers my old fears. I guess I will never ever completely erase the after-effects of my past.

How ever will you do the play?

I push the thought away. Smiling as wide as I can. Trying to maintain the high I'd gotten from the Trampoline.

I can do it. If I can act around them. I can act onstage too.

"What can we do next?" I asked, dragging Shay along with me. My thighs kind of hurt, but in a really good way.

"Hey. You forgot this." Faris jogs up to us, to tap Shay's shoulder with her green envelope-style clutch, that (if my suspicions are on point) she deliberately left behind.

To her credit, she did attempt at nonchalance.

"Oh wow! You just saved my life Faris. Thank You! I Love...This bag to pieces! you have no idea how important it is to me. Maybe a few months ago, this was just like any other bag to me, but now that I realize how beautiful it is from the inside, I just want to hug it forever and--"

Faris stared expressionlessly at her.

I internally face-palmed myself. Trying hard not cringe with acute second-hand embarrassment.

"--and mind you, when I first saw it, I dismissed it. I kept looking for something better, and flashier, but then I realized how well this goes with my hair. Green and Black is like my favorite combination! and my hair is something that should always go with my accessories. That's like THE most important rule in my style-book--"

"You realize that just Thank You would have done the trick?" Faris eventually muttered, thrusting the bag in her hand and plugging his ear-phones back in his ears. He walked off without another word.

I bit my lip with worry, at Shay's stunned face. She didn't say anything as I gingerly patted her back, trying to soften the blow.

"Shay I'm so so-"

"Oh My God."

"I know, sweetie, it's okay, he's just-"

"HE SPOKE A WHOLE SENTENCE TO ME LAYLA! AACK! This is AMAZEBALLS!" She whisper-shouted, her face splitting into a sunny smile. My mouth dropped open as she twirled a little bit, horribly off-beat to the hip-hop music blaring from the speakers around the grassy area.

Love is not only blind. It is bat-shit crazy.

..............

"Hayat! You won't believe this, but I won the Lemon-eating contest!" Azaan came up to me, carrying a smushed brown-paper napkin in his hands.

I was sitting down for a breather. I was exhausted after all the jumping and food sampling I had done around the Bake Sale-stalls. Azaan nudged me aside to make room for himself, settling his camera-bag between us. I waited for another panic attack to set in at his nearness, but it never came. My insides relaxed with happy relief.

"Why won't I believe it? you're the human equivalent of a vacuum cleaner!" I said dryly. "What was the prize, anyways?"

"A Lemon Tart!" He smirked, crumpling up the paper napkin in his hands, "It was huge. I'd show it to you but it's long gone...if you know what I mean."

"I always know what you mean. Ya Allah! I hope you have a sore throat now! Idiot!" I laughed, as he made funny faces, clutching his throat.

"Wanna hear a story?" He leaned back on the bench, crossing his arms behind his neck, and closing his eyes.

His dark eye-lashes were ridiculously thick; almost as abundant as my own. His angled jaw was lightly dusted with the usual dark stubble. He suddenly shifted his weight to the other arm, causing his Old Navy shirt to tighten around his lean muscled biceps, and I involuntarily swallowed, averting my eyes from the perfection of his face.

For the record; It sucks having a hot friend.

Especially if you look like me. Ordinary. Plain-faced. Mediocre. Me.

I'm assuming that when people (especially girls) see us hanging out, they either internally react like Tania (Like Ohmigaah HE chose HER!!??) or else, they correctly determine that he'd never be involved with someone like me.

Not that I give two hoots about what people think, but I do care about what I think.

And I think; it's unfair that I have to be friends with him, and pretend like I don't secretly have a tiny bit of a crush on him. Maybe it might have been okay if he were a random hot guy. Like Ryan Gosling. Where I can shamelessly gush over his hotness. But when the guy is your "Friend" and has called you "Like His Sister" more times than you care to remember...It just sucks. Okay?

"Sure. I'd love to hear a story."

"Once, Asadomer, Faris and I went to Pizza Hut and ordered like 18 large Pizzas. Then we started to leave without paying for it, and the manager panicked. Aw man! He went all "I know people in the Police" on us. So we offered to wash dishes for them in exchange. Which didn't go over all that well..."

I snickered, "I really don't wanna say True Story."

He grinned at me, finally opening his eyes. "False."

"Woohoo!" I fist-pumped.

"We didn't order 18 Pizzas. We ordered 16...."

"Oh my God! You people are AWFUL!" I gasped after getting over my laughter. "I'm glad I stayed back today for this. It's nice to hang out around Campus, and not study you know?" I mused over the darkening sky.

"I'm glad you came too." He murmured back. I beamed at his profile.

The music was eventually turned down as the call of prayer from the University Masjid (Mosque) surrounded us. I reached for my shawl, draping it around my head and torso, out of respect. I don't know why we desi women do that; cover up our heads whenever we hear the "Azaan" (prayer-call). I'm pretty sure it's not a "Real Thing" in our religion. Mama always does it whenever we're at home, and we hear the prayer-call. Naturally, Maria and I picked up on that. Now even Ruby covers up her head when she hears it!

"Oohh, I wanna share that! I don't have a scarf with me, today." Shay suddenly arrives, squeezing in from my other side, burrowing herself inside my shawl. We looked like a couple of hobos sharing shelter.

As soon as the prayer ended, we separated. My shawl fell back around my shoulders, and later on, the music re-started.

After we'd offered Maghrib (Dusk) prayers in the gender-segregated Masjid; we went back to partying together.

Funny thing, our society's fractured, flawed adoption of religion...

"I can't wait for the karaoke to start!" Shay rubbed her hands gleefully, leaning forward to whisper to me, "I have a plan..."

Never have four words struck more terror in my heart. I looked around at my friends. They were joking around, making fun of a stuffed Unicorn Asad had won in a game of darts. I turned her away from the others to whisper; "What are you--?"

I was cut-off in mid-sentence by a girl approaching me. She looked at a sheet of paper in her hand, and then again at my face.

"Hey! Uhh Layla, right? Do you mind coming with us? Someone nominated your name, and well, this is for charity..." I recognized the girl from one of the stalls set-up earlier. She was wearing a white Bake-Sale volunteer T-Shirt from the Community Club, and multiple red, felt hearts were pinned to her chest and arms.

The guys actually stopped the Unicorn ribbing to look over at me, curiously.

"Oh, yeah. Sure..." I nodded hesitatingly, following her back to a booth occupying the center-space of the football ground. My curiosity turned to horror pretty soon.

"Shaadi Booth" (Wedding Booth) was emblazoned on a sparkly, hand-made banner at the top of the stall. The main attraction was a Love-seat type Wedding Bench. There were some huge, tacky, heart posters fixed to the bench decorated with balloons, and streamers, and these funny wedding props, and signs were lying all around.

My friends started howling with laughter.

"What is going on?" I asked, alarmed, as another grim-faced volunteer girl approached me with a fancy looking red silk Dupatta clutched in her hands. It was sequined, and embroidered heavily with gold. Looking horribly like a traditional wedding dupatta for brides.

"You're getting married, love! Oh my Gosh. I wish your mother were here to see you today, all lovely in that red dupatta..." Shay wiped fake sentimental tears away from her eyes. Asad was clutching his stomach, his entire body vibrating with silent mirth. Even Faris was smirking instead of scowling. Daniyal was biting his lower lip, to halt the laughter, his eyes shining with mischief.

"This is the best day of my life!" Azaan gasped, tears running down his face.

"Alright. Who's the dulha (groom)?" The bored volunteer quickly slapped on a fake moulvi beard, and white turban. To play the role of Qazi (Wedding Officiator).

"I don't like this game!" I protested, as Shay draped the red dupatta over my head, forcefully shoving me onto the make-shift love seat. "WHO THE HELL NOMINATED ME?"

"That's confidential." the volunteer sniffed through her fake beard. "It's simple really. If you're nominated, you get married. We'll take a funny proppy photo and stuff, you pay us 500 bucks, and you're free to go. That's it. All in good fun. Now, just pick a groom, so we can get this over with."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" I shrieked, tugging the dupatta off my head.

By now, my friends had started singing all the oldest. cheesiest, desi wedding songs they had ever heard.

"Excuse me? We made 5000 in the past hour! That's double the amount those losers over at, Lemon Contests made during the whole day..." she retorted, blowing out beard hair away from her mouth.

"Hey! Let's not be disrespectful!...." Azaan protested.

Finally, someone's on my side!

"....Those lemon dudes are my football buddies."

I gritted my teeth, fumbling into my purse for money. But then I remembered all the cash I had splurged on all the Trampoline rounds. A couple of measly hundred Rupee notes stared at me from the depths of my wallet. "Do you guys take IOUs? Credit Cards? I'll pay double your amount. Just let me go!"

"We don't take IOUs. but I'll take the two hundred. Honestly, I've married people for much less in the morning, it's just Bake-Sale policy to double our rates after sun-down..." Fake Beard shrugged her shoulders.

"No way are we letting you leave without properly hitching you up!" Shay giggled. "This is the best fun I've had in ages! Dear Lord! Layla Hayat getting married...I want to kiss the person who nominated you..."

"Yeah, Hayat! WE are not letting you leave." Asad grinned evilly at me, gesturing around at the guys, "Choose an eligible bachelor already."

"Ya Allah! you all are EVIL!" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Every time I tried leaving, Shay would yank me back. Azaan even started a chant, "Shaadi. Shaadi. Shaadi."

"I don't have all day people. One of you propose to her already." the volunteer yelled over all the pestering of the group.

"Fine. I'll marry Shay, then." I laughed.

"Al-Haraam!" The fake Qazi squawked in rebuke. "This ain't America sweetheart."

I had a feeling she was having more fun here than all of us combined.

"I think we all know who the obvious choice is over here." Asad quipped, pointing at himself. "Pick me Layla. I have a sexy satchel..."

"You know what? Screw it. I'm marrying her." Azaan's sudden admission drew forth a volley of wolf-whistles and cat-calls. I looked up at him stunned, to find him grinning his dimpled grin, getting clapped on the back by everyone. Only Asad was putting up a token protest.

Shay was squealing with delight, "Eeeep! Layla and Azzy! Your ship-name could be LAYZY! ohmigod this is awesome!"

"I don't like this game!" I squeaked, when Azaan arrogantly popped the ring off his Coke Can.

The howls grew worse when he dropped down on one knee in front of my Love Seat. Random people had joined the crowd by now. My classmates, theater-mates etc. they were throwing encouragements, and "Aww this is so sweet" at us. My heart was pounding, a mile a minute! Which is ridiculous. This was just a joke!

"Layla, my love. With this cheap aluminium Coke ring, I propose to thee." He held out the misshaped silver ring in front of him.

Even on his knees in front of me, we were on eye-level. I was struggling to close my shocked-open mouth.

"Baby. Will you be my Jalebi? (Traditional sweet) Please don't say 'maybe'..." He sang, brandishing his ring.

"This is so going on my Instagram and Snapchat." Shay chortled, fumbling with her phone-camera.

"I knew there was something wrong in that free lemon tart you ate." I mumbled, my ears were getting hotter by the minute. I have no idea why this was effecting me so much.

"Aww come on! don't leave me hanging!" He grinned, tilting his head to the side, the dimples actually deepened, if it's possible.

"Yeah Layla don't leave him hanging! I only have nine-seconds of video-time left for the Snap..." Shay quipped.

"Make it snappy you two! I have to catch two sophomores and a senior after this." Grumpy Beard gestured at the folder in her hands.

"Also, my leg is kinda cramped..." Azaan winced, shifting his weight around. "Not all of us are gymnasts here."

When I stayed silent, his grin faltered, eyes registering hurt. "Don't you trust me?" He barely whispered.

It suddenly seemed much more than a game now.

I shook my head, trying to say without words; You're the only one I do trust.

But with all the people milling about, I was too self-conscious, trying to unsuccessfully bring down the temperature of ears and neck.

Oh what the heck...

I nodded as an idea struck me.

"You're right. Screw it. Let's get married. But I have one condition..."

................

"Red suits you! Wifey!" The tenth random guy heckled at my fake-spouse, as the Karaoke started.

"Thanks!" Azaan yelled back, shamelessly. I giggled, like I've been doing non-stop ever since our "Wedding".

As per my request, I had donned the traditional Turban that grooms wear, leaving the flashy, bedazzled, red-dupatta for Azzy The Awesome.

People loved it.

I loved it too.

To his credit, Azaan made the best blushing bride ever.

"I'm very much secure in my masculinity, my Love. I will gladly surrender the turban to you." He had smirked, grabbing the dupatta with a flourish.

As part of the "Official Paper-work", the Fake Qazi made us sign a petition sheet for a law against child marriages. I grudgingly came to appreciate the work these guys were doing for charity, and community work. It was actually fun-filled, yet poignant.

Afterwards, we fed each other cup-cakes as a post-nuptial ritual. Azaan more or less rubbed the chocolate icing over my nose, despite my protests. My turban kept falling off because of my uncontrolled laughter. The fake mustache Shay had stuck on me, was struggling to stay securely over my lips.

The best part was when I slid the Coke Can ring onto Azaan's ring finger, and it got stuck on the first knuckle. The finger eventually started turning blue, so he had to pry it off with his teeth.

The Shaadi Booth Volunteers even gave us Polaroids of the event. There's one of him kneeling down in front of me, and another one of us laughing as we stared at each other, my turban askew, while he poses coyly with the dupatta draped over his head.

Today was a happy, happy day.

"So. The plan is in motion." Shay whispered in my ear as we enjoyed a particularly soulful rendition of Rihanna's "Umbrella" by a senior student. The applause got deafening when she ended. Asadomer and Azaan wolf-whistled in appreciation.

"What plan?" I whispered back, as Tania Hussayn grabbed the Mic next, requesting the DJ for "La La Love Me Like You do".

"Brace yourselves. Ellie Goulding is about to be ruined for you. Forever." Azaan leaned forward to whisper to us.

Asad elbowed him aside, "No. Music is about to be ruined for you. Forever."

We all sat in stunned, auditory abuse for the next three minutes, twenty seconds.

"I take back all the times I called her a bitch. She is a national asset." Faris drawled after the musical purgatory was over. "I'm serious. Let's loan her to the army or something. They can leave tape-recordings of her singing in hidden locations of the Taliban terrorists. They will surrender before she reaches the chorus...By God. I have to fix this..."

We watched open mouthed as Faris confidently strode up to the center of the karaoke circle we were sprawled around. He snatched the mic out of Tania's hand, much to the hooted appreciation of the audience.

Half an hour later, people were still trying to get him to sing one last song. His deep baritone was pitch-perfect as he covered several Atif Aslam songs, before switching over to classical renditions of Kishore Kumar. My hands were numb from clapping so hard!

"I love him even more now." Shay wiped a tear away from her eyes as Faris sang a particularly sad ghazal. I have never felt music quite so deeply as I did now. I sniffed, tamping down the tears that tightened my throat. The words dripped with sorrow, falling effortlessly from his throat, drowning out the instrumentals completely.

"It's been a while since I heard him sing. I forgot how beautiful his voice is." Azaan murmured, quietly offering me a napkin to blow my nose into.

I nodded wordlessly, spell-bound by the magic of this night. The night was clear and starry. The light spring breeze occasionally swirled around us, ruffling hairs, rustling the surrounding grass. The beautiful music seemed overkill at this point.

We cheered when he finished the last note. He handed off the mic to another guy, before choosing to sit alone in a corner. It was then that I saw one of the Bake-Sale volunteers approach him with a red note.

Beside me, Shay stiffened.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, it's happening!! ACK! Layla! I can't look!" She whisper-shouted in my ears. Her hand found its way to mine, and she squeezed hard, making me wince.

"What did you do Shay?" I muttered under my breath.

"I sent him an anonymous confession through the Secret Confession booth!" She covered her face with her hands, moaning with rightly deserved embarrassment.

"YOU WHAT?" I exclaimed.

"What? I what?" Azaan turned to me, puzzled.

"Not you, Wifey." I scowled, pushing him away. He muttered something about domestic abuse...

Shay and I breathlessly watched as Faris frowned at the red note, before tearing it open. Shay squeaked. I bit my lip.

Faris' expression remained passive as he read the note, and pocketed it. Shay was now hiding behind me; her face buried against my shirt.

Then Faris turned to look towards us. His eyes met squarely with mine, flitting towards Shay's awkward figure.

He raised an eye-brow at me.

I shrugged back.

"Is he looking at us? Is it safe? Do you think he got my message?" Shay's muffled voice came from behind me.

"I think he got the message." I said grimly. But I have no idea what he'll do now...

A/N:

Hello there! I know not much is going on here, but I was having too much fun with the details, to move over too quickly over this chapter! Haha!

Anyways, do lemme know what you thought about it!

Don't forget to Vote and Comment! I love hearing back from you.

Thanks for reading. <3

-E.