~It's a date~

Sanjana Thapar

"Achoo! Achoo! ACHOO!"

I wiped my watering eyes, while glaring at the shelves of books in front of me. Thank God I had used waterproof makeup or else I would have looked like a racoon.

"Ugh!" I groaned, but continued to clean despite the assault of the ancient dust. Seriously, why was this place so ridiculously dusty? And why did the campus library need these many books? Rows and rows of books on topics that probably wouldn't pique any of the student's interest.

I knew, I know. These were "collectibles." Special. Precious. Blah blah blah. But when you were the one punished to meticulously remove each book, wipe down the shelves and put them back in the right order, you earned the right to complain.

"Achoo!"

"Achoo!"

This time it wasn't just me. I looked over to Tara, who was laughing as we sneezed simultaneously.

"This sucks!" I grumbled, arranging the books in order.

"I know. I hate it," she said, hopping off the stool she was standing on. She peeked around the shelves a few times before looking back at me. "The librarian is gone."

Grinning, I dropped the cloth and sat cross-legged on the floor. Tara grinned as she sat beside me, our shoulders almost touching.

We had become friends again. It was strange how easily it happened. I thought it would be awkward, that the years apart would have built an invisible wall between us. That we had changed too much to find common ground again, but somehow, we hadn't. The conversations still flowed, the laughter still felt familiar and before either of us knew it, we were friends again. We weren't the same people we used to be, but maybe that's the thing about real friendships– they don't exactly vanish, they just evolve with you.

We heard the library door creak open, and we immediately stood, hurriedly climbing our stools and returning to our tasks. But to our surprise and annoyance, it was just Saksham.

Saksham approached, fanning his posters with an exaggerated flourish. "Wow. Look at you two. Living the dream," he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.

I didn't even look up. "What was your punishment today?"

He grinned, leaning against the bookshelf. "Recycling awareness campaign posters. Technically, I'm supposed to design and distribute them across campus." A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.

"How many have you actually put up?" Tara asked, pausing midwipe.

"Enough to look responsible," Saksham answered.

"So... three?" I challenged.

"Four," he retorted, then quickly added, "Well...no, wait. It was three."

"Doing the absolute minimum while looking like you've exceeded expectations," I said, shaking my head. "Classic Saksham."

"I prefer to think of it as 'strategic efficiency'," he responded with a slight shrug. "Anyway, check this out." He spread out one of his posters. "I drew the most hilarious caricature of Kabir Sir and other teachers. You should see it."

"Not interested," I said, whipping the dusty cloth over Saksham's head. That's when I realized he wasn't asking me.

He held up the poster for Tara to see. "Look."

Tara glanced over, a hint of amusement crossing her face. "Those are actually pretty good."

The compliment visibly boosted his ego. "Obviously. Art is my hidden talent."

"Maybe you should keep it hidden," I muttered.

"I'll have you know," Saksham declared, striking a dramatic pose, "I'm a certified artistic genius."

"Certified by whom?" I challenged. "Your fling fan club?"

Tara's unexpected laugh cut through his performance. It was soft, genuine—catching both of us off guard.

Saksham seized the opportunity. "See? I'm hilarious. And artistic."

"And so humble," I added drily.

He dramatically placed a hand over his heart. "You hurted me, dear sister. So deeply. My next caricature is going to be you with an extra fat nose and big forehead."

The banter felt familiar and comfortable. My brother had always been dramatic, always performing—whether for girls, for attention, or just for the pure joy of being noticed.

He turned to Tara, holding up another poster. "What do you think of this one?" It seemed like it was one of their teachers.

Saksham shuffled his posters, positioning them to catch Tara's attention. "I spent hours getting the details just right," he said. I knew him well enough to know that he was subtly fishing for her interest.

"That's nice," Tara said absentmindedly, barely sparing Saksham a glance before returning to the stack of books she was dusting.

I winced. Ouch. He had practically gift-wrapped his sentence in charm and handed it to her, only for her to toss it aside like an expired coupon.

Saksham, however, remained undeterred. He leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, watching her with the kind of expression that made women swoon—just not this one, apparently.

I sighed and did what any good sister would do—I kicked him.

Not hard enough to cause lasting damage (unfortunately), but enough to make him jolt.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

Saksham blinked at me, all faux innocence. "What?" Then shrugged and sauntered off like he hadn't just been rejected in record time.

Tara, completely oblivious, stacked another book and let out a small sigh. "He still hasn't changed, has he?"

I bit my lip, debating whether to issue a warning. Caution: Saksham Thapar may appear charming but is, in fact, an incurable playboy who hated commitment. But she was smart. If she hadn't caught on yet, she would soon enough.

So instead, I just let out a dry laugh and said, "Nope. Still as insufferable as ever."

She smiled, completely unaware that she was probably the first woman in history to walk away unscathed from Saksham's dangerously flirtatious tendencies.

Honestly, I wasn't sure whether to be proud of my best friend or feel bad for my brother.

"Alright, this side is done," Tara announced with a loud sigh. "You done?"

"Almost," I mumbled, arranging the last set of books. "Done!"

As we made our way back to the dorms to grab our things for class, I found myself slowing down. Tabassum and Varun were laughing softly, their heads bent close together as they carried a couple of boxes. They hadn't noticed me or Tara yet, they were too wrapped up in their conversation, punctuated by Varun's quiet chuckles and Tabassum's bright giggles.

It had been two weeks since I'd convinced Varun to go to Kabir Sir for help. It only took Kabir Sir twelve hours to sort everything out, and since then, Varun had seemed... lighter. It wasn't a dramatic transformation—no overnight epiphanies—but there was a subtle shift. He didn't wear that constant frown anymore. He smiled more often, spoke up in conversations, and occasionally cracked a joke in his dry humor.

"Cute couple," Tara said casually beside me.

"What?" I nearly tripped over my own feet.

"Varun and Tabassum." She nodded toward them, and my fingers instinctively curled into fists inside my jacket pockets.

"They aren't dating," I blurted out, a bit too quickly. "They are just friends." At least that's what he keeps telling me.

Tara smirked. "Really? Well, maybe they should. They look good together."

I shot her with what I hoped was a look of indifference. Against my will, my eyes drifted back to where Varun and Tabassum were setting down boxes.

He leaned in close – close enough that I could see his signature half-smile, the one that usually made my day better. But right now? Not so much. He whispered something that made her double over laughing like he was suddenly the country's top comedian or something.

She smiles for the world, a thousand shades of joy combined.

Yet my favorite one; the smile I cherish, the one I adore, the one I love? Is the one she gives when I walk through the door.

That was one of the writing that I read in Varun's notebook. Was it possibly for Tabassum?

"Do you think he likes her?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Tara shrugged. "Why? Planning to intervene?"

"No!" I winced at how defensive I sounded, drawing a startled look from a passing student. I hugged my arms across my middle, speaking through gritted teeth. "I just... He is my friend and honestly I didn't think she was his type."

"And what exactly is his type?" Her voice softened. "You?"

My heart did a somersault without asking permission. Then Tabassum nudged Varun's shoulder playfully, and his serious face melted into something soft and sweet. Why did he never look at me like that?

It wasn't his happiness that hurt me. It was watching him be that special kind of happy with someone else. Those rare smiles I'd practically collected like precious gems were being suddenly handed out like pamphlets to Tabassum. "I think they need help," I declared abruptly. "I'm going to help them. You go ahead without me."

Tara's knowing laugh followed me as I marched toward them.

Their cozy duo was going to become a trio whether they liked it or not.

"How's it going, guys," I said, my smile so bright it almost hurt my cheeks.

"Sanjana?"

The surprise in Varun's voice had me second-guessing my decision. His smile had dwindled. Even his eyebrows looked confused, one slightly raised in that adorable way he had when he was processing something unexpected.

"I thought I'd help," I said, the words tumbling out a pitch higher than my normal voice. Smooth, Sanjana. Real smooth. "Tara and I are done with our tasks."

They both stared at me wide eyed. Why wouldn't they? I was always complaining and trying to get out of doing my work, so me offering to do more work was definitely suspicious.

"We just finished actually," Tabassum said, brushing dust off her hands.

I blinked, glancing between her and Varun, my brain doing that annoying thing where it decided to overthink everything at once. Jealousy wasn't my style. I was the girl who didn't get jealous. I was confident. Self-assured. The kind of person who didn't care about silly things like who laughed at whose jokes or who stood just a little too close during group projects.

Except right now, I absolutely cared.

Varun glanced at me, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Oh?" I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, trying to play it cool. "So, You guys are all done?"

"That's what I said," Tabassum responded, giving me a tight lipped smile.

"Well then," I said, plastering on a grin. "We should go to class. Don't want to be late."

Tabassum tilted her head. "We still have time."

My smile wavered. "Right... well, it's better to be early then. You know, to get good seats."

Tabassum raised an eyebrow, but thankfully, she didn't press further. She turned back to Varun. "I'll see you later. I need to speak to the cleaning staff about getting some extra help with the casino night."

He nodded and we watched her walk away. Once she was out of earshot, he turned to me. "You okay?"

"Of course," I said, too brightly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he studied me, his gaze steady and unwavering, the corners of his mouth quirking up just a fraction."You're acting weird," he finally said, his voice gentle but amused.

"I'm not acting weird," I countered, crossing my arms. "You're acting weird."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned and started walking toward the dorms. "There is something I wanted to tell you."

This was much better. Varun smiling with me. For me. I liked it. Grinning, I jogged to catch up with him. "What were you guys talking about?" I asked instead.

He opened his mouth to respond, but I held up a hand. "Don't say it was nothing because you guys were both laughing," I said, cringing at how petulant I sounded, but I couldn't help myself. "You should share with me too so I can laugh as well."

He frowned, slowing his steps. "Are you... feeling okay?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm perfectly fine. I just want to know what you guys were talking about."

He gave me another long, scrutinizing look before shaking his head with a soft laugh. "She was telling me how her brother-in-law kept calling her to ask for help because her sister was having terrible mood swings and pregnancy cravings. It's driving her up the wall."

"Oh?" I said stupidly. So it wasn't anything too personal. No inside jokes. That was good, but I still didn't like that he was laughing with her.

"Now can I tell you what I wanted to share with you," he said, stopping mid-stride. The way his expressions turned serious had me worried.

"What's wrong?"

"Harvard sent me an email. Even though my paperwork was late, they agreed to interview me."

My eyes widened. "Seriously?"

He nodded, and his smile grew into a wide grin, full of unguarded excitement. I squealed without thinking and threw my arms around him, catching him completely off guard. His body tensed for a second before he relaxed, but this time, he didn't hug me back. Still, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the steady thrum of his heartbeat against mine, the warmth of his body anchoring me, and the fleeting sense of everything falling perfectly into place, even if we were standing in the middle of campus where anyone could see us.

"Varun, that's amazing!" I said, pulling back slightly but keeping my hands on his shoulders. "When is it? And why didn't you tell me?"

"I found out this morning," he said, his voice tinged with the excitement he was trying to downplay. "They sent me an email late last night. I was trying to tell you, but..." His lips curved upward, amused. "You wouldn't let me finish."

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I tried to shrug it off with a grin. "You should've interrupted me harder. It's big news! And don't worry about the interview. They'd be literal idiots not to take you."

He smiled at me then, that rare, genuine smile. It made my chest feel just a little too full, like I was holding on to something fragile and precious.

"Thanks," he said softly, his voice almost shy.

Was he purposely trying to be this cute or something?

Clearing my throat, I gestured to him to walk. "How did Aunty react? I bet she is really happy."

"I haven't told her yet. I'll call her before class." He twisted his neck to look at me. "I wanted you to be the first one to know." He said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

My heart skipped a beat and then another. I realized with startling clarity that I wanted this guy.

Not just as my friend. Not just in the casual, harmless way I had begun caring about him. No, it was something much deeper. I wanted him.

I wanted to be the reason for those rare smiles that lit up his entire face. I wanted to be the one he sought out when he had good news. And not because I just happened to be nearby, but because he couldn't wait to tell me. I wanted to be the person he thought of first thing in the morning and the last before he fell asleep at night.

I wanted to be the one who knew all his quirks, his moods, the way his eyes softened when he talked about something he cared about. I wanted to memorize every version of his smile: The quick, amused one, the slow, thoughtful one, and the one that felt like a secret just for me.

I wanted stolen moments that were ours alone.

I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted him to kiss me, make love to me. I wanted him to tell me he loved me.

It didn't feel like it was a crush that I could just shrug off. It was all-consuming.

For the first time, I understood what people meant when they said that wanting someone could feel like falling. Not in a free-fall, chaotic kind of way. No, this was something steadier, something that had been building slowly, quietly—until it was undeniable.

"Anyway," I said, forcing a light tone into my voice. "We should celebrate later. Ice cream on me."

"No, there is no–"

"Yes, there is," I insisted, cutting him off before he could argue. "You, me, and ice-cream. Non-negotiable. And I promise no wild chases or trouble. Just simple ice-cream."

He looked like he was going to argue, but then decided against it because he knew it was going to be a losing battle. "Fine."

"Fine," I echoed, a grin spreading across my face. "It's a date."

His eyes widened slightly, and for a split second, I wondered if I'd gone too far. But before I could see his reaction, I spun on my heel and walked away, my heart thudding in my chest.