Chapter Four

Anil

Unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable. Those were the two things that kept going through Anil’s head when he saw Risa for the first time after 10 year at the dinner Party his aunt had thrown. She had grown overnight from the skinny tomboy who would follow him around like a puppy dog, declaring that I love Anil, and when I grow up, I’m gonna marry him!” Who are you, Ralph Wiggum? to a grown woman so beautiful she hurt his head (among other things). Not that she’d have anything to do with him. The very first thing she did when she met him was slap him and flash her cleavage. She glared at him and muttered, “ Not so flat-chested and dorky now, am I, ?” Oh Christ. God, I’m screwed. Surprisingly enough, he had managed to charm her into forgiving him. Yet somehow, despite their intense conversation, he just *couldn’t* get laid.

Damnit! Why is it things always come back and bite me in the ass? How was I supposed to know she’d grow up so gorgeous? She looks like Miss January, only more exotic. Why won’t she let me touch her? I’ll marry her, honest! Ok, who am I kidding? Marriage is the *last* thing on my mind. I just want to touch her and get close to that perfect body... He sighed, reflecting on his mixed blessings. Yeah, he got the girl, but at what price? She never let him near her. Jesus, he was lucky if he even got to second base. She never let him get there. He was sure she was still bitter about how he had treated her. Well, who could blame her, but still...

He liked her, he really did. It was just really hard to show her. He kept trying to say the right thing, but he kept putting his foot in his mouth. It’s not his fault; She knows waay too much about sex to be a virgin. Also, why does she act like a spoiled American girl if she’s not an American Born Confused Desi? For crying out loud, she didn’t even speak Hindi, or wear her sari properly at parties. She was actually brazen enough to come baring her perfectly flat midriff and her top, without putting the cover over her shoulder and covering her chest. Why can’t you be Indian, for once in your fucking life? We’re not children anymore, Risa. I wish you’d just 8grow* up and accept your culture. You can’t run from who you are. Each time they’d have this fight, it would end the same way: she’d slap him and accuse him of being a judgmental prick, then he’d point out that’s how an American would talk. She’d get infuriated, threaten to not sleep with him once they were wed and mutter things about arranged marriages being bullshit.

It’s not an arranged marriage, my love. Not really. You’ve always wanted this, since you were 10. You’re just angry because you can’t sow those wild oats anymore. I’m forcing you to grow up and stop being a teenager. You didn’t have to say yes. You didn’t have to accept my proposal. You *chose* this life. Our life together. You chose me, so live with it and quit moping and pouting like a little girl.

Tonight had gone really well. They actually managed to eat lunch together without fighting. She let him kiss her. More than a chaste peck, too. It felt so good to kiss her. He knew she was squirming when she was with him, but if he held on to her tight enough, she wouldn’t leave. She’d relax in his arms and learn to love him. He hated her freinds, especially Bart. That boy was the world’s biggest dick. He reminded Anil of every kid who ever stuffed him in a locker, dunked his head into a toilet bowl, or made fun of him. That and he hated the way Risa and Bart looked at each other. So intense, so wordless. He despised how they effortlessly finished each other’s sentences and blurting out things at the same time. The way they mirrored each other’s movement’s and seemed to always know what the other was thinking. Fuck, they even *dressed* alike. She swore he was just a friend, but their connection was too intense. He’d get the truth from her, someday.

He had gone to her place to watch Roswell with her loser friends. He decided to be nice, just so he could be the “caring, sensitive boyfriend”. He actually had a decent time. Her friend Bennie was incredibly ditzy and juvenile, but she was interesting to say the least. HE still disliked Bart, but they had fun mocking Max. He hated how everyone mocked Liz, though. He thought she was beautiful. He wished Risa would be more like Liz, but he would never dare say this. He knew she’d kick hiss ass if he did. He didn’t see what the big deal was. So she didn’t have huge breasts, or a perfect shape. He felt funny saying this, but it didn’t matter. Ok, so 99.9 percent of the time, he liked breasts. Huge, porn star breasts. For some reason, Shiri appealed to him. She was this natural aura about her. She didn’t need makeup; she was just beautiful as is. Sexy? No, but she was lovely. He liked Risa’s look, but she really could tone down her makeup and clothes. Ris, is it *really* necessary to wear glitter, corsets, combat boots and dog collars? You’re so beautiful without it. Then again, you’ll never listen to me, will you? Always making a statment, always needing to be so provocative. Fine, be my guest. Just know you don’t need it. You could just try showing some class and dressing tastefully.

He woke up and noticed she wasn’t asleep on his shoulder. Pity, he liked having her lean on him. He could cop a feel without her slapping his hand away every two seconds. Ok, ok, I’m a jerk. Throw me a bone, baby. You *never* let me near you. I just wanted us to be close. This wait is killing me... he waited for her to come back, but after 30 minutes, he got worried, so he got up to leave. He got into his BMW and drove around, looking for her. He couldn’t find her at all. He frowned for a moment, trying not to worry. Maybe she just got hungry yeah, that it-she wants food. She went out to it. Either that or she realized she was leaning on your shoulder and you disgust her so much she had to get away from you. Yeah, that’s it Anil. She’ll never love you. You’re just some rich trust-fund sucker who’s paying her bills. You’ll never get laid.

He rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the bad thoughts out of my head. Anil knew she would never do that to me. They’d known each other for like, ever. She’d never been like that. Then again, it had been 10 years. What kind of woman are you, really Risa? Can I even trust you, or are you using me?

...

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