Half Girlfriend

Read Half Girlfriend for Free Online

Book: Read Half Girlfriend for Free Online
Authors: Chetan Bhagat
basketball friend?' I said as we
    reached the ear, ‘Well, that, and my lemonade-and-mince friend,'
    'How about tea friend?'
    ‘Sure,’ She stepped inside the car and sat down. She rolled down
    the window to say goodbye.
    'Or a movie friend?'
    'Hmm,'
    ‘What?’
    ‘Need to think about it.’
    ‘Think about what?’
    ‘Will the royal highness condemn me to death if I say no?’
    I laughed. ‘I might.’
    ‘See you later, Prince,’ she said. The car drove off. '
    I didn’t know if I was a real prince or not, but I had found my
    princess.
    4
    Three months later
    'Did you just put your hand on mine?’she whispered, but loud
    enough for people around us in the movie theatre to look our way.
    'Accidentally,’ I said.
    'Learning big English words, are we?’ she said.
    'I'm trying.’
    ‘Mr Madhav Jha, you have come to see a movie. Focus on that.’
    'I'm trying,’ I said again. I turned my attention back to Shah Rukh
    Khan. He had rejoined college and was singing ‘Main hoon na’ to
    anyone in need of reassurance.
    We had come to the Odeon Cinema in Connaught Place. Riya had
    finally agreed to see a movie with me. She had lost a basketball bet -
    she had challenged me to score a basket from half-court in one try.
    ‘Now that will be a super shot,’ she had said.
    ‘What do I get? A movie treat?’
    ‘You can’t do it.’
    I had given it a try and failed the first week. Half-court shots are
    tough. I couldn’t do it in the next two weeks either.
    ‘See, even destiny doesn’t want us to go out,’ she had said.
    In the fourth week, I put in all the focus I had and made my shot.
    The ball hit the ring, circled around it twice and fell into the basket.
    ‘Yes,’ I screamed.
    Even though she had lost the bet, she clapped.
    ‘So, do I get a date?’ I said.
    ‘It’s not a date. We just go for a movie. Like friends.’
    ‘Isn’t that what high-class people call a date?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘What’s a date then?’
    ‘You want to see the movie with me or not?’ she had said, her
    hands on her hips.
    The hands-on-hips pose meant no further questions. In the three
    months I had known her, I knew she hated being pushed. I thought
    maybe that was how rich people were-—somewhat private. We
    overdid the familiarity in our villages anyway.
    Now, as Shah Rukh Khan continued his song, I wondered what I
    meant to her. We met in college every day, and ended up having tea at
    least three times a week. I did most of the talking. I wou!dftell her
    stories from the residences, or ‘rez’, as the students called them—the
    fancy word for hostels in Stephen’s. I was in Rudra-North, and told
    her tales of messy rooms, late-night carrom matches and the respect
    we needed to show seniors. She listened intently, even smiled
    sometimes. When I asked herabout her home, she didn't say much.
    Back in Dumraon it is unthinkable for friends to not share every detail
    about themselves. High-class people have this concept called space,
    which means you cannot ask them questions or give them opinions
    about certain aspects of their life.
    Am I special to her? I kept asking myself. Sometimes I saw her
    chatting with other guys and felt insanely jealous. My insistence on
    seeing a movie together was to find out what Riya Somani really
    thought of Madhav Jha. I had held her hand to figure out where I
    stood. Given her reaction, nowhere.
    In fact, she removed her arm from the armrest for the rest of the
    movie. She seemed upset, even though she never said a word. She
    kept watching the film.
    *
    ‘Is everything okay?’ I said. She sipped her drink in silence. We
    had walked from Odeon to Keventers, famous for its milkshakes sold
    in glass bottles.
    ‘Uh huh,’ she said, indicating a yes. I hated this response of hers.
    We had finished two-thirds of our milkshakes without talking to
    each other. She looked straight ahead, lost in thought. I felt she would
    cry if poked.
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘What?’ she said, surprised.
    ‘About

Similar Books

Soccer Duel

Matt Christopher

Hidden Depths

Ann Cleeves

Edge of Midnight

Charlene Weir

Runaway Vampire

Lynsay Sands

Sleepwalking With the Bomb

John C. Wohlstetter

Life Sentences

Laura Lippman