Lightning (An Ansh short story)

You had just spent your first "poora din" with her. Nothing fancy really. A day spent picnicking under the trees that stood by the lake where you first met her. You had cooked all her favorites and had taken great pleasure out of feeding her with your own hands. She was impressed by your culinary skills.

There was this one moment when you had cracked a joke and she was laughing and then she stopped and the sunlight hit strands of her hair, making it glow. She looked at you and said 'You're everything'.

You didn't know what to say to that. The moment passed and she started telling you about how, as a little girl, she thought that telling a lie would make her nose swell up. The sky was overcast and you couldn't stop laughing, wishing you had known her when she was a little girl.

A big fat drop of moisture fell on your nose. You looked up and noticed that the overcast sky had started drizzling. You scrambled, she scrambled. By the time you collected your picnic supplies, Mother nature was sending down sheets of water. You tried to ignore how her wet choli clung to her skin.

Had your life been a movie, you would have found a nice, deserted cabin nearby where you would have taken some, ahem, shelter of the promiscuous sort. But your life was not a movie and the two of you stood under a leafy banyan tree, waiting for the rain to abate.

But sometimes, life can be better than a movie, like when lightning struck and the booming thunder compelled a frightened Anandi to leap into your arms.

You looked into her stricken eyes and the world went blank. Her fear seemed to have abated a little and she was staring at you with that intense, adoring look. You stammered some nonsense, which you honestly don't remember right now. It couldn't have been important given how Anandi ignored it. She lifted her hand and rested it against your cheek. She was so close, close enough that you could feel her breath on your skin. Her breath, the feel of her soft hand and her still-heaving chest, you went into auto-pilot. You kissed the wrist of the palm which rested on your face, you kissed up her hand, the crook of her elbow, her tricep, her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck. She was making these guttural sounds that were driving you wild. If she kept it up, you would lose control. Maybe to silence those moans, maybe because thunder had crashed again and you didn't know what else to do, or maybe just because you wanted to taste her, you kissed her.

She responded almost immediately. Maybe she was on autopilot too. You deepened the kiss and her knees buckled. You chortled and held her in your arms to steady her. She smiled against your lips. Her tiny little kisses were dancing the tango with your senses. Before she could feel your body's reaction, you stopped the kiss. She pouted. She was so freaking cute. She vibrated you on a whole new frequency.

The drive back home was a quiet affair. You enjoyed a companionable silence and she leaned her head out of your car window. Not caring that the wind would mess up her wet hair or that bugs might hit her eyes given the speed at which you were driving. You stopped the car a few meters away from her home, under this dirty yellow light that reminded you of car parks and oil stains.

And now you're just looking at her. Her adoring eyes and her quivering mouth. Though she's yet to say those three words, you can feel them on her breath and in her eyes and hidden in every nook and corner of her being.

Her hand ghosts across your cheek again and she lets herself out of the car. She beckons for you to lean over and you do. She whispers into your ear:

Main ek baat boloon?

Haan, bolo?

Mujhe lightning se darr nahi lagta.

She walked away, her hips asway, enticing you. She knows the effect she can have on you. Innocent village belle, as if!

She turned around and gave you a wicked smile.

Your shock wore off and you laughed into the night. This girl was dangerous!