“So you actually don’t care!” Her tone sounded more bewildered than…… surprised, maybe?

I shook my head, a confident smile plastered on my face since the start of the day. “Nope. I’m over the whole yearning for him phase”, I reply coolly, brushing off her eye roll.

“You can call it a phase for all you like but I know! I know it wasn’t some random guy that you just ‘liked’. You can’t have gotten over him overnight.”

I was beginning to get annoyed at this point. I wanted her to let it go and here she was pushing me over glass shards again. “Well, I did! I’ve moved on. I have a life, I’ve realized.”

“How?” I look back at her, eyes big and a brow cocked. There’s genuine concern and the question is heavy with confusion and disbelief. “How do you let someone you’ve spent forever talking to and fallen in love with and been so faithful even though you had no reason to, go like that?”

Why did it matter to her? Or to anyone, at all. “I just did. I went to sleep thinking of waking up cut from everything that was weighing me down. A stupid fantasy that I had”, I blurted out, hurriedly blinking away the sharp prickling in my eyes. DO NOT CRY. NOT IN FRONT OF HER. SHE WON’T BUY ANY OF IT. WE NEED TO LET THIS GO.

“So now you’re actually done?”

I signed heavily. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t exhausted physically. But here I  was so so drained and with zero energy to keep my knees from giving way. The answer to her question constantly running through my mind, furiously wrecking havoc through every inch of my conscience. Before I could process how stupid my answer was going to sound after I had just said everything I didn’t want to, I’d done the damage.

“No”, I whimpered. Yes, that was a proper whimper. Maybe it was my head playing games with me or maybe I was actually capable of being so hurt that every word that came out of me after, came out heavily doused in betrayal.

“NO to everything you just asked”, I almost half scream at her, furious that she had made me so vulnerable. No, that I had made me so vulnerable. “NO! There. I can’t lie even if my life depended on it and that’s what really gets me into trouble here. I wanted to tell you that I was over my best friend. I wanted to convince you to a point where your believing in everything I said convinced me. But that’s not going to help because you really hit me hard in the gut with a question I wanted to, subconsciously, avoid answering.

I can’t be done, Myra. Everything that I’ve done and everything that I’ve said has only been everything that I’ve picked up from speaking to him for so so long. Truth be told, I don’t want to be done. Yes, I missed my chance when I could tell him that I liked him. But, I didn’t because I never fully knew I could fall in love with anyone until the only person I could imagine walking into a room full of people with, was the same person that asked someone else to be his plus one. It’ll feel like a punch in the throat when I might have to hear her name and know he’s happy. I don’t want to hear everything about his day because he saw her or because she said something funny or did something for him. And yet, I’ll want to hear all about it. I want to put myself through the torture of knowing, if I had just been gutsy enough to tell him that he needed to choose me, I didn’t have to feel like I was coming apart. I want to believe he would have made the choice. Heck, I want to believe I was never even a choice. I want to believe that maybe, something will go wrong.

And here’s what I really wanted to believe a little while ago. I wanted to believe that she’s capable of breaking his heart even after seeing how wonderful a human he is. But now that the thought of forgetting how I’ve really taken a strong liking to his stupid, charming existence, has crept into my head, I don’t want her to walk away anymore. I want something absolutely cruel.

I want them to fall out of love with each other.”

Myra’s big, brown eyes that lacked lustre a while back suddenly seemed shiny and the unmissable twinkle was almost blinding. From the way her face was twitching, an evil smirk struggled on the corner on her lips. How was this funny or even slightly amusing to this person I called my ‘soul sister’? It felt like my very soul ached and she didn’t seem to so much as be in agony like anyone with a soul connection should be in.

“What?!” I growl, brows furrowing deeper. “Is this not what you wanted to hear?”

The stupid smile on her stupid face has only gotten bigger with every word I barked at her. A thin frame steps out of her shadow, hands folded across his chest and head nodding slowly.

Kill me, I pray.

“Myra doesn’t really care about what you said. But I definitely needed to hear that.”

Kill me please, I pray harder. I wanted this to be a dream. Please be a dream. I didn’t want to be able to recognise the cocky smile I was super crazy about.

His head tilts to the side, taking in the mighty mess that I looked like, sniffling 3000 times a second. What a sight to sore eyes I might’ve been!

“Well, Well, well. Aren’t you a sight to sore eyes”, he mocks. Cue lightheadedness. And just on time, my head spins like the tyres on a car going a 120 mph. “Setting the snot covered face aside for now, I’d pick you over the ‘other choice’, I think.”

I huff. “You think? You don’t have to. It’s not like you have an obligation. I can survive.” Feisty.

“Oh, you will, will you?”

I roll my eyes, mimicking Myra to the best of my abilities. “I will.”

“Not cute”, he shakes his head, making the ugliest face of all time. “Quick question, by the way.”

I raise my brows, nodding at him, half smiling and half cautious.

“Be my plus one, maybe?”

P.s – I think I just got my best friend to ask me out. I’m not entirely sure, though. (Part of the story.)

You know how there are all kinds of sexuality these days? (Yep, we’re speaking about sexulaities here so that’s code for your girl is starting to grow up a little and not snicker at everything she says.) Over careful analysis (Nonsense!) and over the years experimenting (Literally, zero experiments.) I’ve come to believe I might be …. *drum rolls*…. asexual. (Incapable of feels.) Yep! That HAS to explain why I walk around with negative attraction to anyone. Like a constant repulsion, 365/24*7. To explain my ‘Single like a pringle, never ready to jingle’ status that ‘I’ve upheld with unnecessary pride and a small amount disappointment on the side, I’m warming up to the idea of just being ‘asexual’. Please let this be a thing until I meet a white horse riding Prince or frog or whatever.

Contrary to ‘Single life is THE life’ being my motto (Totally kidding.), I switched it up a little bit and went with the girl actually getting the guy. Ya know? Like the kind of thing that legit happens to 0.002% of the population. I hope you guys have a great day. xD

My last post: The girl with a blue shirt and white sneakers.

I bet you’ll want to follow me on Instagram because obviously I’m such a joy. (Much air in the head.)

Love, laughter and bouncy balls,


13 Replies to “BE MY PLUS ONE| FICTION”

  1. So, you have been asked out. That’s good, I mean great.
    This might be a fiction, but it somehow felt real. May be a part of the feelings felt and expressed have been felt at some point, not exactly, but close enough.

    And don’t worry, you won’t be single for long, even if you want to carry it like a crown, you will find the one. Or may be you already have- the “guy” in the story.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Yeah, I understood that the feelings were real. Because it felt real.
        But still, fiction, huh?

        It will happen soon. And you would get a chance to boast about it all over the blog.*Fingers crissed*

        I wouldn’t complain, either. 😜

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s