Read Online The First Time (Love in No Time #1) by Bitsi Shar - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bitsi Shar
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love life, if you could call it that thus far.
“Who is he?” She is not giving up.
“Not telling you.” I say rather rudely. I take a sip of her strong ginger tea. I like it, though I am not liking her questions right now.
“So who, Ms. Sharma? Where did you find him?” As if he were a hundred rupee note that I found on the road and decided to keep for fun’s sake.
“I didn’t find him anywhere and there is nothing going on (yet, I add silently).
“I doubt very much that nothing is going on. Why is he calling this early and sounding kind of desperate to speak with you?” she counters.
“I don’t know” even as I think to myself “desperate”—why would he be desperate to speak to me—oh! Yes—yesterday—the fiasco it was and how I had run from the situation without getting him a chance to explain or apologize. Yes, an apology was in the offing. But Dipta doesn’t need all these details or any other detail for that matter. She is just goading me to spill and I am not spilling anything.
“He is not desperate. You are desperate to hear what you think might be dirty, juicy details of my semi-existent love life, right?” I am being a little harsh now.
And she sounds indignant when she says, “No, I am not desperate but as your friend I would like to know where all is your pussy dragging you these days!” Oh, she didn’t just voice that! OMG. I have never heard her talk this way.
“And yes, I would say he is desperate too because he asked me to tell you to call him back ASAP and he must have said this at least three times. And if he didn’t hear back from you before the evening is over, he was going to pay you a visit.” Her eyes are now bright with anticipation of what she might hear from me now.
“What, he said what?” She smiles but says nothing. She knows I heard her and that my question is purely rhetorical. No, absolutely no. He cannot come here. I am not ready for this. I am really irritated now. All this early morning inquisition is making me feel on the edge and I haven’t even finished my tea!
“Dipta, thanks for taking the call. I will call him when I have a chance and he is certainly not coming over this evening or any other evening. So if you get a chance to talk with him again do convey my sentiments to him.” I leave the kitchen. The conversation was over as far as I was concerned.
“No, its not. And you know its not.” Dipta is not one to give up so easily on mushy details of her friends’ lives. She is not bothered by my irateness or my reticence. She is patient like a hungry alligator—who waits and baits and then bites when no one is looking. Well, I will just have to be more patient than her and not take the bait. Maybe I should be answering all the phones from now on. This way I will prevent cross-connections. Right now I am just too damn angry with him to bother with Dipta’s agenda. Let him sweat. He deserves to after what he pulled on me yesterday.
Chapter Eleven
It turns out to be a very hectic day at work. I have three separate reports to file and two lessons to write. So its almost 2:30 p.m. before I come to and realize that I am a little hungry and a little brain-fuzzed. So I take a break, eat a sandwich I brought from home, drink half bottle of water, and take deep breaths. The air is heavy with dry heat making it difficult to not sweat or breathe heavy in the confines of a claustrophobic office space. “Sharma!” Some one is calling me by my surname again.
What happened to first name references?
Too formal for some?
Or is some one really fucking with me again?
I turn around, irritation writ large on my face when I see Dipta at the doorway, a smile writ large on hers. And there is a huge bouquet of pink roses in her hands. Wow! The flowers are really beautiful. Someone must really, really like her.
“Ms. Sharma, these just arrived for you.”
For me?!!!!!!!
There must be something wrong with this order. I don’t know of anyone who likes
“Who is he?” She is not giving up.
“Not telling you.” I say rather rudely. I take a sip of her strong ginger tea. I like it, though I am not liking her questions right now.
“So who, Ms. Sharma? Where did you find him?” As if he were a hundred rupee note that I found on the road and decided to keep for fun’s sake.
“I didn’t find him anywhere and there is nothing going on (yet, I add silently).
“I doubt very much that nothing is going on. Why is he calling this early and sounding kind of desperate to speak with you?” she counters.
“I don’t know” even as I think to myself “desperate”—why would he be desperate to speak to me—oh! Yes—yesterday—the fiasco it was and how I had run from the situation without getting him a chance to explain or apologize. Yes, an apology was in the offing. But Dipta doesn’t need all these details or any other detail for that matter. She is just goading me to spill and I am not spilling anything.
“He is not desperate. You are desperate to hear what you think might be dirty, juicy details of my semi-existent love life, right?” I am being a little harsh now.
And she sounds indignant when she says, “No, I am not desperate but as your friend I would like to know where all is your pussy dragging you these days!” Oh, she didn’t just voice that! OMG. I have never heard her talk this way.
“And yes, I would say he is desperate too because he asked me to tell you to call him back ASAP and he must have said this at least three times. And if he didn’t hear back from you before the evening is over, he was going to pay you a visit.” Her eyes are now bright with anticipation of what she might hear from me now.
“What, he said what?” She smiles but says nothing. She knows I heard her and that my question is purely rhetorical. No, absolutely no. He cannot come here. I am not ready for this. I am really irritated now. All this early morning inquisition is making me feel on the edge and I haven’t even finished my tea!
“Dipta, thanks for taking the call. I will call him when I have a chance and he is certainly not coming over this evening or any other evening. So if you get a chance to talk with him again do convey my sentiments to him.” I leave the kitchen. The conversation was over as far as I was concerned.
“No, its not. And you know its not.” Dipta is not one to give up so easily on mushy details of her friends’ lives. She is not bothered by my irateness or my reticence. She is patient like a hungry alligator—who waits and baits and then bites when no one is looking. Well, I will just have to be more patient than her and not take the bait. Maybe I should be answering all the phones from now on. This way I will prevent cross-connections. Right now I am just too damn angry with him to bother with Dipta’s agenda. Let him sweat. He deserves to after what he pulled on me yesterday.
Chapter Eleven
It turns out to be a very hectic day at work. I have three separate reports to file and two lessons to write. So its almost 2:30 p.m. before I come to and realize that I am a little hungry and a little brain-fuzzed. So I take a break, eat a sandwich I brought from home, drink half bottle of water, and take deep breaths. The air is heavy with dry heat making it difficult to not sweat or breathe heavy in the confines of a claustrophobic office space. “Sharma!” Some one is calling me by my surname again.
What happened to first name references?
Too formal for some?
Or is some one really fucking with me again?
I turn around, irritation writ large on my face when I see Dipta at the doorway, a smile writ large on hers. And there is a huge bouquet of pink roses in her hands. Wow! The flowers are really beautiful. Someone must really, really like her.
“Ms. Sharma, these just arrived for you.”
For me?!!!!!!!
There must be something wrong with this order. I don’t know of anyone who likes
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