Dating : Yours truly

Darshi always knew what buttons to push. She knew exactly what to say to get a rise out of him.

Sahan made this discovery on one of their first dates, many moons ago. It had been a comment on his outfit.

You know, for something you obviously picked up in Pettah, that shirt isn’t half bad. I think it’s growing on me.

Oh, yeah?

Uh huh. I almost don’t want to take him home anymore, she had said, her gaze momentarily returning to the tall, dark waiter she had been openly eyeing all evening.

The pang was still as sharp as it had been back then. Sahan recalled, in vivid detail, how his muscles had tensed, the way the hairs on the back of his neck had tingled and a single drop of sweat had trickled down the small of his back, his eyes looking anywhere but at her. He remembered how, in less than a second, everything had changed forever.

Without warning, Darshi had snuck her hand under the table and found his bulge, the thin fabric of his pants doing a laughably poor job of hiding his secret, his great shame.

I fucking knew it, she had said, her expression unreadable.

Sahan remembered how everything froze, how time itself seemed to stand still, as the blood in his groin a second ago was now being pumped to the veins in his cheeks. He remembered the overpowering urge to disappear.

But the one memory from that fateful evening still fresh in his mind was the glint in Darshi’s eye as she said, Aren’t you glad you found me?

To be continued…