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  • Writer's pictureSonal

Hey, Lover Boy!

Hey Classmate Crush,

I almost forgot that you existed, but the other day when I saw my niece smiling at texts she received from her own crush, it reminded me of you. Yes, you. So, how have you been?

Do girls still swoon over that stubble-layered steep jawline of yours, while you pretend not to notice? Do you still have that smooth hairstyle, which sort of made you look like a younger Al Pacino? Do you still wear your black turtleneck every so often, claiming it to be your favorite, but the truth being that you were too lazy to sort out your cupboard?

Do you still have that scar on your head from that one time you stupidly bumped your head into an overhead cabinet in the Chemistry Lab? Do you still play basketball in the rain? Do you still ask not-so-pretty girls like me to set you up with their friends?

Truth be told, your face came as a blur to me, it took me a while to recollect the way you look. The way you walked, with that imposed Hrithik Roshan gait. The way you talked, swearing in every other sentence. Your entire aura threw off a cool air. But now that I think of it after 5 years, you were kind of a jerk. A jerk with a not-so- great mind, but, with a face and body so damn marvelous. Oh, the number of girls who could have killed for you!

If you ever get this letter, you might wonder why I'm writing to you after all this time. In fact, you might not even remember who I am. Of course, I won't blame you for that, for you had your eyes set on the hotter species. It's quite obvious to overlook the existence of the lower strata. But now that I am writing to you, maybe hear me out for the first and the last time?

My 23 year old self doesn't want to date you. Not now, not ever. But my 18 year old self was head over heels in love with you. She was in love with the way you ruffled your hair after drenching in the rain. With the way your eyes gleamed when you talked about the latest edition of Top Gear. The way you turned into a kid every time you ran down the street to buy your favorite kulfi. When you absent-mindedly spun your pencil around your thumb while engrossed in deep thoughts. That tiny black spot towards the left of your lips, and those gleaming hazel eyes. The knuckle cracking before starting the exam. The sight of you walking into the room. Did I ever talk to you? No. Why? Because the brain always thought it was always a good time to blabber like a blithering idiot like Mr Filch did. Who would want that, especially while talking to a crush? But gazing at you from the diagonally opposite seat of yours wasn't bad either. So, yes. That's about it. Maybe you'll give yourself a cheeky grin if and when you get this letter. It's a victory after all when girls run after you, isn't it? Or maybe you would throw it in the trash. Does either of these matter to me? No. The crush has dissolved since quite a while now. Love(?), Just Another Girl Who Liked You

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