The next day, Meera walked onto the football field, still thinking about the texts from Rohan last night. Her mood was a mix of irritation and longing.
Of course, as usual, she was the last one picked for the teams.
"Seriously?" she muttered under her breath.
Rohan was smirking across the field. "Relax, babe. You know you don't play that well. Am I saying anything wrong?"
Meera's cheeks burned. He was laughing with the boys, making jokes at her expense. She clenched her fists but said nothing, deciding to ignore him for the day.
Harsh, tossing the ball toward another player, noticed her tension. "You're brooding again. If you keep staring at him like that, I swear you'll trip over your own feet."
Meera rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks for the pep talk."
"Just stating facts," he said, grinning. "And, you know… don't let that idiot get to you."
Across the field, Rohan's attention seemed divided. He was talking to other girls, laughing, gesturing—but he glanced at Meera occasionally, a small smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. She felt a pang of jealousy but tried to focus on the game.
Later, during girls' practice, Rohan came near again.
"You know," he said casually, tossing a football in her direction, "you could at least try not to make us lose again."
Meera's hands tightened around the ball. "I'm trying, okay?" she muttered, her voice sharp.
Rohan laughed, loud enough for the other boys to hear. "Come on, don't be so serious. I'm just messing with you."
Meera took a deep breath and turned away, ignoring him.
By the afternoon, she noticed Rohan texting her while she was still keeping him at arm's length. She replied with sarcastic emojis, teasing him:
"Go ahead, check out other girls. Don't worry about little me 😏"
Rohan's reply came almost instantly:
"Come on, don't be silly. You know you're the one I like."
Meera's heart skipped a beat. She frowned at the screen. "Like… really like?" she typed back.
Rohan's response:
"Of course. You're just dramatic. 😘"
She shook her head, half amused, half frustrated. "This is exactly what I'm talking about…" she muttered to herself.
Meanwhile, Harsh, walking by after practice, leaned on the fence. "Texting Mr. Flirt again?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
Meera groaned. "Yes… and I hate that he makes me feel like this."
Harsh smirked, nudging her shoulder. "You like drama. Admit it. But don't worry. You'll survive him—and maybe you'll actually enjoy winning against him in football one day."
Meera laughed softly. "Thanks, Harsh. You're actually… helpful."
"Don't let it go to your head," he teased. "Just… remember, some people are all flash. Others… are worth your time."
Meera felt warmth spread through her chest at his words. Somehow, amidst the chaos of football and Rohan's teasing, she realized that Harsh's steady presence grounded her in a way she didn't fully understand yet.
The sun was just beginning to dip behind the trees when Meera arrived at the park. Harsh was already there, leaning casually against a bench, scrolling through his phone. When he saw her, a wide grin spread across his face.
"Hey, genius," he said sarcastically, tossing a small paper bag in her direction. "Congratulations on surviving the project without losing your mind."
Meera laughed, catching the bag. "You did most of the work, actually. I just… helped in spirit."
"Ah, yes," he said dramatically, bowing slightly. "Your spirit was invaluable. I almost cried a little."
Meera rolled her eyes but felt a warmth in her chest. Seeing him so happy made her heart slip a little, just like that.
"So," Harsh continued, standing upright, "ice cream first, or should we admire the park and its ancient statues while I lecture you about teamwork again?"
"Definitely ice cream," Meera said with a grin.
They walked toward the small ice cream stand, teasing each other the whole way. Harsh's sarcastic remarks kept Meera laughing, and she felt completely at ease with him, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.
At one point, he nudged her lightly with his shoulder. "You know, I can't believe how well you survived that project. I expected you to throw me under the bus at least once."
Meera smirked. "Maybe I just wanted to see you suffer a little."
"Ha! So that's why you stayed so calm," he said, mock serious. "Plotting vengeance in silence. Classic you."
As they sat on a bench, eating their ice creams, Meera glanced at her phone. A message from Rohan blinked on the screen. "Hey, meeting my friends tonight. Want to come?"
She stared at it for a second, then locked the phone and set it aside. This evening was about Harsh.
Harsh noticed her distraction. "Don't worry, you're safe. No boy drama allowed here. Just sarcasm and ice cream."
Meera laughed softly, feeling a strange flutter in her chest. "You're… really good to me, you know that?"
"Of course," he said, pretending to adjust an invisible tie. "I'm amazing. You're welcome."
But then his expression softened, just for a moment, and he added quietly, "I mean it. You deserve a good time… and someone who actually notices it."
Meera felt a little breathless, her heart beating faster. She looked at him and realized just how comfortable, yet electrifying, his presence was.
For the first time that day, she didn't worry about Rohan, the party, or anything else. She just laughed at his jokes, shared bites of ice cream, and let herself enjoy the moment with Harsh—the boy who had been there, sarcastic yet genuine, the entire way.
The next day, Meera was walking to class when she felt a sudden squeeze on her hand.
"Meera," Rohan said, his voice sharp. "You literally embarrassed me in front of my friends yesterday. Why didn't you come?"
Meera stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me? I'm not even your girlfriend, Rohan. So why should I listen to you and show up wherever you want?"
Rohan's jaw tightened, frustration flashing in his eyes. "You just don't get it, do you?"
Before Meera could reply, he suddenly grabbed her hand tighter and, in his rush, backed her against the door. She winced, a sharp pain shooting through her arm and shoulder.
"Rohan—!" she gasped, trying to step back, but he wasn't paying attention.
The force of him pressing her against the door startled her. Her heart raced, and a shiver of fear ran through her.
Then, almost as quickly as it happened, he stepped back. Meera staggered slightly, rubbing her arm, her face pale.
Rohan didn't apologize. He just gave her a frustrated look, muttered something under his breath, and walked away before she could even speak.
Meera stood there for a long moment, trying to calm herself. Her chest heaved, and her hands shook slightly.
"Is he… crazy?" she whispered to herself, glancing at the empty hallway where he had disappeared.
For the first time, Meera felt genuinely scared of Rohan—not because he was charming or playful, but because she had seen a flash of anger that felt unpredictable and… dangerous.
She leaned against the door for a moment, steadying her breathing, then slowly walked to class. Her mind raced, and a part of her felt conflicted—she didn't want to admit it, but she also couldn't deny the tension he always brought into her life.
After the unsettling incident with Rohan, Meera barely had the energy to check her results. When she finally did, her heart sank—her marks weren't great.
Harsh, who had been sitting nearby, noticed the change in her expression. "Hey, what happened? Did something go wrong?"
Meera sighed, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I… didn't score very well. I guess I just… panicked."
Harsh raised an eyebrow, half-serious, half-teasing. "Panicked? You? Hmm. Alright. I can teach you, if you want."
Meera blinked, a sarcastic smile tugging at her lips. "Oh really? You'd do that?"
Harsh smirked slightly, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Sure. But don't make me regret it, or I'll make you pay for every mistake."
Meera laughed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. Somehow, even his small teasing made her feel more at ease than Rohan ever did.
Later that evening, they sat down to study. Harsh was strict—he wasn't going to let Meera slack off—but there was a balance to him. He was serious about the work, yes, but patient.
When Meera stumbled over a problem or couldn't quite understand a concept, Harsh never laughed at her or made a rude remark. Instead, he explained carefully, repeating things as many times as needed. His voice had a calm authority, and yet there was a gentle humor in the way he motivated her.
"You've got to pay attention here," he said, tapping the paper lightly. "Otherwise, you'll fail again, and then I'll have to tutor you twice as much."
Meera rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small smile. "Oh, the horror. Twice as much time with Mr. Strict-and-Serious himself. I'll survive… I think."
Harsh just shook his head, a small grin on his face. "Don't get too confident. You still have a lot to catch up on."
As they continued, Meera realized something—this was the first time someone had been so serious about helping her without making her feel small or incompetent. She appreciated it more than she could say. And while Harsh could be strict, she also felt a growing comfort with him—a safety and ease that made her smile more than she had in days.