English · Friends
yesterday
The movie had been a riotous, popcorn-filled affair, a group of colleagues laughing their way through a comedy. As the credits rolled, the group disbanded in the bustling mall parking lot with waves and "see you tomorrows." Everyone left, except for Aditi and Suhas.
"I just have to pick up my order from that boutique on the third floor. I won't be five minutes," Aditi said, checking her phone.
"Lead the way," Suhas replied with an easy smile. "No rush."
The pickup was quick, but their exit from the mall was met with a solid wall of water. The heavens had opened up, and rain was lashing down in thick, relentless sheets, drumming a frantic rhythm on the glass doors. The world outside was a blur of grey and shimmering neon.
"Well, that's not stopping anytime soon," Suhas observed, stating the obvious.
"Dinner?" Aditi suggested, and he readily agreed.
They found a quiet restaurant overlooking the rain-swept plaza, sharing a meal and easy conversation that flowed as naturally as it always did at their work desks. An hour later, the downpour had diminished to a steady, gentle drizzle.
"It's lightened up. I think we can make a run for it," Suhas said. "Our societies are in the same direction anyway."
They started walking, the cool, damp air a relief after the mall's climate control. They were about halfway to their residential complex when the skies broke open again with a vengeful fury. One moment it was drizzling, the next, they were drenched to the bone in seconds.
"This is insane!" Aditi yelled over the roar of the rain, her hair plastered to her face. "My apartment is just two blocks away. Come on!"
They sprinted the remaining distance, arriving at her building's lobby breathless and dripping like two drowned rats. The elevator ride up was a silent, puddle-making affair.
Once inside her warm, dry apartment, Aditi tossed him a large, fluffy towel. "Here, dry your hair at least. I'll be right back," she said, disappearing into her bedroom to change out of her own soaked clothes.
She returned a few minutes later in comfortable sweatpants and an old t-shirt, her damp hair tied up in a bun. She found Suhas standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, having vigorously towel-dried his hair so that it stuck up in slightly damp spikes. But his shirt was a dark, sodden weight on his shoulders, and his jeans were soaked through, leaving a small puddle on the floor.
"Suhas, you're going to catch a cold," she said, her voice laced with concern. "You can't stay in those."
Before he could protest, she vanished into her bedroom again. She emerged holding a pair of soft, grey night pants with a subtle floral pin stripe and a simple, lavender t-shirt. The clothes, while neutral in color, had an undeniably feminine cut.
She held them out. "I... um... I know they're not exactly your style," she began, a faint blush on her cheeks. "But I live alone. I don't exactly keep a stock of male clothes lying around. Please, just change. You'll feel better."
Suhas looked at the offered garments, then back at her, his expression a mixture of horror and amusement. "Aditi, I can't wear that."
"Oh, come on!" she said, her tone turning playful. She adopted a mock-serious expression. "Look, it's past ten, it's pouring cats and dogs, and no one is coming over. I promise you, your secret is safe with me. Cross my heart. No third person will ever hear the tale of Suhas and the lavender t-shirt."
She smiled, a warm, reassuring grin that crinkled the corners of her eyes. Suhas hesitated for a second longer, then sighed in defeat, a small laugh escaping him. The chattering of his own teeth decided for him. He hesitatingly took the clothes.
"The bathroom's right there," she said, pointing.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door creaked open. Suhas emerged, looking down at himself as if expecting the clothes to have transformed into a ballgown. The pants ended just at his ankles, and the t-shirt sleeves hit his biceps perfectly. The fit was, against all odds, almost impeccable. Not too tight, not too loose.
Aditi's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Wow," she said, a laugh bubbling up. "I mean... they actually fit you! I'm glad. I was worried the pants would be capris on you." She walked a slow circle around him, inspecting with mock-seriousness. "Looks like we're the same size. Who knew?"
Suhas gave a rueful smile, running a hand down the soft fabric of the t-shirt. "Don't get any ideas. This is a one-time emergency protocol."
Just then, a flash of lightning lit up the windows, followed immediately by a crack of thunder that shook the glass. The rain intensified, hammering against the windowpane with renewed force.
Aditi walked to the window and looked out at the impenetrable curtain of water. "Suhas... there's no way you're going home in this. It's a monsoon out there." She turned to him, her expression kind and practical. "Stay. The couch pulls out into a bed. It's comfortable, I promise. Leave in the morning when it's settled down."
He wanted to protest, to say he could call a cab, but they both knew no cab would come for a trip of two blocks in this weather. The practicality of the situation was undeniable. He nodded. "Okay. Thank you. And... thanks for the clothes."
"Anytime," she said with a grin, handing him a pillow and a blanket.
They said their goodnights, and Aditi retreated to her room. Suhas made up the bed on the couch, the soft, faintly floral-scented fabric of his borrowed pajamas feeling strangely comfortable. The rain continued its relentless symphony, a sound that was no longer threatening but now just a backdrop of white noise.
Lying in the dark, listening to the rain and the faint sounds of his friend moving about in her room, Suhas felt a wave of warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket. It was the warmth of a easy, uncomplicated friendship, of inside jokes and shared silences, and of a secret that would, true to her word, remain safely tucked away within these four walls. The rain finally began to soften, lulling them both into a deep, contented sleep
