I need help

The next morning, Shreya woke up extra early. She took her sweet time bathing and as she stepped out wrapped in a towel she walked towards her closet.
Standing there, with a plethora of clothes, she felt as if she had nothing to wear. This was worse than taking finals. How could she, a fashion blogger, not know what to wear to college? That's not a real shocker though. She only ever wore weird combinations that looked amazing in pictures, of course, but in real life, they were a big ‘no’.

Also, how would she know what to wear to look… friendly?

When tapping her feet and staring at her clothes got too tiring, she huffed and sat on the edge of her bed.

Pathetic, useless, Shreya.

She thought. She didn’t want to go to college but that wasn’t an option now. She had promised Vansh that she’d try making friends and the first step towards it was to go to college, attend the classes and talk to at least one person.

She pulled on her hair as she tried to pick an outfit again, but her just feet weren’t ready to stand up. Stubborn, lazy feet, she thought as she hit her legs.

She needed help. There was only one person she could go for help.
She grabbed her phone and called Vansh, the only human she was talking to that was close to her age.

She heard the irritating ring of call but for the first time in her life, she was happy to hear it. But as the ringing continued, her happiness reduced.
"Pick the damn phone", she grits her teeth.

At about the fifth ring, Vansh picks up the call and in a very husky and sleepy voice says, “Hello”

Swoon!

“Vansh! I need your help” she shouted in her phone.

“Sh… Shreya?” he stuttered and then she heard the sound of something heavy falling on the ground with a ‘thud’

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, yes” he answered, excitement clear in his voice, “what did you need help with?”

“Can you come over?” she asked nervously.

“Now? Sure, sure, of course” he said and hung up on her.

A few minutes later, a heavy body emerged from the window that she opened once the call ended. The sun was rising and the rays falling behind him made him look almost ethereal.
His hair was messy, his eyes sleepy and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. A T-shirt. She had never seen him in casual wear and for some reason, he’s just-got-out-of-bed-to-casually-look-hot look was hotter than his everyday suits.

He looked so bloody gorgeous while she sat here looking like a potato in a towel, a hot pink towel at that.

“Oh,” he exclaimed as he stepped in the room, a moment later he added, “oh fuck” as his eyes scanned her body – up and down.

“Aha is someone needy this morning?” he smirked as he moved closer to her, his eyes still raking over her body. As he reached out to hold her, she nodded and pushed his hand away.

“Don’t distract me, I need help”

“How may I serve you, m’lady?” he asked in the fakest British accent ever as he bowed deeply.

“Help me choose an outfit,” she said and pulled him to her closet alongside her.

“I don’t see any problem with what you are wearing? The hot pink is nice, but it's kinda distracting and loud, you could drop it. You will look exquisite like that” he suggested with a naughty smile on his face as his eyes darkened ever so slightly as he gawked at her again.

She turned to face him with a scowl on her face and in a serious face asked, “Where is your horny button?”

He smiled cheekily as he pointed to his dick and moved his hips obscenely and unnecessarily detailed. She pulled herself away from the gutter that her mind was ready to jump into, and pressed on his dick in a switch-like-manner.

“Horny – off”, she said offhandedly and said, “Now help me find an outfit for my class or I’ll be late”

“It’s 6 in the morning” he paused, “your class starts at 9” he emphasized dramatically.

“I like being prepared, now will you help or not?”

“Of course, how do you want to slay them today?” he asked, amazingly taking up the role of a stylist, imitating a weird-complimentary accent that all stylists have somehow mastered.

“Friendly. I want to look friendly”, she whispered a hint of sadness in her tone.

She wished she had a girlfriend that she could go shopping with, that she could gush about Vansh with while her girlfriend gushed about his whatever. If she was in a relationship, they could even go on double-dates. It would be so much fun.

They could go on adventures, watch movies, prank each other and whatnot.

He asked her to sit on her bed as he started rummaging in her closet. Five minutes of her trying to sit patiently while she bit on her lips and nails, her assault on her body parts finally stopped when Vansh emerged with clothes in his hand.

Her poor nails, she thought and got up, grabbed whatever he had chosen and ran to her bathroom. Dressed in a white crop top with little golden chains hanging from her neck and boyfriend jeans, she stepped out of the bathroom. She kept her make up casual, just a nude lipstick and kajal. She looked at herself in the floor-length mirror and approved. She looked decent, good but not intimidatingly fashionable, approachable and friendly.

This was the time for her to make a second ‘first impression’

And she was ready for it.

Vansh was lying on her bed, his legs sprawled and a pillow over his face. She still had two hours to go and her boyfriend was not going to spend that time sleeping while she was here.

‘What could they do this early in the morning while staying in this room except for sex?’, she asked herself.

Not much but your boring 20 questions piped in her subconscious. Been off for a long time, but she still had her wits and ideas. 2o questions didn’t seem like a bad idea.

Shreya crawled on top of him and lay down over his sprawled body; her face resting on his chest listening to his heartbeat.

He wrapped his arms around her and in a husky yawn asked, “Ready?”

“Yeah. Thank you. Do you want to sleep?” she asked.

“Why, what did you have in mind?” he fired, his eyes wide awake and his voice dripping of lust.

“20 questions” she answered with a jump in her voice, ignoring his tone and answering his questions.

“20 questions?” he asked, ridiculed.

“Yes, I don’t know much about you” she replied.

“Okay, shoot,” he said as he stifled a yawn.

“When is your birthday?”

“20 November”

“Oh, it’s near. Morning person or night person?”, she asked.

“Please miss, it’s my turn to ask” he argued and after staring at her pout for enough time to turn into a scowl he asked, “When is your birthday?”

“You took so much time to ask this!” she screeched, then soon answered, “March 1”

“Nice, I got a lot of time to prepare”

“If you stay that long” she answered almost on auto-pilot.

“Shreya” he sang her name in a very patronizing way and said, “Do not doubt so much!”

“I know, I just can’t help it. Anyway, morning or night?” she quickly asked, deflecting the argument that would surely happen if they stayed on that topic.

“Night, I guess, but sometimes morning. What’s your idea of a perfect date?” he asked. Sneaky bastard!

“A book cafe where both of us sit and cuddle while sipping on a cup of coffee and sharing our favourite parts of books. And once we are tired, driving to a beach where there are peaceful waves and silent night. Then we get naked, go for a swim and make love on the sand and stare at the beautiful stars and talk until we fall asleep. This is a peaceful kind of ideal date.” She answered.

“And what is the not-so-peaceful one?” he asked.

“My turn to ask” she replied cheekily and kissed the adorable little pout he made.