Page 122 - The World's Best Boyfriend

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Dhruv’s commitments were always severe. He took that shit seriously.

So while Ritika was getting her legs waxed, he sat patiently flitting through
glossy magazines on a leather couch in the reception area which had outlived its
intended use.
Unmindfully, he was running his fingers over the scar on his right palm he got

as a kid.
‘What’s up?’ a voice said, startling Dhruv.

Dhruv looked up to see Sanchit standing tall over his head. Sanchit had now
started faintly reminding him of Betal from Vikram and Betal, the pale white
ghost hanging from Vikram’s shoulders. ‘What are you doing here?’ asked
Dhruv.

‘Dean wanted me to conduct a pep talk for the first-year students. Tell them
about my glorious achievements and my struggles, you know. I would have

found it hard not to talk about the dean’s stupidity and his wife’s massive breasts
so I ran.’
Dhruv shrugged, trying not to think about the dean’s wife and her massive
breasts, but when you’re trying not to think about something you only think

about it more. He got back to the glossy.
‘I’m just making sure you don’t get bored. Hey, by the way, I never noticed

that scar on your right hand. It looks pretty badass,’ prodded Sanchit.
‘It’s a birthmark,’ deflected Dhruv.
‘Unless a baby actually came out of it, it is not a birth-mark, dude. I’m

departmental rank 4. I ask questions from the first bench till the professors break
down and take to heroin.’
Dhruv sighed. ‘Long story.’

‘No offence, but your girlfriend’s hairy as a yak. They are probably making
wigs out of her armpit hair and that’s going to take some time. Tell me your
story.’

Dhruv wanted to kick his teeth in but Sanchit’s skinny face only evoked pity,
much like little National Geographic kids, only fairer.
‘A door banged on it.’

‘That’s a short story, not the long one.’