Page 140 - The World's Best Boyfriend

Sanchit saw through the stories Dhruv tried to sell him but he knew all too
well why Dhruv was poring over books, wasting precious paper and missing his
morning cardio. He couldn’t help but think that it had to do with Aranya’s

meteoric rise in the social fabric of DTU in the past two weeks, which had been
nothing less than legendary. Sanchit, the reigning King Nerd of DTU, had been
surprised when he attended one of the classes Aranya held to help out the weak

students of the class (she had started with teaching one girl in her hostel and the
crowd had swelled to thirty-three at last count). The girl was good, better than
most professors even. And the college was rightfully talking about it. Sanchit

knew this girl would go down in history. People would talk about her long after
she was gone. The professors already were.
Sanchit remembered the last time it had happened, he was at the centre stage

of it all. He was a young, untouched boy from a small town, hard-working as
fuck and sharper than three grandmasters put together. In a college that prided
itself on its research, a student like Sanchit was a virgin gold mine. No sooner

had he topped the mid-semester examinations than he was drafted into the
projects of three top-notch professors and he couldn’t say ‘no’. Three months of
sleep deprivation and mind-numbing research pushed him to the brink, and in

that brink lay the undiscovered world of alcohol, cigarettes and weed. It
consumed Sanchit completely, robbed him of his desire to blow his professors’

cocks to be in their good books, and he dropped out of the projects
unceremoniously. The professors were pissed but alcohol and weed make you a
hell of a good liar and when he told them, tears in his eyes, hands shaking, about
his brother (non-existent) who had died in a gruesome road mishap, they decided

he needed time to grieve. Since then, Sanchit had been grieving.
History was repeating itself and the girl was being courted by covetous

professors who wanted mules to carry out their dirty, dreary, tiring research
work, but Aranya had held her ground. She had become quite notorious for
rejecting projects from the bigwigs in the college. He had heard Prof. Mitra, the
dean, wasn’t impressed by the rejection at all (no one had ever rejected the

dean).
His dislike for Prof. Raghuvir, the genius, was never hidden. But Aranya had

nothing to worry about, with Professor X, Raghuvir, behind her there was
nothing to worry. And of whatever little Sanchit knew, he guessed she was
looking for Raghuvir to offer her a research scholar spot.