Seahorse Read Online Free Page B

And a look. You’re an idiot.
    One thing I was certain of, though, was that Adheer wasn’t unremarkable.
    A month into term, I tried to let my interest slip. Although it was difficult to ignore the whispers and hushed discussions swarming around Nicholas, alighting on him like bees. Once, outside the college café, where students usually gathered to smoke, I caught his name in conversation. Two girls, chatting, holding glasses of nimbu paani. I’d seen the one with short hair and a nose ring in last term’s college production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She’d played Titania, the fairy queen, and scandalized the senior members, and thrilled the rest, with her Biblical choice of costume—little more than flowers andleaves. Her companion, a willowy girl with sleek, straight hair and a pale almond-shaped face, came from my part of the country. A “chinky,” as they called us here in the north. She was studying English in the year below mine, and even though I hadn’t ever spoken to her, I knew her name was Larisa.
    I bought a samosa from the makeshift snack stall nearby, one that also dispensed lemon juice, and didn’t stray far, keeping them within eavesdropping distance.
    â€œHe’s British, but of Greek ancestry,” said Titania. “That’s what he told Priya, apparently.”
    I hadn’t known, but it explained the olive skin, the dark hair.
    â€œTalk about a Greek god,” giggled her friend.
    â€œYou think? He’s tall and all that… but not really my type…”
    â€œYes, because you prefer skinny struggling artists.”
    They both laughed.
    I bit into the samosa—the shell came away in my hands, loosening the soft potato and peas filling. It steamed gently on the paper plate, while the tamarind sauce pooled darkly around the edges.
    â€œYou should invite him to a house party…” said Titania. “I’m sure someone’s planning one soon.”
    Her friend lifted a dainty eyebrow. “Why not? I don’t think he teaches here. Maybe we can get him drunk… although, I’m not sure he’d come.”
    â€œWe could ask Adheer to invite him.”
    â€œAdheer?”
    â€œThey spend a lot of time together… don’t you think?”
    â€œWhat are you saying?” laughed her friend.
    â€œDon’t be an idiot, Lari, you know what I mean.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” She sounded genuinely confused.
    â€œI think they’re… you know…” She must have mouthed the word for I couldn’t hear her. What I did catch was Lari’s cry of repulsion.
    â€œThat’s disgusting… you really think so? It’s so gross .”
    Titania sipped her drink, and stayed silent.
    What I observed, over the weeks, was that Nicholas didn’t pay special attention to anyone in particular. He was indiscriminately charming. When in the mood. Or resolutely cool. He remembered people’s names, or at least had a way of requesting them to remind him so they weren’t slighted. He appeared attentive, if not deeply interested. Mostly, I think, he enjoyed the attention. And tired of it just as easily.
    People have fickle memories though. And often they mainly remember the agreeable, latching on to the winsome details. A wave across the lawn. At the café, a round of tea at his insistence and expense. A recommended book. His smile. Rare, precious gesture—that in an instant swept you into his closest, most secret circle.
    Yet the lines were drawn long before we imagined, who would be allowed in, how much, how far, always keeping, inevitably, to himself. Intact. In his own hands, he was porcelain.
    I see that now.
    If he spent more time with Adheer, it was because Adheer sought him out more persistently, and successfully, than all the others. Hurrying after him in the corridors, waiting, nonchalantly, by the gates, reading on the lawns. Accompanying him to university