Rules [Part I]

The last time Dee and Jane had met, things between them were left kind of incomplete, if you will. That one summer evening in Bandstand had been filled with spurts of honest, passionate words, comfortable silences and moments which had left Dee torn between two choices; one more tempting than the other. She had come dangerously close to breaking the rule she had set for herself: never sleep with someone you’re meeting for the first time when you know you won’t be able to think of it as just a one night stand. She had almost taken Jane back to her hotel room before that annoying side of her brain kicked in and took control of her. The side that broke situations down into tiny pieces, analyzed decisions to bits and shredded passion-filled moments into seconds of nothingness.

It all began on the web that spans the world. Just like any modern-day story about a relationship built on the unsaid possibility of that something more often does. They met online, Twitter bridging the yawning gap between US and India. Occasional tweets directed at each other became direct messages. Direct messages turned into instant messages. Drab chat windows gave way to stimulating video chats and phone calls. The chemistry between them had steadily built online. A chemistry you could almost hear crackling down the phone lines and internet cables. But neither of them knew how it would be if and when they ever met. Both were acutely aware of the fact that it might just not be there when they were standing face to face. And when meet they finally did, awkwardness had shown up but it had also died a quick death. Their hands had accidentally brushed against each other a couple of times but it was enough to let them know that the chemistry existed offline as well. Soon, their fingers had sought to intentionally make their presence felt in whatever little ways a space that was privy to the wandering eyes of strangers would allow them to.

That evening at Bandstand, as the minutes morphed into hours, Dee has wanted to kiss Jane with an intensity that surprised her. Jane, not one to mince words, had looked right into her eyes and said aloud what Dee had only been thinking about. Jane had tried to take on the role of reason, insisting that Dee would soon go back to the US and therefore they should see how they worked together physically. That way, if it felt right, it might just tide them over the distance and time that would keep them apart. But they didn’t and it had been her decision. And today, after more than a year, they were sitting side by side in the back seat of Dee’s car. Jane was on a mini-backpacking trip across the US and had decided to visit. And along with her came the memory of all the words, the feelings and the unsatisfied urge to feel Jane’s skin beneath her fingertips.

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Lady Jughead lives and writes in the city she loves and hates, Bombay. Without meaning to and harbouring mixed feelings about it (You’ll see the irony in just a bit), she’s forever wandering in the murkiness that exists between straight and gay, clear and clueless, butch and femme, cute and hot, and genius and insane. All of which leave her with a question that often occupies a significant portion of her cognitive capacity – is she Just Perfect or is she falling fast into the deep chasm of obscurity called Just Average?
Lady Jughead

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