Since that day, something had changed. Nothing major. Arga was still Arga. Still annoying. Still answering only when necessary. Still managing to get on my nerves just because of his little smile. But now I knew the reason behind it all. And somehow, knowing that he liked me made every little thing he did feel different. Like when he waited for me outside class. Or when he suddenly texted just to ask whether I'd eaten. Or when he deliberately walked slower so we could head home together. Everything felt like it meant something more.
Monday morning, my phone buzzed.
Arga: Are you here yet?
I replied.
Me: Yep.
Less than a minute later, another message came in.
Arga: Where are you?
Me: Class.
Arga: Come out.
I frowned.
Me: Why?
Arga: Just come out.
I finally left the classroom. Arga was standing at the end of the hallway with two cups of drinks. When he saw me, he held one of them up.
“For you.”
I took it.
“Why?”
“Because I felt like it.”
“Well, that's new.”
“Do I have to have a reason?”
I smiled.
“No.”
We walked side by side. But after only a few steps, Arga suddenly took my bag.
“Hey.”
“It’s heavy.”
“It’s not.”
“I know.”
“Then why’d you take it?”
“Because I felt like it.”
I looked at him.
“‘Because I felt like it’ is your answer to everything now.”
“Am I not allowed?”
“You are.”
Arga smiled.
“Good.”
I lowered my head, hiding my own smile.
So this was what it felt like to be liked by someone. And I was starting to like him too.
That afternoon, we sat in the cafeteria. I was eating when a friend came over.
“Hey, you two have been hanging out a lot lately, huh?”
I immediately choked. Arga, on the other hand, stayed perfectly calm.
“Yeah.”
My friend looked back and forth between us.
“Are you dating?”
I hadn't even had a chance to answer. Arga spoke first.
“Not yet.”
I turned to him.
“Not yet?”
He looked at me.
“You haven't asked me out.”
I almost threw my spoon at him.
“Why do I have to ask you?”
“Who usually does?”
“You!”
My friend immediately burst out laughing.
“Wow, I'll leave you two alone.”
They walked away, still laughing.
I stared at Arga.
“You did that on purpose, didn't you?”
“Did what?”
“Made me look stupid.”
“I was just answering the question.”
“Then why'd you say ‘not yet’?”
Arga leaned back in his chair.
“Because we aren't.”
“And?”
He looked at me.
“Do you want to?”
I fell silent.
“Date me?”
I lowered my head.
“Right now?”
“Why? Are you scared?”
“No.”
“Then?”
I fiddled with the end of my straw.
“I’m embarrassed.”
Arga chuckled.
“That’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“All right then.”
He went back to eating. I stared at him, confused.
“All right then what?”
“I’ll wait until you’re not embarrassed anymore.”
I smiled faintly.
“What if it takes a long time?”
“I’ll wait.”
“What if I never work up the nerve?”
Arga stopped eating. His gaze returned to me.
“Then I’ll be the brave one.”
I went quiet.
“Brave enough to do what?”
He smiled.
“So don’t be surprised.”
That afternoon, as usual, Arga drove me home. But this time, he didn't leave right after I got off. He stayed sitting on his motorcycle.
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then?”
“I want to tell you something.”
I waited.
Arga took a breath.
“From now on, can I call you babe?”
My eyes went wide.
“What?!”
He laughed.
“Why?”
“Don’t!”
“Why?”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“You’ve never even tried it.”
“Just don’t.”
“Okay.”
I nodded in relief. Then he started the motorcycle.
“Babe.”
I instantly froze.
“ARGA!”
He laughed as he rode away. I stood in front of my house, my face burning. And for the first time, I realized— maybe I really wasn't ready to have a boyfriend. But if my boyfriend was Arga… maybe I could learn.