Awkward Conversation #1

A couple of weeks ago I walked into the computer lab at uni to find my flatmate, who is also my fellow student, practically bursting at the seams from the sheer strength of scandalous gossip she was trying to retain.

            “Guess what!” she said excitedly.

            “What?” I demanded.

            “I have some awesome gossip I just HAVE to tell you! Not here, though,” she added, glancing around the crowded computer lab. “It’s really not appropriate.  I’ll tell you later.”

            I glanced at the time. Our computer tutorial wouldn’t finish for another two hours and I honestly didn’t think my curiosity could cope with that long a wait.

            “Outside!” I insisted. “Now!”

            I dragged Flatmate out into the corridor and huddled against the wall. In a hushed voice she very quickly filled me in on the shocking antics of one of our classmates. I gasped and looked appropriately horrified. As we discussed in hurried whispers the possible ramifications of the dreadful event, one of our lecturers walked by.

This wasn’t just one of our lecturers – this was the lecturer. Our favourite lecturer. The lecturer we are both deeply infatuated with, the one we fight over, vying for his attention, even going so far as to draw hearts on his window with lipstick. We’ve even given him a nickname: Jaanface - “Jaan” being a Hindi word meaning “darling” or “my dear”, and “face” because it sounds impressive when used as a suffix.

Jaanface walked up behind Flatmate just as she was dissecting the more gory details of the story.

            “Hey,” he said, obviously realizing he was walking in on an intimate conversation but deciding to interrupt anyway, because he’s amazing at ignoring conventions. (It's one of the reasons why we admire him.) “This sounds interesting.”

I flushed a deep magenta, partly because of the nature of our discussion but mostly because of the befuddlement I typically experience when I’m around someone I’m suffering unrequited love for. Flatmate whirled around and turned just as red, probably for the exact same reasons.

            “Obviously you’re talking about my class, right?” he continued, grinning like a gleeful god.

            We're intelligent females. We could have come up with any number of witty retorts. But we didn't. We giggled. Giggled like pathetic little schoolgirls. Jaanface looked faintly alarmed when we were unable to stop.

            “You are interrupting a very important gossip session,” I choked out at last, accidentally sounding somewhat haughty. Flatmate continued to emit high-pitched cackling noises, which obviously freaked Jaanface out even more.

            “That’s really disappointing,” he said valiantly.

            We giggled even harder, and Jaanface made a hasty retreat down the corridor. Flatmate and I ran back into the computer lab and dissolved into howls of laughter. 

When I grow up and become an adult, I’m going to marry Jaanface.