The Game

She looked at him, standing across her talking to a girl he had met a few minutes ago.
She couldn't understand how someone could get so comfortable with a person they barely knew.She knew him from over three years and still hadn't spoken to him. Sounds unbelievable. But its true.
She had always been in love with him. The way he smiled. The way his eyes twinkled as he spoke about his ten day old puppy. The way the breeze just seemed to make his hair look like a halo. Dark, mysterious and seductive. That God-like frame he called his body, seemed to emanate a power so potent, one would swoon just being near him.
Yet, here he was. Standing ten feet across from her, talking to someone else. She knew that he could sense her entire being following his every move, just like a helpless mouse, enchanted by the seductive swaying of the majestic king cobra. But he pretended not to notice anything. She knew he led her on. But she didn't care. He too was aware of his power over her. But he didn't use it, unless absolutely necessary. It was truly a game of death.
This game was taking a deadly course. One where intense passions might overflow any moment. Him teasing her senses with his mysterious seductive eyes and her pretending not to give in, while having already given up-mind, body and soul.
True, she loved him. But, that didn't cloud her judgement. She maintained a respectable distance from him, while pursuing a stony silence. The only evidence of her raging emotions was the ice cold glare she kept giving every girl who spoke to him.
One would wonder. How did HE find out all this. Doesn't this mean that he too was keeping tabs on her? Did he too find her appealing to his senses? Or was he just a man too skilled in the art of making women fall in love with him?
Questions such as these haunted her all the time. Observing his every move, had made her a mistress at the art of recognising his true intentions.There were times when he made her feel like the queen of his heart. There were times when he completely ignored her, making her feel unwanted. But that was then. This is now. She had learnt not to respond to his wickedly sensuous maneuvers.She had learnt,through love-sick suffering, not to give in to her desires. She had learnt not to acknowledge his victories and her failures.
For, to win the game, one must first PLAY IT RIGHT.


AGNI