Page 7 of Not Safe for Work
Rajat continued, glancing at me occasionally to include me in the conversation. ‘He owes me a game of golf. You know how it is, the course is where the real business happens.’
I nodded, even though I had no idea how it was. I’d never been to a golf course in my life. How did they manage to fit one in this cramped city anyway?
‘Well, I think you two will get along well,’ Rajat said, scribbling something on a paper that Gayatri handed him. ‘You both went to NYU, after all.’
My stomach dropped.
Neil turned to me, genuine interest flickering in his gaze. ‘Oh no way!’
I nodded politely at him.
‘When did you graduate?’
I felt my brain buffering. ‘Uh …’ I began, quickly trying to do the math. ‘... 2019?’
‘That’s crazy! I’m from the 2018 batch. What was your major?’ he asked, leaning forward.
I swallowed, trying not to panic. A scene from three and a half years ago flashed in my mind. I had been sitting across from Rajat in this very room, trying my best to answer his rapid-fire questions. But I knew I was coming up short. Instead of testing my design skills and knowledge, he drilled me on where I lived, what my father did and, of course, my alma mater. I could feel the interview slipping away from me. So, in a desperate attempt to impress him, I had done what I had to do. I had lied.
Just a tiny white lie.
‘Visual communication,’ I finally managed.
His face lit up. ‘A bunch of my friends studied visual com! Do you remember a guy named Kenzo? Same batch as you.’
‘Oh, uh …’ I forced a breezy smile, reaching for a glass of water. ‘Feels like a lifetime ago.’
Neil continued to look at me expectantly, waiting for my memory to kick in.
But I stayed mum.
Because the truth was, I had no clue who Kenzo was. How would I, when I had never set foot on that campus?
three
Liar Liar Pants on Fire
Neiland I had been sitting beside each other for the last forty minutes. Despite the silence between us, my mind refused to quieten.
Why did he keep glancing my way? Was he onto me? What had I said to give it away?My eyes stayed glued to my screen, but the words and images blurred together. I clicked through random tabs, pretending to work, as if I wasn’t falling apart inside.
I had gotten away with this lie for over three years. Three whole years. I just had to get through one internship cycle without this guy connecting the dots.
There was another stretch of silence. Another flick of his gaze. And then, casually, he spoke. ‘You know, it’s kinda crazy we never ran into each other at NYU.’
My fingers froze over the trackpad for a millisecond before I forced them to keep moving. ‘Well, it’s a big university. Besides, we were in different batches and courses.’
You’re overexplaining. Stop. Play it cool.
‘Yeah, but still. I might’ve remembered an Indian girl’s face.’ He clicked his pen against the desk. ‘Where did you usually hang out?’
I racked my brain for an answer, but came up short. I knew nothing about NYU’s campus. I had never even been to New York. Whatever I knew about the city, I’d learnt fromF.R.I.E.N.D.S.And I was pretty sure Central Perk was a fictional coffee house. So, if he wanted to quiz me on Joey’s best lines, I’d ace it. Otherwise, I was screwed.
But this wasn’t just going to go away. I needed to give him something—anything—to get him off my back. ‘I wasn’t very social. Spent most of my time at some of the cafés near campus,’ I managed to say, forcing myself to meet his eye.
Yes, cafés. Safe.
‘Oh, yeah? Which ones?’ he asked.
