As they put the world to rights over a brewing Team Deathmatch raging in the Southern Afghan, they let the day wash over them and relaxed into the two-bucket seats in front of Aaron’s bed. It was raining outside; it always was around there, and from the bedroom window, which looked out across the park, the drizzle blew left and right miserably. He lived with his Nana in the flats above a small retail block at the other side of a sleepy bedroom village somewhere on the edge of Manchester and he was just another typical fifteen year old. They both were. They were what you’d expect from two teenagers going through the perilous life of high school; good looking, clear eyed with easy smiles. They had hair moulded into styles and they cared a bit too much, taking a bit too long in a morning, with their looks. They wore labels; Lacoste and Fred Perry, Lyle and Scott and Ellesse, Ralph Lauren and Hugo Boss and they thought they understood life and how it worked. They were the perfect example. I said to myself that some day i could get lucky. I dint have any sexual thoughts towards amla but all that i wanted was to sit by her side, admire her, look deep inside her beautiful eyes and enjoy her company. I needed to know amla better. Soon we unloaded all the material and as we finished placing the furniture in its appropriate location, i nodded bye and soon left. Days, weeks and a few months passed on, we kept meeting each other and amla kept seeing me peeping at her through different corners of my bedroom window. Sometimes i had decided that this is final and amla is sure going to complain about me giving her improper looks, but no she never did. Prem in the mean time kept traveling in and out of bangalore and every time he stayed in town for a week or so he invited me for a drink and this is what i really enjoyed. Amla even though she only had a little wine, often gave us company sitting with us and joining us in our casual talks. I secretly craved for amla to join us for i.
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