"Do you like him, Akhila?" Nikhil sat down next to her on the bench, interrupting her train of thought.

"Like whom? It might escape your attention, but we know way too many guys." She smiled, getting over the surprise of seeing her best friend appear out of nowhere.

He nodded at the ground she had been looking at intently.

"That guy who is batting. You know, the boy you always seem to be watching? Like yesterday, when he was presenting his project on Skill Development." He threw in a smirk and waggled his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully.

"I didn't even know it is the same guy. I don't know his name either. I was impressed by the way he spoke yesterday, and I am watching this match because I have nothing else to do, and cricket is fun." She shrugged casually, her eyes trailing back to the ground.

"The presentation was in Hindi, Akhila. You suck at that language. Plus, it wasn't even your class, you were supposed to be in the English HOD's cabin about some debate. Luckily, I happened to be in that classroom, and got to discover your latest crush." He snickered softly, looking at her.

She didn't even turn a little pink.

"Ridiculous. I am Akhila Sampath. I don't get crushes. I had merely paused to admire the confidence and fluency of that guy. As the president of the Linguistic Club, I have to be aware of good speakers." Her hand moved swiftly and smacked him upside the head before he could blink.

"You can tell me any excuse you think of, sweetheart, but Nikhil Holmes will crack this case." He straightened his nonexistent tie in a pantomime of professionalism.

"Nikhil, you aren't the next Sherlock Holmes. You can't even find your own notebooks half the time. Now let's go get ice-cream. This match got boring." She pushed the mane of silky, black hair off her face, getting up.

The fair, brown-haired teenager looked at her with twinkling eyes.

"Is it because Mr. Perfect just got caught out?" He teased, running away. Startled, Akhila chased after him, screaming threats and bloody murder.

"So? Do you like Bharat? You know, the presentation guy? The batsman?" Nikhil asked again ten minutes later, sitting across Akhila, who gobbled down a bowl of chocolate ice-cream without a care.

She looked up, choking.

"Yikes! No! What are you talking about?" She gasped through her coughs. "Ice-cream and lungs don't mix well, for future reference."

Laughing, Nikhil got up to buy a bottle of water for her.

Starting at his back, Akhila sighed. No, she didn't like Bharat. She didn't know anything about him. She didn't know that he lived three houses away from her. She didn't know that he played guitar and played chess with his grandpa every Sunday. She didn't know that he wrote short stories on tissues, and collected them in a glass jar. She didn't know he was afraid of heights, or that he loved his sister to bits. She didn't know anything.

At least, that is what she told herself, even as she smiled at her best friend.

Crushes were a complication, but love was worse, and Akhila was smarter. So she lied.

A/n:
Not a genre I usually go for, but why not give it a shot, right? Love you people for reading all this.
Is there any type of story you want me to write? A genre, a title, a plot line? Tell me, and I will dedicate that story to you! The ideas come far and few.
Toodles, my lovelies!