Dandelions

Meet me at 9, he had said. 10, she had argued; I have to get ready, and you know that it takes time. He smiled, shaking his head a little, but gave in. 10 it is then, he surrendered. We'll meet where we first met.
Trina didn't really have a good night's sleep, worried and excited as she was about the day ahead of her. It was a special day – the first day of Falgun. But what was really special was that Amit had wanted to meet her specifically on the first morning of spring. They hadn't been friends for very long now; three months maybe? But it didn't take Trina more than their third meeting to realise that she had fallen for this boy. No, 'man', Trina corrected herself.
Amit was absolutely charming; so culturally rich and traditionally down-to-earth. The way he carried himself around – messy hair, unshaved-for-a-few-days beard, and next to no regard for his own clothing – had initially brought the word 'aloof' to her mind. And then she'd gotten to know him, and fell in love with his do-good personality. He read Gitanjali on a regular basis, much to her surprise, and was taking part in a play based on Tagore's work. He wasn't the lead, but it didn't matter to Trina. She already had feelings for Amit, deeper than she knew.
And today would be a special day; her special day. So she woke up in her dorm room earlier than necessary to secure the first place in the line for a shower. She donned a yellowish-orange jamdani sari with a red hem. She fiddled with her hair for a while, but eventually decided to let it be. Carefully applying a little kajol, positioning a round red tip between her symmetrical eyebrows, and putting on a matching, alternating red-and-yellow set of churi, Trina set out to meet Amit, with her roommate Pinky flashing her a smirk with a wink.
Amit was sitting under the tree where they had met three months ago, pretty much by accident. That evening, he had a dark green shawl loosely wrapped around him. Today, he was absent-mindedly staring at the ground, a coy smile playing on his lips. His unkempt hair and equally unkempt beard went quite well with his yellow panjabi and blue denim pants. A bouquet of yellow dandelions lay at his left. I like those the most, she had once told him, long ago. Because they're wild, free. And they're hard to find.
Trina waited a few minutes, staring at the breathtaking, handsome man. She tried to stay calm, so that she didn't make a complete fool out of herself in front of him. When she approached, Amit snapped out of his reverie and stood up, his face lighting up with a genuinely warm smile. He handed the bouquet over to Trina without a word. She noticed a small piece of folded paper amidst the ever-ready-to-be-blown-off petals of the yellow flowers. Curiosity tugged her heart. She threw a questioning glance at Amit and caught him staring at her with naked adulation. He gave her a small nod, as if urging her to go on. With her heart throbbing fierily near her throat, Trina extracted the paper and opened it.
It was a note. Five words were written in Amit's barely legible script: the first was her name, the last was his, and the three in between were her paradise.