Counting Down with You

by Tashie Bhuiyan

  They’ve both been around my parents enough to know how strict they are. Every time Nandini and Cora are over, my parents grill them about their future prospects and their grades and just anything and everything that no high schooler ever wants to talk about.

  I’ve been to my friends’ houses only a handful of times. Nandini’s parents are chill and mostly leave us alone when we’re over—though, that might be because she has older sisters who have already taken the brunt of their expectations. Cora’s parents are a dream come true, always accepting us with open and welcoming arms, constantly checking in and offering anything we need.

  Being around their parents explains their personalities. Cora is loud and bright with unconditional love. Nandini is calm and no-nonsense with everlasting support. Both of them are the best friends I could ask for, but even when they get it, they still don’t get it. I don’t expect them to.

  “Her parents aren’t going to find out,” Cora says, rolling her eyes as she stabs another piece of lettuce. “Who’s going to tell them? You? Me? Karina? Ace himself?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” I mutter.

  When someone takes the seat beside me, I don’t have to turn my head to know it’s Ace, because both Nandini and Cora fall silent.

  “What now?” I ask, sitting up straight to look at him. My heart is flipping uncertainly, but I manage to keep my expression mild.

  Ace’s countenance is cooler than I’m used to, but it’s not entirely standoffish. “Nothing. I just wanted to sit with you.”

  “You...wanted to sit with me.” This nightmare never ends. I’m going to die. Death by Ace being... Ace.

  He turns to my friends. “Nandini Kaur and Cora Zhang-Agreste, right?”

  They nod, eyes wide.

  Ace hums and unwraps a lollipop, offering it to me. “Want one?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I—you know what. Sit wherever you want.”

  I turn my attention back to the girls, ignoring Ace’s presence at my side. If I stare at him for another minute, I’m going to keel over. He seems more than content with that, plugging in his earphones and leaning his head against his hand so he can stare at me quietly.

  “Let’s move on,” I say, wiping my sweaty palms against my jeans.

  Nandini squints at me. “Are we all mass hallucinating?”

  “I ask myself that every day,” I say. “We should’ve known the world was coming to an end when a Cheeto was elected president. No offense to Cheetos.”

  Cora’s eyebrows furrow as she watches Ace watch me. It’s incredibly convoluted. I’m trying not to think about it. “Can he hear us?”

  “Probably,” I say, offering Ace a glance. He doesn’t show any visible reaction, but his foot hooks around mine underneath the table, making me pinch his leg in surprise.

  Nandini ignores Ace’s obnoxious grin, her eyes steady on mine. “Anyway, I was thinking we could all go see the new Marvel movie since your parents are out of the country. Maybe during spring break next week?”

  I smile, gratitude blooming in my chest. “Sure. Should we catch the first show so it’s half off?”

  Nandini nods. “That’s what I was thinking, too. And we’ll have my employee discount, so it’ll be even cheaper.”

  “Sounds great to me,” I say, pushing Ace’s hand away when he starts poking my rib cage. My entire body feels on edge, prickling with awareness of his warm gaze.

  Going to the movies. Right. Usually, I ask Samir to cover for me when I sneak out with my friends, but since my parents are out of town, it’s a nonissue. “What do you think, Cora? Are you down?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t get over the fact that your...boyfriend is sitting with us,” Cora says, still staring at Ace. “This is so weird.”

  I wave a hand in front of Cora’s face. “He’s just like anyone else. Pretend he’s a stranger.” I wish I could take my own advice.

  Cora mutters something unintelligible under her breath. Then, “Maybe you should invite your boyfriend to come with us, Karina.”

  “Cora,” Nandini hisses, slapping her arm. “It’s a girl’s trip.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  Ace is smirking now. It’s barely there, just a wry twist to his lips, but I see it all the same. “Stop being an asshole,” I say to both Cora and Ace.

  Cora snorts and squeezes my hand. “I love you, K.”

  I sigh, lacing our fingers together. The motion is grounding enough to calm my heart. “And I love you.”

  When I glance to the side, Ace is still watching me. As soon as our eyes meet, he playfully mouths, I love you, too.

  God, he’s a dumbass.

  A dumbass I’m growing impossibly fond of.

  When he continues to stare at me with mirth lining his features, I reach forward to flick his forehead. “Please do me a favor and take a long walk off a short pier.”

  “With you by my side? Without hesitation. I’d happily sink to the bottom of a lake with you.”

  Ugh. This entire situation was so much easier when he wasn’t talking.

  “Stop flirting,” Cora says, her eyes bright with amusement.

  I gape at them. “I just told him to die.”

  Nandini looks exasperated. “We’re Gen Z, Karina. That’s how we flirt.”

  “She’s not wrong, Ahmed,” Ace says, surprising all of us. He grins, and both Cora and Nandini look at him like he just grew a second head. “It sounds like you have a crush on me.”

  “If by crush, you mean a growing urge to choke you, then yes.”

  “Choke me, huh?” Ace smirks, reaching forward to wrap a lock of my hair around his finger.

  Blood rushes to my cheeks. “Shut up.”

  Ace chuckles and lets go of my hair, letting it spring back to hit me in the face. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but he leans forward, his lips brushing my forehead, soft and unexpected. I fall silent.

  Ace stands up and leaves before I can scramble together a coherent thought that isn’t just WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

  “Oh my God,” Nandini says.

  I turn toward her, my cheeks heated. I forgot my friends were there.

  Cora isn’t even saying anything, her eyes so wide they look like they’re about to pop out of her head as she stares after Ace’s retreating back.

  “Karina... Karina, what the fuck?” Nandini asks.

  I shake my head. “I.” I can’t think of anything else to say. “Uh.”

  Cora finally turns back to me. “Karina. He has a crush on you.”

  “No,” I say immediately. “He’s being a clown. He needs to keep up his act.”

  “Dude,” Nandini says, her voice high-pitched. “He definitely likes you. Stop acting clueless. I’ve had five different classes with him over the last three years, and he’s never even looked in someone else’s direction like that.”

  I shake my head, but my heart is pounding ridiculously hard in my chest. I know it’s not real, that he’s faking a relationship because of Xander, but my traitorous body apparently didn’t get the memo. “I’m telling you. It’s to keep up the act.”

  “Karina, I have read enough fan fiction to know exactly how this goes,” Nandini says and Cora nods in agreement. “If he doesn’t already have a crush on you, he will. It’s only a matter of time.”

  I groan. “Real life isn’t fan fiction.”

  Nandini gives me a pitying look and turns toward Cora. “When they inevitably end up together, do we get to say ‘I told you so’?”

  “Hell yes,” Cora says, offering Nandini her pinky.

  Nandini hooks their pinkies together without hesitating. Apparently my body isn’t the only traitor at this table. “It’s a pinky swear.”

  I hook my own pinkies together pointedly. “And I swear I’ll tell you b
oth ‘I told you so’ when Ace moves on after we’re done with our study sessions.”

  Cora offers me a wicked grin. “Those are going to be your famous last words, Karina Ahmed.”

  PART 2

  Blaze

  20

  T-MINUS 20 DAYS

  “You know, you’ll lose your little bad-boy reputation if you keep badgering me,” I say as I sit down. “No one is going to think you’re cool and aloof anymore.”

  In the last few periods, I’ve managed to calm down. As lunch came to an end, I saw Xander sitting only a few tables away from us. No wonder Ace was acting so boldly.

  “I didn’t ask for that reputation,” Ace says, putting his feet on the table and crossing them at the ankle. He’s wearing heavy combat boots that are at odds with his designer skinny jeans. “Though I am pretty cool and aloof.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You like mint chocolate ice cream, playing the piano, and space.”

  “But only you know that,” Ace says, taking out a black marker from his jacket and uncapping it. I nearly smack it out of his hands when he starts doodling on the table.

  “Isn’t that destruction of public property?” I say, hoping it will dissuade him, but he only snorts. “Ace, please stop?”

  He looks up at me, his eyes more blue than green today, and his marker falters. “Yeah, okay.”

  I blink. “Really?” That was easier than I thought it would be.

  “Yeah, Ahmed. What are we looking at today?”

  It takes a moment for that to sink in before a smile pulls at my lips. “I was thinking we could take a break—”

  “I’ve been saying that.”

  “—from reading comprehension and focus on poetry.”

  He sighs. “I suppose.”

  I roll my eyes. “Hear me out. Just pretend they’re song lyrics. You love music, right? That’s why I thought poetry might work better for you. We have that poetry project coming up next month, anyway.”

  He hums, looking at me with an inscrutable expression. “You’re something else, Ahmed.”

  I frown. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  “It’s not a bad thing,” Ace says. “You’re thoughtful. I like it.”

  “Oh.” My clothes suddenly feel too hot. Is it possible to blush with your full body? I grab my bag and take out the collections I snagged from my bookshelf so I have something to do with my hands. “I brought some poetry books from home. Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” Ace says, reaching for one. “Can you show me your favorite poem?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I say and grab a translated Bengali poetry collection. I’m flipping through the pages when I realize Ace isn’t holding a poetry book at all. Oh shit. “Hey, wait, Ace—”

  “Did you write these?” Ace asks, gaze straying from the frayed brown journal in his hands to look at me.

  My nose wrinkles and I wring my hands helplessly. I should’ve been more careful when taking my books out, but being around Ace makes me lose my head. “Yeah, but it’s just for school. It’s not anything serious.”

  “Karina, these are...breathtaking,” Ace says, his gaze is filled with some kind of strange awe that feels heavy on my skin. “This poem, ‘Unshakeable’? Is it finished?”

  I know exactly which poem he’s talking about, and it causes my heart to race uncomfortably, until I can hear the staccato beat in my ears. No one was ever supposed to see that. Usually, I write poetry as a response to the world around me. Rarely do I ever put myself on the pages.

  The poem “Unshakable” is the one time I dared to try, and I couldn’t find it in myself to finish.

  somewhere there are birds that fly free

  here, I am caged and can barely breathe

  there is so much to say

  these thoughts never fall from my lips

  I am scared of so goddamn much

  afraid these flames will burn

  my fingers, they hurt from clinging so hard

  I’m lost, I’m bruised, I don’t know what to do

  I never thought I’d give up

  but I’m starting to think I’m going to lose

  it’s dark, it’s light, a hand reaches out

  .........

  “Ace, that’s personal,” I say, voice cracking. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. My heart feels exposed, lying on the pages for Ace to poke and prod at as he pleases. “Can you please give it back?”

  “Hey,” Ace says, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”

  He slides my journal across the table, and I catch it with shaking hands. The irony of the moment isn’t lost on me.

  “I’m sorry,” Ace repeats, reaching across the table and slowly taking one of my hands in his. His rings are cold against my skin, jarring me out of a strange sense of dissonance.

  “No, it’s not your fault,” I say, shaking my head in abrupt, agitated movements. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

  His fingers slowly slide against mine, interlacing them and bringing our hands to the center of the table. The longer we touch, the less I hear my heartbeat in my ears. The less I feel out of breath.

  “Don’t apologize to me,” he says, his voice fierce. I look up and find his strange and beautiful eyes blazing in the sunlight coming from the windows behind me. The fire he keeps insisting I have inside of me is alive in his gaze.

  I exhale deeply and sit back in my seat. “Sorry.”

  “No apologizing,” Ace insists, squeezing my hand. “If you’re feeling up to it, we can keep studying. I still want to see your favorite poem.”

  You’re something else, I think to myself. The thought makes me feel both hot and cold.

  “Okay,” I say. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” Ace says and lets go of my hand. I almost wish he hadn’t.

  There’s change shifting in the air, and I don’t know how I feel about it.

  * * *

  That night, my fingers itch as I sit next to Dadu in the dining room. She’s peeling and cutting vegetables for tomorrow’s meal, and I’m doing my homework while music plays in the background.

  “Dadu?” I tap my pencil anxiously against my textbook. I’ve felt off all day, and even counting backward in my head hasn’t helped. “When you met Dada, what was it like?”

  My grandma fumbles with the potato she’s peeling and stares up at me from beneath her glasses. “When I met Dada?”

  A part of me feels bad for bringing it up. Talking about Dada is a sore topic. I see how deeply she misses him every day, because all of her sarees are white in mourning. One day, when I was visiting her in New Jersey, I came across an entire closet full of colored sarees with a thin layer of dust coating them. I never asked Dadu about them, but it made me horribly sad to know she’d locked away the color in her life.

  “Yeah,” I say, spinning my pencil between my fingers. “What was it like when you first met him?”

  “Myra.” Dadu’s eyebrows pull together. “Your Dada and I had an arranged marriage.”

  It’s probably stupid to compare an arranged marriage to an arranged tutoring situation. No, it’s definitely stupid. But it’s the closest way I can think of to relate to my grandma right now, so I press forward.

  “I know. That’s why I’m asking. You were just thrown into the situation together, right? What was your first impression of him?”

  Dadu hums, setting her potato back down on the cutting board. “He was handsome,” she says, smiling faintly. “I remember I was glad about that. He was very spaṣṭabhāṣī, though. I didn’t expect that.”

  I repeat that word, spaṣṭabhāṣī. It’s not a word I’m familiar with. “What does that mean?”

  My grandma pauses for a long moment, clearly searching for the right way to ex
plain it. “He spoke his mind,” she says finally. “He said what he wanted and didn’t care what other people thought of him. He was a city boy, born and raised, and I was a country girl. It was strange for me to see how bold he was. I admired that in him sometimes, and thought he was a rascal the rest of the time.”

  I laugh in surprise. Near the end of his life, Dada was always serious. It’s strange to hear he wasn’t always like that. “A rascal?”

  Dadu grins, reaching over to run a hand over my hair. “A rascal. He would get us into all sorts of trouble. I thought I would handle it fine because of all of my older brothers, but he was just...different. He treated me differently. I never realized until I met your grandpa, but my brothers were always so careful around me. They treated me like a precious jewel that could break at any moment. Only once I met him did I realize how sheltered I had been to the absurdity of the world around me. It changed me to see the manner in which your grandfather approached things. It made me realize that maybe I wasn’t the person I thought I was. My family believed me to be one way, but I was quickly learning that I was someone else altogether.”

  I’m not the way my family believes me to be, either is on the tip of my tongue. But that’s not a conversation for right now.

  Dadu swallows roughly, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight. “Your grandpa never treated me that way. He always saw me for who I was, even before I saw it myself. His equal. He was free with his thoughts and actions around me. Wild in a lovely and terrifying sort of way. It was so unfamiliar. I didn’t know what to do with him at first.”

  That sounds increasingly familiar. “What did you do?”

  “I calmed him down,” Dadu says, her voice quieter. The words send a chill through me. “And I think he needed that on occasion, the same way I needed his boldness. I was able to ground him in reality.”

  “How did you do that?” I ask, equally hushed.

  Dadu looks away, her gaze somewhere distant. “By loving him.”

  I inhale sharply, not having expected that answer. Dadu looks back at me, her eyes alert again. “Is there a reason you’re asking, Myra?”