I grab the phone from Ace. “Baba is FaceTiming me. I need you to pretend you’re with me. I’m going to put you on speaker, okay?”
“Oh shit,” Samir says in surprise. “Yeah, yeah. You got it, bro.”
I call my dad back on FaceTime audio. I’m not even going to attempt video, knowing that’ll end in my untimely death. I have no excuse for being in some random truck at 8:00 p.m.
“Myra?” my dad asks. He’s alone for once, which is a minor relief. “Why didn’t you answer before? And why audio?”
“Baba! Sorry about that. I don’t have a lot of charge right now,” I say, my eyes flicking to Ace. He’s watching me quietly, teeth pressed against his bottom lip. “Video will drain the battery.”
“Why don’t you plug it in?” Baba asks. “Are you outside?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. “Yes. Samir and I went to Duane Reade because we ran out of...tape.”
“Yeah!” Samir chimes in. “Myra Apu and I checked the entire house, but we couldn’t find any. We asked Dadu, but she doesn’t know. We didn’t want to bother you guys, so we just went to the store instead.”
There’s a moment of heavy silence. “Samir, why do you sound so strange?”
My eyes widen and I look at Ace hopelessly, but Samir immediately starts coughing over the phone. “I think I’m getting a little sick. Don’t worry, I’ll ask Dadu to make me some chai.”
“Oh,” my dad says and his tone relaxes. “I won’t keep you long then. I just wanted to check in to see how things were.”
“Things are fine,” I say, forcing my voice to stay even. “I should go before my phone dies, though.”
Baba hums in agreement. “Good night, Myra. Good night, Samir. I hope you find the tape soon.”
“Good night,” we both say at once, and I hang up.
We all sit there, breathing in tandem. I hold my head in my hands. The world is spinning out of control.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
“Oh my God,” I say aloud. “Oh my God.”
“Myra Apu? Are you okay?” Samir asks, a note of concern in his voice.
My vision blurs until Ace reaches out, his fingers wrapping tightly around my wrist. The motion grounds me enough to exhale harshly. I remind myself to breathe. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.
I look up. Ace is staring at me with wide eyes, and I feel the strange urge to cry.
“We’re good. Thank you, Samir,” I say, my voice choked.
“Jesus Christ,” my brother says on the other end, his exhaustion palpable. “I think I actually need some chai.”
“I’ll make you some when I get home,” I promise, unable to look away from Ace. His grip loosens on my wrist and his fingers slip away, leaving my hand suspended between us. “Thank you again.”
“It’s what we do, right?” Samir says, and there’s something regretful in his voice. A call to his last promise. “I’ve got your back.”
Despite the tension still stringing my body, I manage a quiet laugh. “I’ve got your back, too.”
Samir hangs up, leaving me and Ace alone. Only our quiet breathing exists in the silence.
“Sorry about that,” I say, my cheeks burning with unspoken shame. I lower my hand slowly.
Ace swallows, throat shifting with the movement. “No saying sorry, remember?”
I look down, my limbs heavy with awareness. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”
He shakes his head and cups my cheek. “Yes, it is, Karina. I want you with all your lines.”
A tremor runs through me. “All my lines?”
Ace nods, resting his forehead against mine. “All your lines.”
“There are so many,” I whisper and my voice cracks. “You should give up now.”
He smiles faintly. “That doesn’t change anything. I want you, Karina Ahmed. That means lines and all.”
He leans in, and I meet him halfway, our lips brushing together in a soft kiss.
A tear slips down my face without permission and he pulls back, stroking a careful thumb against my cheek. “I’m not giving up on us unless you are.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to give up on us. I choose this. I choose us. I choose you.”
“Then I’m here to stay,” he says, and he leans in again, pressing a gentle kiss below my eye. “Come out back with me?”
I nod and follow him to the truck bed again, my chest flooded with warm, dizzying emotions.
Ace whispers luminous stories to me for another hour before we finally call it a night and he drives me home.
The truck idles in front of my driveway, and I unbuckle my seatbelt. I turn to find Ace watching me. “Thank you. For the date and the ride. And everything else.” My pulse is racing for no discernible reason. Or maybe it’s because I can still feel the ghost of Ace’s lips against my skin, still hear the echo of his words in my head.
“And you thought the truck would kill you,” Ace says, eyes dancing in the pale moonlight spilling through the window.
“No,” I say quietly. “I thought you would.” I still do.
Ace blinks as if he didn’t expect that answer. I offer him a small smile and climb out of the truck.
I shut the door behind me, then hesitate. I turn back around and knock on the window. Ace peers at me in confusion and I tap again insistently.
He leans over the seat and manually winds the window down. I give him a pointed look but refrain from making a comment about how old the truck is. “Did you forget something?”
I shake my head. “I want you with all your lines, too,” I say and duck forward to press a quick kiss to Ace’s cheek.
In front of me, Ace’s mouth snaps shut. I can’t help but smile at his gobsmacked expression before I turn around and walk to my front door.
His truck continues to idle until I unlock the door and slip inside. Outside, the engine rumbles, and I watch from the window as he disappears down the street.
“Myra,” Dadu says, making me jump twenty feet in the air. I turn around with a hand clutching my heart.
“Dadu,” I say. A small wave of panic pushes at my chest. Did she see me kiss Ace’s cheek? She doesn’t look mad, which is a good sign.
She observes me for a moment before smiling faintly. “Tell Alistair it is 10:02 p.m. He promised me 10:00 p.m. If he does this next time, I might have to make your curfew 9:58 p.m. instead.”
I laugh hoarsely. “Okay, Dadu. I will.”
41
T-MINUS 7 DAYS
A knock on my bedroom door startles me from my failed attempt at yoga, and I hit my arm against the side of my desk.
I’ve moved on to the next coping method. Candles have proven useful, but I want to have as many options as possible.
Hence why I’m trying yoga to help with my anxiety. Not that it’s going well.
“Yo, Myra Apu?” Samir says, peeking his head in the door. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yeah, sure.” I rub the side of my arm. “What’s up?”
“I need your help,” he says.
I falter and look at him. What could Samir possibly need my help with? “With...?”
Samir lets himself in and shuts the door behind him before sitting at my desk. He levels me with an extremely serious expression. “It’s top secret. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Who am I going to tell?” I ask, exasperated. In the days since his apology, we’ve returned to normal in the way only siblings can after a huge fight. Last night, his help in hiding my date from our parents only proved it further.
“No one can know,” Samir emphasizes.
I roll my eyes. My brother is the world’s strangest specimen. “Just spit it out.”
Samir lets out a deep sigh. “I need to know more about Leah.”
&n
bsp; “About who?”
“Leah Jimenez,” Samir says, his tone despairing. In the back of my head, the girl from the bleachers appears. “She goes to Miss Cannon’s after-school tutoring. She said you helped her with Fahrenheit 451.”
I blink at him several times. “Okay, and...?”
“What do you mean?” Samir runs a hand through his hair. “Bro, come on, just tell me what’s up. What’s she like? What’s she into?”
“I’m not your bro,” I say, raising my brows. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t really know her. She was just a random freshman I helped.”
Samir makes a horrible sound like he’s dying. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he’s secretly related to Cora. “Myra.”
I narrow my eyes at him for withholding the honorific for older sister, Apu. “Don’t call me Myra.”
“Oh my God, I can’t call you bro, I can’t call you Myra. What do you want from me?”
I throw a wad of paper at him. “Get out of my room if you’re going to be a clown.”
“No, no, don’t kick me out.” He holds his hands out in a pleading gesture. “Please, come on. Just give me something to work with. I really like her.”
“How can you like her if you don’t know anything about her?” I ask, shaking my head.
“Well, I’m trying!”
I huff a laugh. Trust boys to do the bare minimum and chalk it up to effort. “Try a little harder. Maybe talk to her yourself?”
“If you asked me for help with Ace a few weeks ago—” Samir starts and I throw another piece of paper at him. “What? There’s no one else here. Come on, I just covered for you yesterday! Are we going to pretend you’re not attempting to date some random white guy?”
“Leah isn’t Bangladeshi or Muslim,” I say pointedly. “That’s two facts right there. Did that help?”
Samir groans again. “I know that already. But if you can do it, maybe...”
The sentence stops me in my tracks, and I stare at my brother imploringly. Lionheart, whispers a treacherous voice in the back of my head.
“Come on, Myra Apu. Please?” Samir says.
I sigh. “If I tell you something about her, can we both return to peace and quiet?”
“Obviously. You think I want to be in your room? It smells disgusting in here.”
I gape at him. “It smells like cinnamon.”
Samir wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, and lavender and vanilla and peppermint. None of that shit goes well together. Stick to one.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Just tell me the thing.”
“You are the most annoying human ever,” I say, but the words hold little heat. “All right, fine. Her favorite book is Jane Eyre.”
My brother squints. “Her favorite book? Really?”
I sigh and point at the door. “Out. Out, out, out.”
“No, wait,” Samir says, raising his hands placatingly. “That’s cool. Do you have a copy?”
I do, somewhere around here, but God knows what condition Samir will return it in. “Nope.”
Samir worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Where can I get one?”
I almost tell him to Google the closest bookstore, but then I take note of how earnest his expression is.
I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go a little above and beyond to help him. Ace and I planned to meet at the aquarium today anyway, and it isn’t that far off from where I have in mind. “I might know a place...”
* * *
Two Stories is as magical as last time. I catch sight of Genesis near the register, but she’s with a customer this time.
“Knock yourself out,” I say to Samir, my own eyes snagging on the young adult shelves.
“What? I don’t know where anything is.” Samir gives me an aghast look. “How am I supposed to find Jane Eyre?”
I shrug. “Beats me.”
“What kind of sister are you?”
“The kind of sister who came to a bookstore with you when I could’ve easily sat at home and minded my business,” I say, poking his shoulder.
Samir groans. “You’re the worst,” he says, before his eyes fall on Genesis. “She looks like she works here. Let’s ask her.”
“She’s clearly busy,” I say.
“I’m a paying customer, too. She can make herself available,” Samir says and walks off before I can protest what an entitled mindset that is.
Ugh.
I linger behind him, regretting all the decisions in my life that led me here. When he reaches her, Samir says, “Hey, can you tell me where to find Jane Eyre? My sister won’t help me.”
I glare at him. Behind Genesis, the other customer wanders off, so at least there’s one less witness for when I inevitably murder my brother.
Genesis turns and her expression brightens when she sees me. “Oh my God, hi, Karina! Is Ace with you?”
I shake my head. If only. “Not this time. I’m here to help my annoying little brother find a book.”
“Forget about her,” Samir says, waving me off. “I am literally begging for your help to find Jane Eyre. Dude, please.”
Genesis raises her eyebrows. “Begging me? Well, I guess I’d better help then.” She looks at me and adds, “Come by with Ace next time. I miss that little punk.”
I don’t have a chance to reply before she whisks Samir away, leaving me alone. It’s not like I mind, anyway.
The young adult section is empty when I get there, so I have the freedom to pick through titles without worrying I’m taking up space. As I run my fingers along the bindings, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I take it out to see a text from my cousin Fatima.
hey sis!! I saw your last post on IG and I just wanted to check in... still just friends??
My last post on Instagram was Ace and me holding hands on top of his piano. I don’t see any way I can lie myself out of that.
With a sigh, I reply: a little more than friends...
Fatima’s reply is immediate. not to sound pessimistic but is this rlly the move, myra???
I wince. it’ll be okay but thank you for checking in!!! I hope things are going well w/ you! always rooting for you
Fatima’s response is slower this time, but when it comes, it settles in my chest heavily. I’m always rooting for you too!!! I just don’t know how long you can make this work I’m sorryyyy.
I don’t have anything to say to that. I have no idea how long I can make this work, either. I want it to last as long as possible, but I know as we keep moving forward, the riskier this becomes. If we’re together years from now, I will have to decide whether Ace is worth risking my family’s wrath. It’s inevitable.
And even though I’m terrified of that day, it’s not enough for me to give up on what we have together now.
For now, I’m willing to give this my all.
I want to believe I’m going to win in the end.
* * *
Samir and I part ways after he buys Jane Eyre and then chips in to buy me the young adult book I wanted, too. Maybe I can forgive him for being a nuisance.
I meet Ace at the aquarium and the entire time we’re in line for tickets, he playfully grumbles about how the zoo would be a better date.
His silly complaints do make me feel oddly better. I try not to think too much on why that is.
“Zoos smell,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “And these animals are in glass tanks so they can’t try to kill us.”
He sighs dramatically before resting his palm against my neck, a bright grin on his face. “I’ll stop complaining for a kiss.”
I shake my head at him. It feels like I’m in some ridiculous movie. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. “You’re terrible,” I say but stretch onto my tiptoes to kiss him anyway. He tastes like mint chocolate ice cream and peppermint ChapStick, both of which are quickly becoming some of my favorite
flavors.
When I pull away, there’s a warmth spreading through my chest, a small fire that roars with the heat of a million shooting stars. “Terrible,” I repeat and run away from him, toward the dolphin exhibit.
He laughs behind me. “Terribly infatuated with you, yes.”
We’re wandering aimlessly when I hear a familiar voice. “Can you stop being an asshole for two seconds?”
I turn around, looking for Cora, and come to an abrupt stop when I see her next to someone equally familiar.
“Is that your brother?” I ask incredulously.
“What?” Ace turns around, following my gaze. “What?”
“You read too much into everything,” Xander says to Cora dismissively. There’s a horde of students behind them, some I know, some I don’t. It must be the student council.
Now that I think back on it, Cora did send a Snapchat streak this morning that said: dealing with the white devil today,,, but I hadn’t given it much thought. It makes sense now.
“It’s classist to insist every member of student council has to pay an entry fee for a mandated trip during spring break,” Cora says darkly. “I know you’re a trust fund baby that’s never worked a day in his life, but some people aren’t that privileged.”
I glance at Ace for his reaction, but in the face of Cora’s bluntness about his socioeconomic status, he looks amazed. “I think Cora is my new best friend.”
I snort. “Get in line, buddy.”
Cora looks up at the sound of my voice and a smile breaks across her face, wiping away any lingering irritation. “Karina!”
She runs toward me and I open my arms, accepting her hug. She squeezes me tightly before pulling back, glancing at Ace. “Your brother is the worst.”
“I know,” Ace says, grinning.
Cora blinks in shock. “Are you...smiling at me?”
I steady her, trying not to laugh at her dismay. “It’s a rare sight, I know.”
Seconds later, Xander comes to stand beside Cora, his eyes flicking between me and his brother. Ace’s smile has vanished, replaced by an indifferent expression.
Counting Down with You Page 27
