Pinky scoffed. “You’re not in elementary school. You can just speak.”
Samir narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t have to be in elementary school to have manners.”
She squared off with him. “Raising your hand isn’t showing manners; it’s showing you’re a mind-controlled robot who’s wholeheartedly bought into systemic obed—”
“Please,” poor Amy implored, clutching her braids in distress. “Please, just go into the room. It’s really fun.” She looked around at the group, her gaze landing on Sweetie, who probably (and rightly) looked the most sympathetic and sane. “I promise you’ll like it.”
Sweetie patted Amy’s shoulder. “I’m sure we will.” Looking around at the others, she added, “Come on, guys. Let’s get going.”
They all filed in dutifully after her, Ash feeling a silly spark of pride that his girlfriend was so on the ball and put-together.
* * *
The small room they entered, which Amy ceremoniously locked behind them, was dim and LED candle–lit, with an old-fashioned writing desk to the right. The pirate ship theme had extended here, too, with a smaller version of the pirate ship from the front of the facility taking up most of the center space in the room. This ship, though, had a cheesy cardboard cutout of a man and a woman in a passionate embrace on the deck. On the far side of the room was another nondescript, and presumably locked, door.
Dimple sighed. “Look at that.” She pointed to the left, where a large treasure chest was nestled on piles of velvet fabric, with cutout felt lips taped all over it. LED candles surrounded it in a heart shape. “This is just so…”
“Vapid,” Pinky finished.
“Yes.” Dimple nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Vapid.”
“Ashish, why don’t you read the letter?” Rishi gestured to the writing desk, which held a white envelope, like Amy had said it would.
“Good idea.” Ash crossed to the desk and picked up the envelope, on which someone had inscribed, in a flowery calligraphy, My Love. The flap of the envelope was sealed with a burgundy-colored wax seal, which he broke to get to the letter inside. The same flowery writing carried over to the letter, and as Ash opened it, the scent of roses wafted out. “Mm. Immersive. Okay, let’s see.… You guys ready?”
Everyone nodded, some with more enthusiasm than others.
Ashish began to read.
“Dear Armand,
“I am distressed by this voyage, as it has taken me so far away from you, my one true love. My tears mingle with the ocean water below me as I stand on the wind-whipped deck day after day, night after night, wondering if you long for me as I do for you. Father wishes to keep us apart, but I know you’ll come for me one day. If you’re reading this letter, it means you’ve almost found me. Our sweet reunion is so close! Can you feel it in the air?
“To get to me, you must search this room for the clues I have so carefully left behind, that you may find your way to me, my love. Please, won’t you hurry? The clock is ticking.
“Yours evermore,
“Guinevere.”
Dimple snorted, and at the same time, she and Rishi both said, “Wow.” Ashish looked up, surprised that they were in agreement on this, but then he saw their expressions—it was clear Dimple thought the letter was a bunch of fake lovey-dovey corporate crap, while Rishi looked like he wanted to sketch a vignette of the two separated lovers, Armand and Guinevere, to immortalize their love forever. Of course he did. Rishi was a classic romantic.
“So that’s our story.” Ashish waved the letter in the air. “We’re all Armand, and we’ve got to get to our beloved Guinevere.”
“How do we want to do this?” Pinky asked, her hands on her hips. “I think we should divide ourselves into two groups: guys versus girls.”
“Why two groups?” Samir frowned.
Pinky turned to him, her chin thrust out, ready for a fight. “You have a better idea?”
“Whoa, kids,” Ash said. “Take it easy.”
“Actually, I do,” Sam retorted, ignoring him. “I think we should divide into three groups, seeing as how the room has clearly been divided into three segments.” He pointed to the pirate ship in the center of the room; the right side of the room, which contained the desk; and the left side of the room, which contained the chest. “I’m betting all three of those have clues we’ll need to solve. If we divide into three groups, each group can work on solving their respective clue.”
Pinky narrowed her eyes, and after a minute, she shrugged. “Yeah, actually, that’s true.” Then, smirking, she added, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
Samir opened his mouth to respond, but Sweetie jumped in. “Speaking of clocks,” she said, taking the letter from Ashish and reading it quickly, “did anyone notice that the last line said ‘The clock is ticking’? I feel like that’s a clue.” She gestured to the large antique-looking clock on the wall.
“And that’s on the desk side of the room, so let’s divide up?” Rishi looked around, and everyone nodded. “Okay, I think it just makes sense for Dimple and me to work together, since we each know how the other thinks. And similarly, Ashish, you’ll be with Sweetie.” He turned slowly to Pinky and Samir. “That leaves… you two. Is that okay?”
Ashish tried to suppress a grin as a range of emotions washed over Samir’s face—happiness (which he quickly squelched), uncertainty, and even a little bit of fear. Pinky’s face, on the other hand, was a mask of annoyance.
“Of course it’s okay,” she responded, even though it must’ve killed her to say it. “It’s not like I’m going to break up one of the happy couples.”
“Sweetie and Ash, why don’t you guys take the desk and the clock, since Sweetie was the one who saw that the clock might be a clue?” As an older (bossy) brother, Rishi took on the role of leader pretty easily. “Pinky and Samir, do you guys want to take the chest? And Dimple and I can do the pirate ship.”
Ash bent deeply at the waist and took Sweetie’s hand, planting a kiss on it. “My dearest Guinevere,” he said in a really terrible British accent. “Come! We shall go hither, to unlock the aforementioned clues!”
Sweetie laughed, grabbed his shirt collar when he straightened up, and planted a kiss on his lips, her mouth soft and firm. “I love you.”
Ashish’s heart trip-hammered in his chest. He’d never get used to her saying that to him. Never ever. He gazed into her hazel eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. “I love you too.”
Pinky made gagging noises. He glared at her over Sweetie’s shoulder, and then the couples all melted away to their respective corners of the moodily lit room to decipher their clues. They had exactly thirty-nine minutes left.
Ashish & Sweetie
The clock that hung on the wall above the writing desk was shaped like a big stopwatch. It had a brassy metal coating, and its large face gave the appearance of being tea-stained. The numbers were all Roman numerals, and a large metal second hand ticked as Ash and Sweetie looked up at it.
She turned to him, smiling. “You’re taller, so I think that means you have to get it down.”
He kissed her on the nose. “Gladly, oh tiny one.” He had to stand on his tiptoes to do it, but Ashish was able to unhook the clock off the wall and bring it down to the surface of the desk.
Sweetie flipped it over. On the back was a clear plastic pocket, and in it was a slip of paper. Her eyes shining, Sweetie reached two fingers in and pinched the paper, bringing it back out and unfolding it.
“There are many lovers whose lives and loves span the centuries and who’ve captivated my heart, dear Armand. But fewer people have had a love affair like the two I’m thinking of. When he said, “You’ll be my _________ always because mine is the true _________,” I nearly cried, so great was my longing for you. Do you know who he was and who he was speaking to? If so, you might just unlock the next clue.”
Sweetie gave the slip of paper to Ashish, her brow furrowed in concentration. “That sounds so familiar. That’s from a bo
ok, right?”
Ash read the clue and set the paper down on the desk, next to the clock that was still ticking steadily away. “It does sound familiar, but no… it’s not a book.” He didn’t read nearly as many romance novels as Sweetie. Or novels, period. “It’s—oh my God. I have it.”
Sweetie looked up at him. “What? Where’s it from?”
Ashish beamed at her. “Do you remember our favorite pastime over winter break?”
Sweetie cocked her head, confused. “Our favorite…” Then understanding rushed onto her face. “You mean…?”
Ash nodded, grinning. “Watching Downton Abbey. You said I couldn’t possibly be serious about you unless I understood your deep and abiding love of the Abbey. I’ll be honest. I considered ripping my eyeballs out just so I’d have an excuse to not watch it, but once we began, I got totally sucked in.”
Sweetie laughed, her eyes crinkling in mirth. “Yeah, you did. I remember wanting to stop and do something else once, and you were like, ‘But what about poor Edith? We can’t just leave her hanging!’ ”
Ashish pretended to look outraged. “Hey, she was a very complex character who got the short end of the stick a lot!”
Sweetie held up her hands. “Sorry, sorry.” Then, glancing back down at the piece of paper, she said, “So… are you saying this quote is from Downton Abbey? But—oh my God! Matthew says that to Mary, doesn’t he?”
Ashish nodded. “Yep. ‘You’ll be my Mary always because mine is the true Mary.’ ” He dabbed his eye with a finger. “Only Matthew truly understood the essence of Mary.”
“What about Henry, though?” Sweetie said, and then she shook her head. “No, we need to stay on task.”
“Right. So, the note says ‘You might just unlock the next clue.…’ So are we looking for a lock? Maybe ‘Mary’ is the password?”
“Or ‘Matthew,’ ” Sweetie agreed as they both began poking around the writing desk. She looked over her shoulder. “Hey,” she said conspiratorially, and Ash leaned in closer. “Do you think Pinky and Sam are okay? Don’t be obvious when you look.”
Ashish itched the back of his neck casually, then stole a glance over his shoulder. Pinky was saying something intensely. (Well, Pinky said everything intensely, but this was different—he could tell.) Samir’s gaze was trained on her, his jaw set.
“They’re always bickering.” Widening his eyes, Ash turned back to Sweetie. “Kind of like my Patel grandparents. But if anyone else criticizes either of them, the other one comes at the criticizer, teeth bared and claws out. It’s scary because my grandma is like a feral cat.”
Sweetie giggled. “That’s kind of sweet, actually.”
“If you say so.” Getting back to the task at hand, Ashish opened the two small drawers on top, but they were empty except for a couple of old-fashioned ink pens.
“Ooh, look at this.” Sweetie pushed against a panel on the bottom half of the desk. It appeared to be a flat wooden board, but when she pressed it, Ashish heard a distinctive click. “I can’t get it to move, though.” Sweetie pushed harder, but the board wouldn’t give.
“Let me see.” Ashish knelt down, put both his hands against the board, and tried to slide it out of the way. That did it; the board swiped soundlessly to the right, revealing a small hidden safe with a keypad. Ash frowned. “But they’re all numbers, not letters. How could we put in either ‘Mary’ or ‘Matthew’?”
Sweetie, kneeling beside him, studied the keypad, also frowning. Except her frown was, like, a thousand times cuter. Ash found himself staring at her profile lovingly, only to realize several seconds had passed and he wasn’t contributing in any way.
Clearing his throat, he turned his attention back to the keypad and sighed. “This is, like, some Bletchley Circle–level crap. How am I, a mere mortal, supposed to decipher it?”
Sweetie looked at him, her eyes wide, and snapped her fingers. “I got it!” Standing, she grabbed the piece of paper with the clue, flipped it over, and using one of the old-fashioned ink pens, began scribbling on the back.
Ashish stood and watched over her shoulder, realizing what she was doing. “Genius!”
Sweetie grinned up at him briefly before returning to her task. “Each letter has a numerical value: M is the thirteenth letter in the alphabet, A is the first, and so on.” While she finished writing up Mary’s name, Ashish did Matthew’s on the back of the letter from Guinevere to Armand.
“Let’s try Mary’s first?” Ash asked. “It’s a lot smaller.”
“Yep.”
They knelt before the keypad again, and Sweetie punched in 13-1-18-25. There was a clicking sound, and the safe opened, swinging quietly outward.
“Yay!” Sweetie kissed Ashish on impulse before reaching into the safe, and his heart melted into a puddle and dribbled down into his shoes. It was probably one of his most favorite things in the world, when Sweetie Nair laid impromptu kisses on him, like it was no big thing. He didn’t think he’d tell her just what a big thing it was to him. “Ooh, look.”
He turned his attention back to Sweetie. Daydreaming about her while she was right there was becoming a bad habit. “Hmm?” he asked, still feeling a little moony.
“It’s a little piece of… something.” She held a small cylindrical plastic piece that had been painted to look like antique brass. A nub on one end of it jutted out, as if it was meant to attach to something else.
They looked around on the desk, but there was nothing else it might connect to. “Maybe it’s part of a bigger puzzle,” Ashish said finally. “Hey, what do you think the other couple teams are up to? I bet none of them are as fast or as good as we are.”
Sweetie laughed and swatted him. “Well, let’s not rub their faces in it.”
Dimple & Rishi
“What I don’t understand is, if Guinevere was taken away on a ship by her father, why would he choose to take her away on a pirate ship?” Dimple poked at the mast on the ship in the center of the room. The deck was lit with four large LED pillar candles spaced equidistantly from each other. The dim light was annoying her even more; she knew it was supposed to be for “ambience,” but all it did was make it hard to accomplish the task at hand.
“Maybe he’s a pirate,” Rishi teased, raising an eyebrow as he checked out the sails of said ship. The ship looked flimsy, and they’d both agreed they wouldn’t climb aboard to check for clues, which made things infinitely tougher. “Ever think of that? Huh? Huh, Stanford girl?”
Dimple rolled her eyes. “Okay, but then why is there a cardboard cutout of presumably the two of them on the deck of the ship?” She gestured to the annoyingly cloying cutout of the two lovers. “The whole point was they weren’t together on the ship, right?”
Rishi smiled. She could tell it was his you’re precious to me because you’re so intense and different from me smile. Honestly, she was a little baffled he was still so in love with her after all these years. Dimple kept waiting for her luck to run out; surely she’d had more than her share. More than most people’s shares, in fact.
“I love you.” Rishi came over and kissed the side of her head, just underlining her point.
“Love you too.” Temporarily mollified, Dimple walked around the ship, sticking her fingers into every nook and cranny she could see in the shadows. “I don’t think this is very fair. Ashish and Sweetie got a letter to kick them off on their clue, whereas we’re just looking for a clue with nothing to go on at all.”
“Yeah, but you’re a Stanford girl.” Rishi grinned as he moved the cardboard-cutout couple to look for any clues that might be trapped under them. “We don’t need a handout like them.”
Dimple snorted as she began to pull up on a pile of rope that was coiled in one corner of the ship. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on giving me a big head.”
“Because you deserve to have a big head. You’re the smartest person I know, and you’re still so humble about it. Like, oh, anyone could go to Stanford and be Jenny Lindt’s protégé!”
<
br /> “That’s just—” Dimple stopped as she realized the other end of the rope, previously hidden in the thick coil, was tied to something. “Hey.” She met Rishi’s eye over the prow, the flickering shadows masking the lower half of his face. “Check this out.”
He hurried to her as she fished the heavy end of the rope over the side of the ship. It was tied to a small book with a ratty fabric cover. “Wow,” Rishi murmured. “It’s like they knew you’d be the one to find it.”
Dimple chuckled at his ability to see omens and prophecies everywhere. “Sure.”
“Think about it.” He was still staring at the old book in wonder. There was no title or author. “You’re a total bibliophile. I mean, I took you to a book bar on our first date, and giving you that old edition of A Wrinkle in Time was, like, what probably sealed the deal, according to you.”
Dimple smiled fondly at Rishi’s absolute certainty that this—her picking up this book in this escape room in Atherton, California—was totally meant to be. It was one of the things she loved most about him. His belief in the mysteries of the universe and the magic of kismet rounded out her absolute worship of logic and science perfectly. “That’s why I’m marrying you, you know,” she said. “So you can continue to enthrall me with the enchantments I miss on a daily basis.”
Rishi flashed the engagement ring she’d given him. She had one on her finger too; they’d each gotten one because Dimple thought it ridiculous that only women needed to wear an engagement ring to show prospective suitors she was “taken.” “That’s the only reason? Because I remember something about ‘I can’t live without you’ being part of it.”
Laughing a little and shaking her head, Dimple untied the book from the rope and flipped it open. “Hey, that’s weird.”
Rishi’s frown matched her own. “Yeah, it is.”
The book was completely blank. There were no words on any of the pages Dimple riffled through. About a quarter of the way through, though, she found something. On top of one of the blank pages was a handwritten message: Dear Armand, it said. Please give this book a second look.
Love at First Fight Page 2
