There's Something About Sweetie

by Sandhya Menon

  The maître d’ pulled up something on her computer, tapped a little bit, and then turned her A+ customer service–smile on Ashish. “Excellent. I do see you here, Mr. Patel. Would you prefer our conservatory or balcony?”

  “Balcony, I think.” Ashish looked at Sweetie, his eyebrows raised. “If that sounds good to you?”

  She managed to nod, though she looked completely overwhelmed. Ashish always forgot what it was like to introduce new people to his world. Pinky, Oliver, and Elijah were so used to the flash that they barely blinked anymore. He smiled and winked at her, hoping to set her at ease.

  “What’s ‘P and T’?” she asked as they wound up the spiral stairs, with the maître d’ leading them.

  “‘Peeps and tweeps.’ It’s code for ‘friends and important media.’ I guess the PR consultant decided it was trendier—and is obviously a Twitter fan.” Ashish chuckled. “Maybe ‘VIP’ is too blasé.”

  Sweetie laughed a little, but the sound was high pitched and nervous.

  They were seated at a small, quiet table in the corner of the balcony, which had only three tables scattered along its huge stone floor; the other two were empty. Their view of the mountains in the distance was stunning enough, but right below them was a shimmering reflecting pool filled with koi and aquatic plants that were completely transfixing. Classical music played from hidden speakers.

  “Koi in a Greek-themed restaurant?” Sweetie asked.

  “This is America, the great melting pot, after all,” Ashish replied.

  After the waitress had taken their drink orders and promised to be back soon, Sweetie turned to Ashish. “This is really nice. Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Sure.” He took a breath. “And, um, thanks for that moment at the temple. It felt good to just sit and be still for a while.”

  The waitress brought their Cokes then and took their orders. After she left, Sweetie said, “You’re welcome. You know … it’s okay to need some time to deal with this.”

  “With what?”

  “Celia,” she said, and he struggled to keep his face wince-free. “The breakup.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been three months,” Ashish said, forcing a smile. “What kind of loser wouldn’t be over someone after three whole months?” He was aware he was sidestepping her question and not being completely honest about his feelings, but what was he supposed to do? Cry into his hands on their first date?

  “You went out with her for twice that long. And it’s not like there’s a time limit on this kind of thing. I mean, not that I speak from experience, but if you really care about someone, it only stands to reason that it’ll take a long time to feel okay again.” She took a sip of her Coke and looked at him above her frosted glass.

  Ashish sighed. “I guess. I can’t wait to just get over her, though. Like, I kind of don’t know who I even am right now. Samir was right that night at Roast Me—I’m not doing so well with basketball or girls or any of the other stuff that makes me Smoldering Ash.” He stopped short, mildly horrified that he’d said all that.

  “Smoldering Ash, huh?”

  “Just a stupid nickname,” Ashish said, looking at his drink like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

  Sweetie smiled, a gentle thing. “I like it.” After a beat she added, “And that sucks.” There wasn’t a shred of discomfort or judgment in her voice. “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you.” She reached out and placed her hand lightly on his for just a moment, rubbing her thumb slowly over the side of his palm.

  His heart thundered. Well, some parts of him were definitely ready to move on. Interesting. “Yeah, well. Let’s talk about less pathetic things, shall we?”

  Sweetie took her hand back and smiled. “Like?”

  “Lightning round,” Ashish said. “Ready?”

  She sat up straighter and nodded, mock-seriously.

  “Sweet or salty?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious from my name? Sweet.”

  He laughed. “Oh, right. Okay, then how about this: Movies or books?”

  “Books.”

  “Slytherin or Hufflepuff?”

  “Hufflepuff.”

  “Beaches or mountains?”

  “Mountains.”

  “Cold or hot?”

  “Cold.”

  Ashish leaned back, smirking.

  “What?”

  “You should know that every one of your responses to those questions was the exact opposite of what I’d have picked.”

  Sweetie laughed. “So. We’re opposites. I don’t think that’s such a surprise, do you?”

  “I guess not.”

  The waitress came then and deposited Sweetie’s Greek-style marinated salmon and tzatziki sauce and Ashish’s moussaka on the table.

  “Okay, then,” Sweetie said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “My turn.”

  “Bring it.”

  “Downton Abbey: Matthew Crawley or Henry Talbot?”

  “I don’t know what any of those words mean in that order.”

  Sweetie stared at him. “I don’t think we can be friends unless you have at least a passing understanding of Downton Abbey.”

  “Sure. I’ll get right on that.” He grinned lazily.

  “Okay, let’s move on. Sunsets or sunrises?”

  “Sunrises.”

  “Rain or snow?”

  “Rain.”

  “Dogs or cats?”

  “Dogs.”

  “Endings or beginnings?”

  He held her gaze for a moment. “Beginnings. Definitely.”

  She dropped her eyes and reached for her Coke. After she’d had a deep gulp, she said softly, “Well, see? You answered exactly the way I would have for all of those questions.”

  “Except the Downton Abbey one.”

  “Right. Except that.” She smiled, but it was a small, shy thing that he wanted to look at all day. “We’ll have to rectify that someday.”

  Neither of them had even begun eating yet. Ashish unrolled his silverware. “Maybe if I break both legs and have nothing else to keep me occupied.”

  Laughing, Sweetie put a forkful of salmon in her mouth. Closing her eyes, she said, “Ohhhh. My. God. So good.”

  Ashish realized he could watch her make that expression all day. Clearing his throat to get his mind out of the very fun gutter it was swimming in, he said, “Gl-glood. I mean, glad. I’m glad you like it.”

  Sweetie opened her eyes and gave him a look that told him she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. Smiling, she looked down at her plate.

  Great, Ash. That’s what you want: Sweetie thinking you’re a total perv. He shoveled his food into his mouth before he could say yet another stupid thing in the course of this meal.

  They lingered over their food and then over dessert—Ashish made sure to tip the waitress generously for the privilege. And then, since neither of them wanted to leave yet, they decided to walk to the reflecting pool for a while.

  It was easy with Sweetie in a way it never had been with Celia. Sure, it had been fire and sparks and heat and passion with Celia. (And then it had been ice cubes and thunderclouds and hailstorms and tears. Hers, not his, naturally. Ashish didn’t cry.) (Okay, the tears had been his. But only a few.)

  But with Sweetie time passed in gentle waves. A conversation with her was like a warm hug and a cup of hot cocoa on a cold day—comforting, familiar, a place you never wanted to leave. And the thing was … he found her really physically attractive, too. His brain still held on to the vestiges of Celia, sure he’d never be over her. But his body seemed not to be conflicted at all. It was a huge improvement, especially considering he’d barely been aware of Dana Patterson, cheerleader hottie extraordinaire. He thought he knew what it was: He was genuinely attracted to Sweetie’s personality, and that just made her body even more attractive to him.

  By the time he drove her to his house, the late-afternoon sun had stained the day gold. They sat in the garage, the Porsche turned off, everythin
g quiet and dark and still. Sweetie looked at him and then darted her glance away, smiling a bit.

  He turned in his seat to face her. “I had fun today.”

  She said softly, “Me too. You’re good company. Except when you admit to not knowing anything about Downton Abbey.”

  Ashish rolled his eyes. She’d told him the premise. “Downton Crappy, more like. I can’t believe people like to sit around and watch ancient British people get dressed by their butlers.”

  Sweetie sighed. “No, they’re dressed by their valets and lady’s maids. Jeez. Weren’t you listening?”

  They laughed together. Then Ashish got serious. “You know, I wasn’t kidding earlier.”

  Sweetie frowned. “About what?”

  “That you look beautiful today.” He reached over and wound a strand of her hair around the bun she’d tied at the base of her neck. Her eyes widened for a moment, but then she leaned into his touch. His heart sang.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Ashish shifted slowly in his seat, leaning forward an inch at a time to make sure she was okay with this. She held his gaze, her eyes dark and shining, until they fluttered shut. From just a breath away, she smelled heavenly, like sunshine and mint and something so soft it caressed his skin like silk.

  Ashish meant for it to be a quick kiss. But once his lips found hers, her skin like velvet, he felt his hands cupping her face and gently pulling her closer; he couldn’t get close enough. She tasted like dew and sweets, exactly how he’d expected her to taste. She made a quiet moaning sound in the back of her throat that drove him crazy, her own small hands sliding up against his chest and resting there between them. She was all soft, decadent curves—so different from any girl he’d ever kissed and still so incredibly, mind-blowingly sexy.

  They pulled apart finally to catch their breath. Ashish smiled and rested his forehead against hers. Her eyes shone even more brightly, that faint dimple making an appearance and burrowing itself into his heart.

  She giggled. “I don’t know what to say except … wow.”

  He chuckled. “‘Wow’ is good. I totally agree with ‘wow.’”

  She swallowed and pulled away a little, looking down at her lap. “That was, um, my first real kiss.”

  He stared at her. It was ridiculous that this gorgeous, funny, sweet, intelligent girl had never been kissed. “I’m honored that I got to be your first, then. But also? I’m glad you didn’t tell me that before. The pressure would’ve been too much.”

  She laughed a little, but it wasn’t full of joy like her laughter usually was. “Right. Sure.”

  Ashish frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She took a breath and met his eye. “You have a lot of … experience. With girls. And I don’t. I mean, I have literally zero experience with boys. I’m not exaggerating.”

  “Hey.” He touched her hand gently. “That doesn’t matter to me. At all.”

  She looked at him like she was deciding whether or not to share something. Thrusting her chin out, she said, “And I’m not going to be easy just because I’m fat and no boy has ever dated me before.”

  Ashish froze. “I would never think that. Have I … have I somehow given you that impression?”

  Sighing, she looked down at her tightly clasped hands. “No. It’s just something I know guys think about fat girls. And it’s not true at all.”

  Ashish put his hand under her chin and she looked back at him. “I don’t think that. And any guy who thinks that is a total piece of crap. I don’t care about your lack of experience. I want you to know we’ll go at your pace, okay? I have no expectations at all, and I’m totally fine with taking it slow. I mean, my last relationship was extremely fast and look how that ended up.”

  She studied his face, as if checking for dishonesty. Finally, though, she smiled, full and bright. “Okay. I’m fine with taking it slow.” Then, frowning a little, she said, “But kissing is good.”

  Ashish laughed. “Kissing is good; got it.” Just to prove he really did get it, he leaned forward and kissed her again.

  CHAPTER 18

  Basketball practice Monday after school was as lackluster as usual. Ashish bungled easy shots, he got hit in the side of the head because he was looking in the wrong direction, Elijah pretty much carried the game, and Coach ripped him a new one.

  Ashish took all the ribbing from his teammates—both gentle and vicious—with humility. Yeah, he was sucking. Yeah, he knew. No, he didn’t know how to fix it.

  Something was off inside Ashish, something vital and passionate and competitive that had gone dormant after Celia dumped him. He’d secretly—and apparently stupidly—hoped that missing ingredient would come back after his date with Sweetie. But nope. It was obviously on an interstellar journey off in space somewhere.

  He, Oliver, and Elijah were getting changed in the locker room when his phone beeped with an incoming text message.

  Samir: Can I come by?

  Sighing, Ashish typed a response. Just finished bball practice. Can it wait?

  Tomorrow?

  He had basketball practice tomorrow, too. Tonight’s fine. Maybe 7ish?

  K see you then

  Whatever Samir had to say, he could get it out of the way. To be honest, Ashish wasn’t really happy with him at the moment. He’d called a few times over the weekend, and Ashish had just let it go to voice mail. What did Samir expect, when he’d blurted out all that crap to Sweetie and acted like a total douche? But it was obvious he wouldn’t shut up until Ashish had heard him out. It was obvious he just wanted to give him some half-assed apology. Whatever. Ashish slammed his locker shut and turned to Oliver and Elijah. “Ready?”

  But they didn’t hear him. They seemed to be having a heated discussion about something on the bench. Oliver, the taller of the two, had his head bent down toward Elijah’s. He was making extravagant hand gestures, the way he did when he was mad, and Elijah had on his closed-off, shut-down look. Totally weird. They never, ever argued. If something happened that they disagreed with, one of them would always laugh and kiss the other and say “Ah, my baby’s so passionate” or something equally vomitous that made Ashish want to smile and poke his eyeballs out with a fork at the same time.

  He stood there, wondering if he should leave, then discarding the idea. He didn’t want to just abandon them. Maybe he should interrupt. … But they looked really into it. He needed to get home, though, or he wouldn’t have time to grab dinner before Samir came over and gave him a headache. Ashish stepped closer and cleared his throat. “Uh … guys? You ready to go?”

  Elijah looked away, but Oliver looked up at him. There were tears in his gray eyes. Ashish froze, completely shocked. Oliver was crying? What was going on?

  “Hey, are you …?”

  But Oliver just rubbed his fists along his cheeks and dashed out of the locker room. Elijah bent to tie his shoes, totally avoiding Ashish’s eyes. Okay, what was the protocol for this? He’d never been in the middle of a lovers’ spat before. “Elijah, what—”

  Elijah got up and grabbed his duffel bag with way more force than necessary. “Let’s go.”

  Oh-kayyy. Ashish could take a hint. He followed Elijah silently, looking out for Oliver. But he was gone. Which was weird, because Ashish was supposed to be his ride. Surreptitiously he took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text.

  Hey man you ok? Need a ride?

  Oliver: Is HE getting a ride?

  It didn’t take Stephen King’s imagination to get who “HE” was. Yeah

  Then NO thank you. I can make my own way

  Dude what is going on??

  Why don’t you ask him? He’s the one with all the answers

  “Who’re you texting?” Elijah was looking over his shoulder.

  Ashish put the phone away. “Oliver.” Elijah made a motion to get into the Jeep, but Ashish put a hand on his arm. “What’s going on, E.?”

  Elijah tossed his bags into the back and turned to face Ashish, his arms crosse
d, his jaw hard. “What did he tell you?”

  “Just that I should ask you.”

  “Okay, fine. Apparently, Oliver heard a rumor that I hooked up with some guy on the Eastman team two weeks ago.”

  Ashish was afraid to ask the next question but forced himself to anyway. “And is it true?”

  Elijah scoffed. “No.”

  “Okay. So then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that Oliver wouldn’t believe me. He said several people had seen me, and he knew the truth, so I should just come clean. Never mind that the Eastman team is totally homophobic. Never mind that they’ve given Oliver and me crap ever since we started going out. So I told him we should break up.” Elijah rubbed a big hand along his jaw, agitated.

  Ashish stared at him for a good ten seconds. “You said what?”

  “We’ve been going out for two years, Ash. I’m his first serious boyfriend. And now he’s acting like some jealous spouse. I just think, you know, if he can’t trust me, then it’s time we take a break. Maybe things are becoming too serious.”

  Ashish blew out a breath and tried to compose his face to look like something besides You moron. You’re making a huge mistake. How can you not see that?! “Look, man. I’m no expert on serious relationships. But what you and Oliver have …” He shook his head and looked away. “People would kill for that, you know? People spend their entire lives looking for it. And you’re kicking it to the curb because … he cares about you too much? You care about him too much? I don’t even—”

  “You’re not in our relationship. You don’t know.”

  Ashish didn’t know what to say to that. “Are you saying you’re not happy?”

  “No. I’m saying I feel like I’m married. And I’m seventeen. I don’t know what I want yet; I don’t even know where I want to go to college or what I want to major in. How can I make arguably the biggest decision of my life right now?”

  “You’re scared. I get it—”

  “No, you don’t.” Elijah shook his head. “You can’t.”

  There wasn’t much to be said to that. Ashish nodded. “You’re right. I don’t.”