“I haven’t called them in a while,” Rishi said, sounding guilty. “College has just taken over my life. Between that and sneaking visits in with Dimple when I can …”
“I hear you.”
“So Sweetie, huh? Is she helping you move on from the breakup?”
“Yeah, she is, actually.”
There was a pause. Ashish tried to decide how to say what he wanted to say, what he felt deep inside.
“But?”
“But I’m not sure if it’s going to work. We’re so different. She’s … I’m … My relationship track record sucks. And Celia … she really messed me up, Rishi.”
Rishi’s voice was soft when he spoke, judgment-free. “That’s understandable. Celia was your first love, Ashish.” He paused. “As for your track record—look, everyone’s gotta start somewhere. You have to turn it around somehow. Why not begin now?”
Ashish swallowed and looked at the lit swimming pool in the distance. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
“So this Sweetie girl … is she good?”
Ashish felt a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, she’s the best.”
“Then give this a chance. You might surprise yourself. But you have to let go of everything that happened with Celia, all the hurt and confusion. Just cut the strings and let that … that kite fly.”
Ashish raised an eyebrow. “That kite, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s late, gimme a break.” Someone called Rishi’s name frantically in the distance.
Ashish chuckled. “You should go. Sounds like an art history emergency.”
“It’s a dangerous world, but somebody’s gotta live it,” Rishi said valiantly. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Talk soon, bhaiyya.”
“Okay. Bye.”
Ashish hung up and sat back, letting the cool breeze wash over him. Rishi hadn’t really said anything earth-shattering, but Ashish still somehow felt better. Like he really would figure things out somehow, like maybe he wasn’t as emotionally stunted as he feared.
His phone beeped again.
Sweetie: you up?
Huh. This was new. Sweetie didn’t usually text after ten p.m. He typed, yeah but why are you? Thought you said you were an early-to-bed-er
ugh econ project don’t ask
uh oh
i need a break so … I have a question
shoot
will you meet me at the corner of McAdam and Harper near where I live? And bring your tennis shoes
He smiled a little as he responded. is this another race? I think you’ve proved that you can kick my butt any day of the week. You don’t have to try when I’m tired and weak
haha no this is something else
very intriguing
so you’ll come?
obviously
k see you in 20
Ashish felt a little burst of energy as he walked inside to get his shoes on and refresh his deodorant (just in case). (He also brushed his teeth. Just in case.) If he was going to be sleepless, then sleepless on a midnight rendezvous with Sweetie was by far the most interesting option. He grabbed his keys and left a note for his parents, but he was sure they wouldn’t be up until the morning. Sleep came easily to everyone in their family. That had included Ashish until very recently.
He drove down to Sweetie’s neighborhood and parked along the curb on Harper Avenue. Looking around, he saw immediately why she’d asked to meet him there. A small basketball court surrounded by a chain-link fence stood on the corner, quiet and empty. Smiling, he walked over to it, sat on a bench, and waited.
CHAPTER 23
He was just about to text Sweetie a picture of himself looking all woebegone and lost when his phone beeped.
Celia: hey, you up? what are you doing?
He stared at the text for a long moment. He remembered what Rishi had said: Cut the strings. He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“Hey.”
Ashish spun around on the bench to see Sweetie walking up, her high ponytail bouncing, her smile bright like a sliver of moonlight in the near darkness. “Hey yourself.” Standing, he reached out and pulled her into a hug. Without even meaning to, he inhaled the scent of her in one long, deep breath, which he let out slowly. His shoulders instantly relaxed.
She looked up at him and smiled, slaying him with that dimple. “You okay?”
“I am now.” It was true, he realized. Everything felt good, peaceful.
She looked down at her feet, still smiling. Oh God. The adorability—that was a word, right?—was too much. Suddenly Ashish couldn’t remember why he’d ever been wary of asking his parents to set him up.
He grabbed Sweetie’s hand and they began walking. “So, are you a basketball star too? Is your plan to just completely annihilate me in every sport?”
She laughed, the sound lighting up the quiet night. “No. This is all about you feeling like a star.”
“Oh yeah?” He let go of her hand and turned to her, running his fingers lightly up her arm, delighting in her shivering. “Because there are a few things besides basketball that could make me feel like that.”
Sweetie looked away and swatted at him, smiling. “Behave.”
He held up his hands, thinking, Man, no one does shy more beautifully than Sweetie.
“I think we should play a round of basketball. Maybe get you to enjoy it again.” She paused, biting her lip, as if she wasn’t sure how he’d receive what she was about to say next. “I ran into Oliver tonight, and he told me you’re still not feeling it.” He crossed his arms, trying not to get defensive, and she put a small hand on his arm. “I just want to help. I can’t imagine anything worse than not being able to enjoy running anymore.”
Ashish forced himself to smile. She was clearly trying to make him feel better; there was no hint of pity or Get over it already in her eyes. “That’s sweetie of you.”
“Ha ha.” Sweetie raised an eyebrow. “You can’t deflect me that easily, Mr. Patel.”
Judging by her outthrust chin, she wasn’t going to let this go. “Okay, fine.” Ashish let out a breath. “It has been pretty sucky.”
She looked at him, those dark eyes like the most expensive black velvet, soft and infinite. “I can only imagine.” Then, standing on tiptoe, she placed the gentlest, lightest kiss on his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth.
Ashish literally could not think of a single word to say.
“So this is my plan,” she continued, completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him.
“Mmm, yes, plan,” Ashish mumbled, blinking the lusty gauze curtain away.
“I want to have a basketball game, maybe something like horse. But we’re going to make it interesting.”
“Oh yeah?” Ashish raised an eyebrow. He could feel all parts of himself tuning in.
“Yeah. We can pick each other’s positions to try to make the basket—the harder the better, obviously. And we have to sing the national anthem while we try to make the basket. You know, to make things interesting.”
Positions. Harder. Ashish was trying really hard not to be a perv, but this was getting a little out of hand. She had said nothing to justify the thoughts running through his head. Get a grip, jeez. Pun wholly intended. “The national anthem, huh?”
“Oh, and I almost forgot.” Sweetie stepped closer, her head tipped up to look at him. “For every basket you make, I’ll kiss you.” Her eyes glittered, and her mouth turned up in a half smile that nearly brought him to his knees. “And you seem to like my kissing, so.”
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t completely oblivious to the effect she had on him.
Sweetie had no idea where all that sass had come from. She had never, ever even dreamed of talking to a boy like this, let alone allow the words to actually leave her mouth. It was like pretending to be Sassy Sweetie was actually changing how she thought about herself. It was making her confidence level rise, melting those icy barriers she’d built before to keep out people who said she had very littl
e to offer.
Like global warming, but with fewer sad polar bears.
She was supremely enjoying the dopey look on Ashish’s face, actually. It felt incredibly good to know that, as hot and funny and nice as Ashish was, he seemed to be really into her, too. She flashed briefly back to what Kayla, Izzy, and Suki had said. How maybe she should play it safe because Ashish might only ever be physically attracted to her and unable to give her anything else. But it couldn’t be true. Looking at him now, she could plainly see that it wasn’t just her body he wanted. It was her. All of her.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him in. He automatically dipped his head toward hers, his eyes dark and serious. She closed her eyes and let her lips find his; his stubble scraped her jaw and she tasted him—his very Ashishness—with a sigh. His arms tightened around her, and she felt his muscles against her own soft curves; she felt every part of him come alive and fuse closely to her.
“Sweetie,” he whispered, pulling away from her for a moment.
She looked at him in silence. He didn’t say anything else, but she heard what he wanted to say, what he meant to say. That he was falling for her, too.
He wanted to tell her so many things. That he was falling for her, but for some reason, Celia still tugged faintly at his mind, like a siren song floating across the ocean. He wanted to tell her Celia had texted him and that they’d talked. He wanted to tell her he’d never felt as happy, as at peace, as he did when Sweetie was with him. He wanted to tell her he was changing, becoming a better person, a gentler, kinder person, all because of her.
But something inside of him protested. It’s not fair to Sweetie to have that conversation right now, it said. Rishi had told him to let Celia go. But first he needed to figure out why Celia was still on his mind, what that was all about. And until he did, he couldn’t burden Sweetie with this. Maybe falling for Sweetie reminded him of falling for Celia, of getting his heart stomped on under her glittering heels. Maybe it was because everything with Celia felt unfinished, like he’d never gotten the chance to say his piece.
So Ashish wanted to tell Sweetie a lot of things. But in the end all he managed was her name.
“So. That was just a little preview.” Sweetie grinned, and after the slightest pause Ashish grinned back. It didn’t seem fully lit up, but she didn’t let that bother her. He was probably just not used to feeling like this—finally leaving Celia and whatever hang-ups came with a breakup behind. Who could say? “Ready to play?”
“Let’s do this.” He swatted the ball out from under the crook of her arm.
“Hey!”
“Oh, what?” he said, spinning it on one finger. “You thought I was going to take it easy on you because you’re so ravishing?”
Sweetie put her hands on her hips and pretended to look mad even though her mind just kept repeating, Ravishing. You just heard the word “ravishing.” In relation to you. From his lips. “I expect nothing of the kind. Prepare to get your butt whupped.”
Sweetie wasn’t a basketball player, but she wasn’t bad. It took Ashish almost ten minutes to get a basket that she missed.
“Whew, that’s H for you,” he said, shaking his head. “That could’ve been embarrassing if I got the first H.”
Sweetie narrowed her eyes. “Why? Because I’m a girl?”
He looked genuinely perplexed. “No, because I’m the star here?”
She laughed. “Oh my God, the ego! Save me!”
He grinned. “Okay. So now I believe I’ve earned a kiss?”
She grew still, feeling suddenly trembly again. Her earlier hubris had disappeared. “Right,” she said softly.
“You know what? Can I put it in an account and collect on the interest instead?”
Sweetie waited. “Um. What?”
Ashish grinned that cocky smile she loved, and her heart flopped around helplessly. “You know. I think it might work in my favor to collect on it in the end. One big kiss instead of a series of little ones.”
Sweetie felt the heat flood her cheeks. She felt her knees wobble. All she could think about was him, wrapped around her. God, when had she gotten so kiss obsessed? The answer to that, of course, was when she’d begun dating Ashish. “Um.” She cleared her throat when her voice came out a squeak. “Yeah. O-okay.”
Ashish’s grin got brighter. “Excellent. So. Warm-up’s over.”
“Right.” Sweetie laughed, a tad hysterically. “That was the warm-up. I knew that.”
Ashish’s knowing smirk told her he wasn’t falling for it. “Mm-hmm. It’s my turn to pick the position. I say you go over there”—he pointed to some bushes—“and try to make the basket while crouching behind them. Oh, and don’t forget the national anthem. Actually, you know what? I want you to sing me a song you’ll be singing at Band Night.”
“Seriously? Crouching and making me sing a pop song? That doesn’t seem so fair for a star.”
Grinning, Ashish tugged on the end of her ponytail. When she tilted her head back, he placed a gentle kiss on her neck. Sweetie could manage only a strangled gasp in the back of her throat; every nerve ending was vibrating with pleasure, humming with desire. “Forgive me,” he murmured against her skin.
“Th-that’s quite all right,” she managed. On legs that felt like melting rubber, she walked to the bushes, stealing a backward glance at him. The way he was smiling at her, he looked … delighted. But why?
Ashish was having a hard time not grinning like a damn fool. It felt so good to know that someone as kind, as sweet, as funny, as beautiful as Sweetie seemed to want him just as much as he wanted her.
His phone beeped in his pocket. He fished it out.
Celia: Are you mad at me
He stared at the message for a moment, his grin fading. Then he typed, No just busy sorry
Celia: Call me later?
He hesitated. This wasn’t going to be easy. Yeah
Sweetie heard the beep and saw Ashish texting. “You need to get back home?”
He startled a little (guiltily?) as he looked up at her, but then her favorite smolder-smirk was back. He slipped his phone into his pocket. “No, it’s fine. So you gonna make that basket? And sing?”
“Jeez, give me a minute, bossy,” she mumbled, trying to get comfortable as she fell into a crouch.
She didn’t make that basket or the next one or the next one. And no matter how ridiculous the positions she chose for Ashish—at one point she even had him climb the pole of the opposite basketball net—he managed to make them all. She challenged him to sing Bollywood songs, and he managed, even though his Hindi wasn’t the best. He made her sing every song from the lineup for Band Night. And every time she missed and he made it, he’d say, “Don’t forget. That’s another kiss for later.”
She had just missed the basket, earning her an S, when he began to lope toward her in the darkness, his eyes strangely intent. She straightened up, leaving the ball on the ground. “I—I still have an E left,” she said hoarsely, though why she didn’t know. If he was going to collect now, that was A-OK with her.
“I know,” Ashish said softly, coming to stand so close to her, she could feel his body heat through her clothes. “I have a question, though.”
His honey-colored eyes were hypnotizing in the dim light, twin planets she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by.
“Okay.”
He took another step closer. Their clothes brushed against each other. It felt like Sweetie’s heart was tap-dancing its way out of her chest. “All those songs … you picked them.”
Sweetie nodded, suddenly feeling a mixture of embarrassment and panic. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. He’d noticed.
“They’re all songs about first love,” Ashish said quietly, not breaking his gaze.
Sweetie swallowed. She wanted to look away, but she was frozen, helpless. “That’s … that’s not a question,” she said finally, her voice just a husky whisper. Her cheeks burned.
Ashish put two fingers under her chin. She forced hers
elf to hold still. “Sweetie Nair,” he said, bending his head so their lips were less than a finger’s breadth apart. “I really don’t deserve you.”
Her breath was coming faster. Sweetie knew what she wanted to say; the words were building behind her teeth, like a veritable ocean wave. But could she say them? Could she put herself out there like that, be honest and vulnerable? She thought of the Sassy Sweetie Project. How the whole point was to be brave in every facet of her life. How much she wanted to be that girl, the one living her life proudly and bravely, the one who wasn’t afraid to get a little dinged with rejection. The one who’d pick herself up again, no matter what, because she knew that what she had to offer the world was spectacular. So she forced the words out, shaking her head. “That’s not true. You’re … you’re the real thing, Ashish. You like to show everyone this cocky, arrogant front, but I see the real you. I see you, and you’re sweet and funny and stubborn and vulnerable. You love with everything you have, and when you get hurt, you curl around yourself to protect the softest parts of you.” She put a hand on his cheek, felt the stubble and the strong jaw there. Goose bumps broke out on her arms and legs. “But you don’t have to do that with me. I won’t hurt you.” She paused, almost panting with the effort of keeping pace with her drumming heart. “And I … I think you know that. I think you’re falling for me, too.”
He stared at her for another long moment, and she began to wonder if she’d made a big mistake. If she’d misjudged. He had told her he was still kind of hung up on Celia, after all. What if he thought she was being presumptuous? But then Ashish smiled. A soft, sad thing, a wisp of a smile, really. “Oh, Sweetie,” he whispered, bringing his mouth to hers fully. “How could I not?”
And then they were kissing and melting and sighing, and Sweetie was completely lost to the world.
There was no lie in anything Sweetie had just said. Even as he kissed her, Ashish played her words over in his head—he was falling for her. He did know that she’d never hurt him, at least not intentionally. But here’s what Sweetie hadn’t said, and what Ashish knew to be true: He was still desperately, deathly scared, as uncool as it was to even admit that to himself. He was afraid of what would happen if he fell harder and faster and deeper than he was already falling. He was afraid of what it said about him that before this he’d had one serious relationship, which had ended in fire and flames. He was afraid that what he wanted to say to Celia, what he planned to say to her very soon, would go badly, that somehow he’d say his piece and still not have any closure.
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