by Farah Heron
The touch made her insides melt. It felt charged somehow. “I thought you had a foot fetish? What’s with the scalp love?”
“I think I may be developing a taste for wet curls, too.” He placed the comb on the coffee table but did not remove his left hand from her hair. Soon his right hand joined in the party, lightly fingering the wet ends. “I think I’m done combing,” he murmured. He leaned closer and brushed his face in her hair.
“Nadim?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you coming on to me?”
“Maybe.” He leaned even closer, his warm breath tickling her neck. It was getting harder to breathe in her living room.
“I…” She shuddered as he pushed her hair to one side. What were they talking about?
He dipped his head and soft lips starting to graze her sensitized skin. Barely making contact, but with a promise of so much more.
Reena’s internal alert system blared: Mayday! He was going to kiss her neck. And if he did that, her asshole libido would let him, and she would lean into him and turn around, and then there would be kissing and writhing and clothes thrown to the floor, and she was pretty sure there were unexpired condoms in her bathroom, but maybe they could go to his place because his bed was better, even though it was technically her bed and…ungh. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.
There were thousands of valid reasons not to do this. And maybe just as many to do it. But with lips on her neck, it was hard to weigh the pros and cons right now.
Her upper body reclined on him as one of his hands moved to her hip and the other gently pushed her shoulder down to expose more of her neck. He kissed, licked, and sucked gently, turning her spine to goo.
His mouth was on her with intention. Maybe she was just imagining it, but there was a deliberateness in his actions. It had been months since she’d been touched by a man. Even longer since she’d felt completely wanted. Not just the convenient girl, not the party girl. She was the one he wanted to be with right now. It was her neck he wanted to kiss, her hair he wanted his hands in.
That thought was more intoxicating than the bourbon in her tea, so she let her brain turn off. Let it not worry about what a terrible idea this was. It didn’t matter. All that mattered were those soft lips closing the circuit that had been open since they met.
Somehow she ended up facing him. Legs draped over his, his hand still on her hip and his lips still feasting on her neck. Her chin. Her cheek.
And finally, her lips. The kiss wasn’t the frantic meeting with writhing and gripping she was expecting, but a slow, sensual awakening that curled Reena’s toes. It was immersive. The strong, confident body under her. The scruff of his jaw on her live-wire skin. The heady scent of his amber beer and…him. She pressed closer. He kissed her like he ate her bread—savoring each taste like he’d been gifted a rare delicacy. She could kiss this man forever, making her life bearable as she let everything else blur away. It was frightening how right this felt.
Because it was wrong.
“Stop,” she said, loudly. Okay, that was maybe a little too loud. Startled, he disentangled himself, and she shifted six inches away.
“Stop?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sorry.” She took a deep breath and turned to face him.
“Don’t apologize. I should apologize. Sorry.” He blinked a few times, seeming as off-kilter as she was.
They stared at each other. Heart racing, she tried to put on a casual face. His lips were pursed slightly for a second, before he smiled wide enough for that damn dimple to emerge. God, that perfect little indent was going to be the death of her—she felt sure of it.
“Appears we both have this Canadian apology thing down pat,” he said.
“Yeah.” Breathe in. Breathe out. “Give me a sec, I have to collect my thoughts.”
Thoughts. Thoughts. What were they, anyway? Not surprise, she’d seen this coming. They had been carefully inching over that line of appropriate behavior for a while now. Reena got that “just friends” didn’t give innuendo-laced foot rubs. Or agree to go on a national cooking contest as a couple. Or spend almost every evening together for the last week. Denial wasn’t just a river in Africa. After two weeks of insisting she wouldn’t marry the man, she’d let this current between them take her closer to something even more dangerous. She’d developed feelings for him. Real ones, not just the physical lust expected for a man who looked like…him.
She inhaled sharply before speaking. “I’m just trying to make sense of you and this weird relationship. We’re getting closer…as friends, I mean…” She exhaled. “You confided in me, and I confided in you, and we’re here for each other, but…”
“I’m sorry, Reena. Really. Don’t freak out. I won’t cross the line again. You can trust me.”
Could she trust him? She squeezed her lips together. With her body, yes. She did trust him. Even with her feet. But with her heart? Could she trust him to be honest about his true feelings?
“I don’t…” she started. “I mean, if we’d done that yesterday, I’d be…receptive…I mean, I wouldn’t have stopped. But after what you just told me…”
He tensed slightly. Any other person may not notice it, but she could read this man like she could read the bubbles on the surface of her starter. She saw when it was sour.
Nadim came to Toronto to marry the girl his father had chosen to make up for some big bad mistake he made. And despite the number of times Reena told him she would not marry him, he came on to her tonight. He kissed her, with a clear intention that he wanted to do much more. And she almost let him.
Was it really her he wanted? Or to placate his father? Or to please her father, the man he respected so much?
Reena bit her lip. “Do you really want me? I’ve told you I wouldn’t marry you, but it’s what both our fathers want. And now…I just told you about my job. I’m upset. Vulnerable. It’s a good time to soften me, right? What’s riding on our marriage anyway?”
“No! Reena, I—”
She put her hand up to stop him. “I have no way of knowing what you think of me. Honestly. No matter what you say or do, we’re tangled in our parents’ web, and our own actions can’t be separated from them. I don’t know what you promised your father, or what he will do if things don’t go the way he wants. And since I can’t know how you actually feel about me, all I can look at is my own track record.”
Reena stood. “I’ve been laid off three times.” She walked over to the kitchen and put her empty mug in the sink, carefully avoiding Nadim’s gaze. “I’ve had twelve boyfriends in the last fifteen years,” she continued. “Four were relationships that lasted over a year. Not one man said he loved me. The relationships didn’t end with a bang, they just kind of fizzled when the convenient sex and home-cooked meals lost their novelty. I’m the middle kid. My older brother, Khizar, is perfect. Kind, brilliant, successful. My little sister is brash and high-maintenance. I’m just there. Unmemorable. Weird hobbies and boring career. Easygoing, but not particularly good at anything.” She stood near her bedroom door. “I don’t know what deal our fathers made, but your father was definitely sold a lame horse.” She smiled sadly. “And despite that depressing pity party, I do have self-respect. Those twelve guys may not have been in it for the long haul, but at least they were into me for me. Not to impress their father or mine. They chose me. Good night, Nadim. The door locks automatically.”
She walked into her bedroom and closed the door. Had she been harsh there? Yeah, probably. She hadn’t even given the man a chance to defend himself. She knew what he’d say—that he cared for her. That she was a good friend when he needed it. That she could trust him.
But what good was trust really? It made no difference in the end—the people she trusted still left. Her brother, her best friend. Hell, even her job. And probably Nadim. She’d trusted him, and he’d only cared about obeying his father’s demands. She’d lost his friendship, if she ever really had it at all.
Reena didn’t even change.
She just turned off her light and climbed into bed.
This whole fucking day could go shove itself.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Three days, four cartons of rocky road, and a full bottle of vodka (she was so done with gin) didn’t do crap for Reena’s foul mood after that night. And nothing intervened to cheer her up. She didn’t hear about any new jobs and didn’t hear from any of the ones she’d applied for. She did have the new luxury of no longer giving a shit if anyone in the building discovered her unemployed state, but since she saw no one, it felt like a hollow benefit.
And she literally saw no one. Not even Nadim. It wasn’t that she wanted to see him. After hearing how hard he worked to please his father she now questioned every flirty wink, every concerned look, every friendly touch. The competition video told her how well he could perform. How great he was at faking affection. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it. If they made it to the next round, how could she continue with this charade?
And if she was wrong about him, if all this wasn’t about fulfilling some promise to his father or hers, then she had to see it for what it really was.
A fucking pity-kiss.
Pity for poor unemployed Reena. Unlucky in love, and with parents forcing an arranged marriage on her because she couldn’t manage to figure out how to make a dozen previous guys stick around long enough for an “I love you,” let alone a proposal.
Either option—the calculating Nadim or the pitying Nadim—didn’t make Reena feel all that great about herself.
She looked around her messy room. Plates strewn about. Empty bowls of ice cream and glasses. She was clearheaded enough to realize that after a full bottle of the best vodka thirty Canadian dollars could buy (honestly, not that good), she should probably stop using isolation and liquid mood enhancers to cope. Or full-fat ice cream for that matter.
She pulled a sweatshirt over her T-shirt and slipped on her flip-flops, glad this time no one could criticize her footwear, and headed out the door.
She went straight to the back deck. This was a mostly unused space that was technically for all the tenants, but no one came here. It held a few chairs and an old bistro table. After climbing the few stairs up, she noticed the deck looked different. A grouping of aluminum lawn chairs, the type popular in the eighties with wide woven straps in brilliant colors, now surrounded a yellow Formica table. And lights encased in translucent white balls had been wrapped around the railing—off now, but Reena could imagine their ethereal glow illuminating the quirky decor here. It felt like stepping into some sort of bubbly oasis behind the graying brick building. A cheerful hipster paradise.
As she was taking in the improvements, she heard someone walking down the steep stairs from the fire escape on the second floor. It was Marley, holding a tall rainbow-striped melamine glass and smiling at Reena.
“Oh, hey, Reena. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I didn’t know anyone was ever here. What happened to this place? You’ve been decorating?”
Marley shrugged as she placed her glass on the table. “Shayne’s been decorating. He wants to start doing photo shoots here. And I like having an outdoor space.”
“What kind of photo shoots?”
Marley shrugged. “He’s got a ridiculous new idea to start a new Instagram and fashion blog. Want some tea? I picked up this super-smooth oolong. It’s fantastic iced.”
Reena smiled and nodded, and sat on the purple lawn chair. Marley went back upstairs to her apartment. Once she was back with a second glass of iced tea, Marley sat on the yellow chair. “I’m completely wiped.”
Reena looked at her cousin. Something in Marley’s expression told Reena that her cousin’s exhaustion was more than just because of a busy work schedule. “You know, Marl, I know I’ve been a little self-absorbed lately, but if you ever needed to talk, I’m here for you.”
Marley squeezed her lips together a moment, before smiling again. “Eh, everyone is dealing with their own shit. It’s such a nice afternoon, I’m glad to have someone to hang out with. Did you take a vacation day?”
Reena closed her eyes a moment and debated whether to lie. But…fuck it. Marley was her cousin, yes, but her friend, too, right?
Reena tried to paint on an unaffected smile. “Nah. Got laid off a couple of weeks ago.”
Marley tilted her head sympathetically. “Ah. I’d wondered. I heard about the Railside layoffs.”
Of course. Marley worked in fashion retail. Reena had frankly been a bit deluded when she thought she could keep this secret. Mum and Dad would probably find out soon.
“I’ll be okay. I’ll find something else,” Reena said. Her four-day pity party hadn’t completely zapped her optimism about finding a new job. Her fear was more what would happen to her between now and getting that job.
Marley nodded. “I can ask around to see if anyone I know is hiring.”
“Thanks. And…”
“Don’t tell anyone, right?”
“Yeah. Mainly my parents. I don’t want them to know.”
“Of course.” Marley glanced out over the tiny parking lot behind them, the sun highlighting her high cheekbones in perfect relief. She sighed. “You know, it’s kinda ridiculous. Our parents force us to be so secretive because we’ll never meet their expectations. And then they tell us to keep their secrets to save face. We’re all suppressing deep feelings and traumas, and no one can support each other like a family should.” She paused, scrunching her nose.
“This family is completely fueled by secrets.”
“Yup.” Marley sipped her iced tea. “Hey, when’s your FoodTV thing going live?”
“I don’t know for sure. Tomorrow, I think?”
“I saw Nadim in the store yesterday. I waved to him, but I was with a customer so couldn’t chat.”
“I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
“He was buying dress shirts, I think. Probably for those fancy meetings your dad keeps sending him on.”
Logically, Reena knew that Nadim’s life had continued after that night when they had kissed. He still went to work every day, and apparently shopped on his lunch hour. He probably went to the Sparrow after work and laughed with Steve. He wasn’t sitting at home in three-day-old pajamas and dipping sourdough bread into melted rocky road. Life just kept going for him.
And it would keep going. She had no doubt Nadim would be successful. In her father’s company and even in his love life. He was smart, charismatic, and so handsome. And she would still be just Reena, watching all that from the sidelines.
She was used to looking in from the outskirts of success. A memory flashed through her mind. Years ago, their community had organized a kids’ trip to an amusement park. Reena couldn’t deal with roller coasters, not unless she was okay with wearing regurgitated funnel cake and fudge all day, but Amira and Khizar loved them. Reena still spent the whole day with them, in line for hours for extreme rides, each one bigger and more stomach churning than the last. And each time they got to the front of the line, Reena would step aside, watching her best friend and her brother squeeze into the hard seats and buckle themselves in. They’d still be spinning and laughing when they exited the ride, and Reena would join in the mirth, drunk on their pleasure and thrill.
And that’s what life felt like. Everyone taking a deliberate step onto a roller coaster while Reena stood by happily, anticipating their highs with them. But after the ride rolled off leaving Reena in a cloud of dust and happy smiles, who did she have left? Not Amira, the friend who’d left to live her own life. Not Khizar, four hours away and about to become a father of twins. Not even Saira, who was recovering well on her own. Now she could add another name, Nadim, to the list of people who she needed more than they needed her.
It was a sobering thought.
“You okay, Reena? Something happen between you and Nadim?” Marley asked.
“No.” Another lie.
“He’s a cool guy. Even if you’re not interested, you should thank your parents
for setting you up with him.” She giggled. “Clearly they’ve been taking notes when we talk about our favorite Bollywood stars in from of them.”
Reena chuckled. “Nah. They didn’t pick him for his ‘Shah Rukh Khan meets Shahid Kapoor’ looks, they picked him for his father. Believe me, there is no goodwill to me in this arrangement.”
“Well, I’d say it worked out. If nothing else, you have a new friend and a new fake fiancé to enter contests with.” She shrugged. “It’s more than you had before.”
Maybe. But considering how empty she felt after only a few days apart from this new friend, she wondered if maybe she would have been better off without Nadim Remtulla in her life.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Reena had had a Google Alert set up for her name for years—harking back to her blogging days when it was important to know when she was mentioned online. It had been silent for months. But after checking her email once back in her apartment, she saw several new alerts—the first of which linked to the main landing page of the FoodTV Home Cooking Showdown.
The contest had officially opened.
She took a deep breath as she skimmed the other alerts. They came from blogs and forums where internet foodies were already talking about the contest. After a few minutes of looking at all the links, she noticed that no one seemed to make a connection between her old blog and this. That was good, she supposed.
But still. Seeing her and Nadim’s names together turned her stomach upside down.
Reena Manji and fiancé, Nadim Remtulla.
She went back to the FoodTV site. The other contestants’ videos were all there. Should she watch them?
Her text rang. It was Nadim. Contest went live.
It was now too late to back out. Was that what he wanted?
She bit her lip and texted him a response: I know. I saw it. Do you want me to pull out?
He didn’t answer.
