When Dimple Met Rishi
Page 35
“Rishi Patel! Kartik aur Sunita ka beta? ”
Dimple flushed, sweat prickling at her hairline. God, she couldn’t even bear to look at Rishi now. “Mamma, please. It’s not a big deal,” she mumbled, squeezing the phone in her sweaty hand. Why had she even answered her phone? Seriously, what had she been thinking?
“Where are you going? Akele uske kamre mein math jaana , Dimple—”
“God , Mamma, I have to go. And of course I won’t.” She hung up, feeling a stab of guilt at cutting off Mamma’s well-intentioned advice. But jeez. Don’t go to his room alone? Like she hadn’t embarrassed Dimple enough in front of Rishi already. She was probably on the verge of talking about Dimple’s sacred virginity.
Slipping her phone back into her bag, Dimple forced herself to meet Rishi’s eye. He was still chewing on the inside of his cheek. “What?” she said, a little more savagely than she’d meant to.
He raised his hands. “I didn’t say anything.” Then he began humming under his breath.
Dimple recognized the song just as the elevator doors slid open on the first floor. Hum tum, ek kamre mein bandh ho, aur chaavi kho jaaye. . . . It was a popular old Hindi song, about a couple who’re shut away in a room when the keys go missing. Dimple slapped Rishi on his upper arm as they walked toward the doors. “Very funny.”
He burst out laughing, and her heart lifted in mirth in spite of her still bubbling irritation. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. She’s just being your mom.”
“Exactly,” Dimple mumbled as they strode across the lobby and outside. It was sort of nice that she didn’t need to explain the hovering, how it really came from a place of love. Rishi got that this was just what moms and dads did in their world.
Dimple took a deep breath, acrid smog and wet mist and herby eucalyptus all mixing together in her lungs. Groups of people and a few couples milled around, all laughing and joking and calling out to each other, some obviously already intoxicated, heading off campus for the weekend.
Dimple began to climb the steep road off to their right that led off campus, imagining that they were going to a restaurant nearby, but Rishi put a hand on her arm.
“Wait a sec.” Casually, Rishi grabbed Dimple’s hand and they crossed the road.
She tried not to show how flustered she felt, or how much she liked the feel of his big, warm, blunt fingers loosely grasping hers. “Um, where are we going?”
Rishi gestured to a glossy black convertible with the top down. As they got closer, the doors beeped. “Our chariot awaits.”
Tossing Rishi a dazed look, Dimple climbed in. When Rishi had shut her door and hopped in his side, she asked, “You drive a Beemer ?”
Rishi looked at her innocently. “What?”
Dimple snorted. “Nothing. It’s just that normal people usually take the bus when they want to go somewhere far.”
He looked genuinely uncomfortable as he pulled out of the space. “The bus. Right.”
Feeling a little sorry for him, Dimple adjusted her tone from mocking to gently teasing . “This is really flashy for a non-date.”
Rishi grinned and rubbed the back of his neck, accelerating as they climbed a steep hill. “What are you talking about? Yesterday I ordered a stretch limo when I wanted to run to the store to buy a pack of gum. Isn’t that what everyone does?”
Dimple laughed. “Totally. Sometimes I’ll even order a private jet.”
They were quiet for a moment, feeling the wind in their hair, and then Dimple said, “So, where are we going?”
Rishi shook his head. “Still a surprise. I think you’ll like it, though.”
There wasn’t a single place, Dimple realized, that she didn’t want to go right now. Not because she wasn’t picky, but because she could go pretty much anywhere with Rishi and enjoy herself. The realization was alarming. Concerning. And not altogether unwelcome.
• • •
The glitzy car dipped and reached, engine purring as it climbed the ubiquitous San Francisco hills. Rishi had turned on the seat warmers when he saw Dimple shivering lightly in the wind, so she was now perfectly comfortable. Dimple watched the buildings of the campus recede as they wound deeper into what looked like a residential district. Squat houses in pastel colors lined the road like rows of sidewalk chalk. Little potted plants decorated their stone porch stairs. An elderly man walking a little white dog looked curiously at them as they passed.
They came to a stop at a red light. “I feel like a celebrity.” Dimple smiled and turned—and found Rishi watching her, unabashed. When their gazes locked, he flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink. But he didn’t look away. And Dimple didn’t look away. She . . . couldn’t.
The moment stretched out, soft and gauzy tangling with dark and heavy. Dimple began to notice other things; how close her bare arm was to his. The heat his body was putting out. The way he smelled—like sunshine and something woodsy and boy.
Rishi rubbed the back of his neck and somehow shifted subtly forward. The only reason she really noticed was that his arm was now rubbing against hers. Something inside her went melty and warm. His eyes were all she could see as he leaned forward. Dimple found her lips parting, involuntarily, even as she thought, This is distinctly not non-date behavior.
The SUV behind them honked. The light had turned green. Rishi started and turned away, the moment gone.
CHAPTER 32
Rishi cleared his throat as they sped down the road. Dimple adjusted her dress awkwardly, wondering if he was just as disappointed as she was. That was twice that a kissable moment had been thwarted.
A moment later Rishi signaled left and pulled up to the curb. Hopping out of his seat, he ran over to open her door, ever chivalrous. Neither of them said anything. There was a little charge of electricity in the air, that feeling of pressure right before a storm. Dimple’s pulse raced. Did Rishi feel the same? His face was impassive; she couldn’t say.
Silently, they crossed the little street together, heading toward a bank of narrow storefronts—mostly clothing and record stores—on the other side. Rishi led her toward a greenish-blue storefront. The sign outside read TWO SISTERS BAR AND BOOKS .
“Bar and books?” Dimple pushed her glasses up on her nose, feeling fingers of curiosity tap their way along her skin. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Rishi twinkled at her. “You’ll see.”
• • •
The place was just as amazing as when Rishi had come here earlier in the week to scope it out. The vintage, Victorian-style red-and-tan wallpaper, the smell of old book glue, the clink of glasses and hum of quiet conversations and occasional laughter . . . it was just quirky and different enough to be worthy of Dimple. It was exactly what he’d wanted for their first non-date. Now that it was dusk outside, the store had turned on the hanging lights, and thanks to them and the pink wallpaper, everything was cast with a pink-gold glow.
Dimple was staring at the bar and the bookshelves, openmouthed. Rishi suppressed a self-satisfied chuckle. Oh, yes. Dimple’s mind could be considered 100 percent blown. Well done, Patel. “So is this a bar? A restaurant? With books inside it?”
Rishi grinned. “Yeah. The owners get these really cool editions from all over the world. So you can just sip, eat, and read, I guess.”
Dimple raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You know we’re not old enough to drink, right?”
“They can make everything virgin,” Rishi said. “I asked.”
Dimple got a funny look on her face as her smile faded. “You asked? When?”
“A few days ago, when I came in here to check it out.”
There was something in Dimple’s eyes he couldn’t read. She looked away, fiddling with the strap of her bag, and Rishi wondered if he’d said something wrong. When she didn’t say anything, he continued, less surely. “So you can look around at the books, pick something up if you like. But ah, I also . . .” He paused, wondering if he should actually tell her. Her face, her expression . . . something was off. Did she think he was overplanning it? Putting too much thought into it? Was this all too much for her?
Dimple looked back at him, questioning. “You also what?”
Dimple flushed, sweat prickling at her hairline. God, she couldn’t even bear to look at Rishi now. “Mamma, please. It’s not a big deal,” she mumbled, squeezing the phone in her sweaty hand. Why had she even answered her phone? Seriously, what had she been thinking?
“Where are you going? Akele uske kamre mein math jaana , Dimple—”
“God , Mamma, I have to go. And of course I won’t.” She hung up, feeling a stab of guilt at cutting off Mamma’s well-intentioned advice. But jeez. Don’t go to his room alone? Like she hadn’t embarrassed Dimple enough in front of Rishi already. She was probably on the verge of talking about Dimple’s sacred virginity.
Slipping her phone back into her bag, Dimple forced herself to meet Rishi’s eye. He was still chewing on the inside of his cheek. “What?” she said, a little more savagely than she’d meant to.
He raised his hands. “I didn’t say anything.” Then he began humming under his breath.
Dimple recognized the song just as the elevator doors slid open on the first floor. Hum tum, ek kamre mein bandh ho, aur chaavi kho jaaye. . . . It was a popular old Hindi song, about a couple who’re shut away in a room when the keys go missing. Dimple slapped Rishi on his upper arm as they walked toward the doors. “Very funny.”
He burst out laughing, and her heart lifted in mirth in spite of her still bubbling irritation. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. She’s just being your mom.”
“Exactly,” Dimple mumbled as they strode across the lobby and outside. It was sort of nice that she didn’t need to explain the hovering, how it really came from a place of love. Rishi got that this was just what moms and dads did in their world.
Dimple took a deep breath, acrid smog and wet mist and herby eucalyptus all mixing together in her lungs. Groups of people and a few couples milled around, all laughing and joking and calling out to each other, some obviously already intoxicated, heading off campus for the weekend.
Dimple began to climb the steep road off to their right that led off campus, imagining that they were going to a restaurant nearby, but Rishi put a hand on her arm.
“Wait a sec.” Casually, Rishi grabbed Dimple’s hand and they crossed the road.
She tried not to show how flustered she felt, or how much she liked the feel of his big, warm, blunt fingers loosely grasping hers. “Um, where are we going?”
Rishi gestured to a glossy black convertible with the top down. As they got closer, the doors beeped. “Our chariot awaits.”
Tossing Rishi a dazed look, Dimple climbed in. When Rishi had shut her door and hopped in his side, she asked, “You drive a Beemer ?”
Rishi looked at her innocently. “What?”
Dimple snorted. “Nothing. It’s just that normal people usually take the bus when they want to go somewhere far.”
He looked genuinely uncomfortable as he pulled out of the space. “The bus. Right.”
Feeling a little sorry for him, Dimple adjusted her tone from mocking to gently teasing . “This is really flashy for a non-date.”
Rishi grinned and rubbed the back of his neck, accelerating as they climbed a steep hill. “What are you talking about? Yesterday I ordered a stretch limo when I wanted to run to the store to buy a pack of gum. Isn’t that what everyone does?”
Dimple laughed. “Totally. Sometimes I’ll even order a private jet.”
They were quiet for a moment, feeling the wind in their hair, and then Dimple said, “So, where are we going?”
Rishi shook his head. “Still a surprise. I think you’ll like it, though.”
There wasn’t a single place, Dimple realized, that she didn’t want to go right now. Not because she wasn’t picky, but because she could go pretty much anywhere with Rishi and enjoy herself. The realization was alarming. Concerning. And not altogether unwelcome.
• • •
The glitzy car dipped and reached, engine purring as it climbed the ubiquitous San Francisco hills. Rishi had turned on the seat warmers when he saw Dimple shivering lightly in the wind, so she was now perfectly comfortable. Dimple watched the buildings of the campus recede as they wound deeper into what looked like a residential district. Squat houses in pastel colors lined the road like rows of sidewalk chalk. Little potted plants decorated their stone porch stairs. An elderly man walking a little white dog looked curiously at them as they passed.
They came to a stop at a red light. “I feel like a celebrity.” Dimple smiled and turned—and found Rishi watching her, unabashed. When their gazes locked, he flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink. But he didn’t look away. And Dimple didn’t look away. She . . . couldn’t.
The moment stretched out, soft and gauzy tangling with dark and heavy. Dimple began to notice other things; how close her bare arm was to his. The heat his body was putting out. The way he smelled—like sunshine and something woodsy and boy.
Rishi rubbed the back of his neck and somehow shifted subtly forward. The only reason she really noticed was that his arm was now rubbing against hers. Something inside her went melty and warm. His eyes were all she could see as he leaned forward. Dimple found her lips parting, involuntarily, even as she thought, This is distinctly not non-date behavior.
The SUV behind them honked. The light had turned green. Rishi started and turned away, the moment gone.
CHAPTER 32
Rishi cleared his throat as they sped down the road. Dimple adjusted her dress awkwardly, wondering if he was just as disappointed as she was. That was twice that a kissable moment had been thwarted.
A moment later Rishi signaled left and pulled up to the curb. Hopping out of his seat, he ran over to open her door, ever chivalrous. Neither of them said anything. There was a little charge of electricity in the air, that feeling of pressure right before a storm. Dimple’s pulse raced. Did Rishi feel the same? His face was impassive; she couldn’t say.
Silently, they crossed the little street together, heading toward a bank of narrow storefronts—mostly clothing and record stores—on the other side. Rishi led her toward a greenish-blue storefront. The sign outside read TWO SISTERS BAR AND BOOKS .
“Bar and books?” Dimple pushed her glasses up on her nose, feeling fingers of curiosity tap their way along her skin. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Rishi twinkled at her. “You’ll see.”
• • •
The place was just as amazing as when Rishi had come here earlier in the week to scope it out. The vintage, Victorian-style red-and-tan wallpaper, the smell of old book glue, the clink of glasses and hum of quiet conversations and occasional laughter . . . it was just quirky and different enough to be worthy of Dimple. It was exactly what he’d wanted for their first non-date. Now that it was dusk outside, the store had turned on the hanging lights, and thanks to them and the pink wallpaper, everything was cast with a pink-gold glow.
Dimple was staring at the bar and the bookshelves, openmouthed. Rishi suppressed a self-satisfied chuckle. Oh, yes. Dimple’s mind could be considered 100 percent blown. Well done, Patel. “So is this a bar? A restaurant? With books inside it?”
Rishi grinned. “Yeah. The owners get these really cool editions from all over the world. So you can just sip, eat, and read, I guess.”
Dimple raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You know we’re not old enough to drink, right?”
“They can make everything virgin,” Rishi said. “I asked.”
Dimple got a funny look on her face as her smile faded. “You asked? When?”
“A few days ago, when I came in here to check it out.”
There was something in Dimple’s eyes he couldn’t read. She looked away, fiddling with the strap of her bag, and Rishi wondered if he’d said something wrong. When she didn’t say anything, he continued, less surely. “So you can look around at the books, pick something up if you like. But ah, I also . . .” He paused, wondering if he should actually tell her. Her face, her expression . . . something was off. Did she think he was overplanning it? Putting too much thought into it? Was this all too much for her?
Dimple looked back at him, questioning. “You also what?”
