When Dimple Met Rishi
Page 50
“Did you know seventy-eight percent of the winners of the talent show have also gone on to win Insomnia Con?” she said, pausing the laptop to adjust her headband.
“Yes, I did know, my sweet,” Rishi said, kissing the side of her head. “You’ve told me about seventy-eight thousand times.”
Ashish snorted from behind the camera, but Dimple silenced him with a glare. “Are you still recording? Shouldn’t you pause when we’re not dancing? Aren’t you running out of space?”
Ashish looked at her quizzically. “You ask a lot of questions when you’re nervous.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’m uploading all of these to the cloud, so they’re not being stored on my phone. We have a megaton of video, so that was the best option.”
“‘A megaton’ is right.” They’d spent a good four hours the night before watching videos from their “training sessions,” as Ashish was calling them, or “torture sessions,” according to Rishi. He insisted Ashish had gone all Coach Taylor/Friday Night Lights on them.
But Dimple liked the amount of effort Ashish put into coaching them. He had a natural eye for choreography, and everything he said sort of clicked for her. She knew they had a much stronger routine now than they’d had at the beginning. It was funny and fun, quirky, and just cool enough to get the votes they needed.
Rishi ran a hand along her cheek. “It’s going to be okay. Even if we don’t win, we’ll have tried our hearts out. That’s all we can do.”
She put a hand over his. “I know. But I want it so much. We have to win this, you know? Not just this talent show, but Insomnia Con. We have to.”
He shook his head, a little bewildered. “But why? You’re so talented, Dimple. Even if you don’t win this one contest, you’re going to go on to do amazing things. This app is going to change lives.”
“I know. That’s why I want it to get the best possible chance it can.” She looked deep into his eyes, trying to get him to see what she saw. “This app can help people like Papa—I have no doubt in my mind. That’s not me being arrogant; that’s just what living with someone with diabetes has taught me. I’ve seen it encroach on his life. I’ve seen what it did to him. He tries to hide it, but the anxiety is real. And winning Insomnia Con is going to help me get to Jenny Lindt, the one person I know can help me get it out to a wider audience. She’s amazing, Rishi. You guys are probably tired of hearing me say it, but she is. I feel like just being in her presence will help me make my app better, let alone if she decides to help us build and market it.” Dimple laughed, realizing how intense she’d gotten, like she always did when she talked about coding or Jenny Lindt. She was even clutching Rishi’s arm in a death grip. “Sorry,” she said, loosening her stiff fingers.
“That’s okay, it’s my left arm,” he deadpanned. “Don’t need it anyway.” He began to dance around to the steps of “Dance Pe Chance,” his left arm stiff against his body. “See? It works either way.”
Dimple laughed and threw a pillow at him. “Stop it.” She took a breath. “Let’s practice.”
“Finally,” Ashish said from behind the camera, “I thought you two were never going to get serious.”
CHAPTER 46
About an hour and a half later they’d been through the dance once, watched the video once, and then done the dance again. Dimple stretched out her sore muscles. There was a light coating of sweat all over her. “I’m going take a shower. I think we’re well rehearsed, don’t you?” she asked Ashish.
“Yes,” he said confidently. “You don’t want to overdo it. I think now you guys just need to relax.”
“Thank gods,” Rishi groaned, falling backward on the bed.
Dimple laughed and poked him on the knee with a toe. “Gross. You’re all sweaty and now your sheets are going to smell like sweat.”
He sat up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down on top of him. “You know you love it,” he said, nuzzling her neck. Goose bumps sprouted all over her body as the conversation they’d had last weekend after Rios floated into memory.
“All right, I’m out,” Ashish said, behind them. “You guys need to get a room.”
Dimple looked over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. Rishi laughed in her ear, his breath tickling.
“Oh, right,” Ashish said, looking around, running a hand through his rumpled hair. “This is your room. Whatever. I’m hungry. I’m going to get lunch at that taco food truck. You guys want anything?”
They shook their heads at him, and he left, shutting the door behind him.
Dimple turned back to Rishi in the silence. She was still lying on top of him, her soft lines molded to his hard ones. She could smell him, warm and soapy, with just a hint of musk. She shifted a little, and he made a noise in the back of his throat. Dimple was acutely aware that she could feel . . . something. Against her thigh. The realization made her joints feel warm and loose, liquid. She leaned up and kissed Rishi, her tongue falling against his with a fervor that surprised her.
After a minute of his hands on her back and bottom, and hers wherever she could find space—on his face, in his hair, on his amazing shoulders—Rishi pulled her back a little. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said, breathing hard. His eyes were deep and dark, nearly all pupil.
She put her mouth on his again. “Why?” she said against it.
He turned his head and groaned. “We haven’t finished our discussion from Rios. And you’re driving me insane. It’s going to be hard to stop if we keep going. I mean, it’s already hard.” Rishi turned to her suddenly, studying her smile. “That’s not what I meant.”
She laughed and stroked his jaw with a finger, reveling in how his eyelids fluttered close. “We don’t need to talk. I’ve thought about what you said that night.”
He looked at her again, serious. “And?”
“And . . . I want you, Rishi. Now.” Dimple couldn’t believe the words had actually left her mouth. Was this what lust was? Did it turn you into this brazen, dauntless person who asked for what she wanted in spite of usually being racked with social anxiety? Maybe Dimple ought to spend more time in a state of frenzied desire.
Rishi stared at her. “You want . . . so are you saying you want to have sex?”
She put her mouth on his earlobe, feeling it with her lips. “I mean, why not? We’re consenting adults. We’ve thought about it. We have a room to ourselves. We like each other. . . .” Dimple pulled back and looked at him sternly. “Right? You like me? This isn’t just an elaborate ploy to get into my pants?”
Rishi looked actually offended. “What? Of course not! You know I would never—”
Dimple laughed. “Relax, I’m just kidding.” She put her head on his chest, listening to the thump-thump of his heart. It was solid, strong, trustworthy. She traced a finger from the hollow of his throat to his breastbone. “I’m ready if you are.”
His hand moved to her hair, gently cupping the back of her head. “What about your parents?”
She made a face that she was sure he would be able to see in her tone. “Um, I’d rather we left them out of this.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. “No, I mean, won’t they be disappointed? My parents would be. They’re huge on not having sex until you’re married. Once a cousin of mine was visiting with his fiancée, and they asked to sleep in the same room. I thought Pappa would die of an apoplectic fit. He gave them this huge lecture on how they were letting down their parents, him and Ma, and all of the gods and goddesses.”
Dimple snorted. “That was probably an interesting conversation to overhear. How old were you?”
“Like eleven or twelve. I was just disappointed I wouldn’t get the chance to press my ear up to their wall to hear something good later.”
“Ew.” Dimple slapped him lightly on the chest, and he laughed. “Well,” she said, “Mamma has always talked to me about the evils of boys. I don’t think she was ever too worried though. I never had a legion of guys coming around. If anything, I think she’s always been worried that I’ll end up alone with a herd of cats.” She leaned up on one elbow and looked Rishi in the eye. “But it doesn’t matter to me anyway. This is between you and me. This is our decision. Why should we think about our parents?”
“Yes, I did know, my sweet,” Rishi said, kissing the side of her head. “You’ve told me about seventy-eight thousand times.”
Ashish snorted from behind the camera, but Dimple silenced him with a glare. “Are you still recording? Shouldn’t you pause when we’re not dancing? Aren’t you running out of space?”
Ashish looked at her quizzically. “You ask a lot of questions when you’re nervous.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’m uploading all of these to the cloud, so they’re not being stored on my phone. We have a megaton of video, so that was the best option.”
“‘A megaton’ is right.” They’d spent a good four hours the night before watching videos from their “training sessions,” as Ashish was calling them, or “torture sessions,” according to Rishi. He insisted Ashish had gone all Coach Taylor/Friday Night Lights on them.
But Dimple liked the amount of effort Ashish put into coaching them. He had a natural eye for choreography, and everything he said sort of clicked for her. She knew they had a much stronger routine now than they’d had at the beginning. It was funny and fun, quirky, and just cool enough to get the votes they needed.
Rishi ran a hand along her cheek. “It’s going to be okay. Even if we don’t win, we’ll have tried our hearts out. That’s all we can do.”
She put a hand over his. “I know. But I want it so much. We have to win this, you know? Not just this talent show, but Insomnia Con. We have to.”
He shook his head, a little bewildered. “But why? You’re so talented, Dimple. Even if you don’t win this one contest, you’re going to go on to do amazing things. This app is going to change lives.”
“I know. That’s why I want it to get the best possible chance it can.” She looked deep into his eyes, trying to get him to see what she saw. “This app can help people like Papa—I have no doubt in my mind. That’s not me being arrogant; that’s just what living with someone with diabetes has taught me. I’ve seen it encroach on his life. I’ve seen what it did to him. He tries to hide it, but the anxiety is real. And winning Insomnia Con is going to help me get to Jenny Lindt, the one person I know can help me get it out to a wider audience. She’s amazing, Rishi. You guys are probably tired of hearing me say it, but she is. I feel like just being in her presence will help me make my app better, let alone if she decides to help us build and market it.” Dimple laughed, realizing how intense she’d gotten, like she always did when she talked about coding or Jenny Lindt. She was even clutching Rishi’s arm in a death grip. “Sorry,” she said, loosening her stiff fingers.
“That’s okay, it’s my left arm,” he deadpanned. “Don’t need it anyway.” He began to dance around to the steps of “Dance Pe Chance,” his left arm stiff against his body. “See? It works either way.”
Dimple laughed and threw a pillow at him. “Stop it.” She took a breath. “Let’s practice.”
“Finally,” Ashish said from behind the camera, “I thought you two were never going to get serious.”
CHAPTER 46
About an hour and a half later they’d been through the dance once, watched the video once, and then done the dance again. Dimple stretched out her sore muscles. There was a light coating of sweat all over her. “I’m going take a shower. I think we’re well rehearsed, don’t you?” she asked Ashish.
“Yes,” he said confidently. “You don’t want to overdo it. I think now you guys just need to relax.”
“Thank gods,” Rishi groaned, falling backward on the bed.
Dimple laughed and poked him on the knee with a toe. “Gross. You’re all sweaty and now your sheets are going to smell like sweat.”
He sat up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down on top of him. “You know you love it,” he said, nuzzling her neck. Goose bumps sprouted all over her body as the conversation they’d had last weekend after Rios floated into memory.
“All right, I’m out,” Ashish said, behind them. “You guys need to get a room.”
Dimple looked over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. Rishi laughed in her ear, his breath tickling.
“Oh, right,” Ashish said, looking around, running a hand through his rumpled hair. “This is your room. Whatever. I’m hungry. I’m going to get lunch at that taco food truck. You guys want anything?”
They shook their heads at him, and he left, shutting the door behind him.
Dimple turned back to Rishi in the silence. She was still lying on top of him, her soft lines molded to his hard ones. She could smell him, warm and soapy, with just a hint of musk. She shifted a little, and he made a noise in the back of his throat. Dimple was acutely aware that she could feel . . . something. Against her thigh. The realization made her joints feel warm and loose, liquid. She leaned up and kissed Rishi, her tongue falling against his with a fervor that surprised her.
After a minute of his hands on her back and bottom, and hers wherever she could find space—on his face, in his hair, on his amazing shoulders—Rishi pulled her back a little. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said, breathing hard. His eyes were deep and dark, nearly all pupil.
She put her mouth on his again. “Why?” she said against it.
He turned his head and groaned. “We haven’t finished our discussion from Rios. And you’re driving me insane. It’s going to be hard to stop if we keep going. I mean, it’s already hard.” Rishi turned to her suddenly, studying her smile. “That’s not what I meant.”
She laughed and stroked his jaw with a finger, reveling in how his eyelids fluttered close. “We don’t need to talk. I’ve thought about what you said that night.”
He looked at her again, serious. “And?”
“And . . . I want you, Rishi. Now.” Dimple couldn’t believe the words had actually left her mouth. Was this what lust was? Did it turn you into this brazen, dauntless person who asked for what she wanted in spite of usually being racked with social anxiety? Maybe Dimple ought to spend more time in a state of frenzied desire.
Rishi stared at her. “You want . . . so are you saying you want to have sex?”
She put her mouth on his earlobe, feeling it with her lips. “I mean, why not? We’re consenting adults. We’ve thought about it. We have a room to ourselves. We like each other. . . .” Dimple pulled back and looked at him sternly. “Right? You like me? This isn’t just an elaborate ploy to get into my pants?”
Rishi looked actually offended. “What? Of course not! You know I would never—”
Dimple laughed. “Relax, I’m just kidding.” She put her head on his chest, listening to the thump-thump of his heart. It was solid, strong, trustworthy. She traced a finger from the hollow of his throat to his breastbone. “I’m ready if you are.”
His hand moved to her hair, gently cupping the back of her head. “What about your parents?”
She made a face that she was sure he would be able to see in her tone. “Um, I’d rather we left them out of this.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. “No, I mean, won’t they be disappointed? My parents would be. They’re huge on not having sex until you’re married. Once a cousin of mine was visiting with his fiancée, and they asked to sleep in the same room. I thought Pappa would die of an apoplectic fit. He gave them this huge lecture on how they were letting down their parents, him and Ma, and all of the gods and goddesses.”
Dimple snorted. “That was probably an interesting conversation to overhear. How old were you?”
“Like eleven or twelve. I was just disappointed I wouldn’t get the chance to press my ear up to their wall to hear something good later.”
“Ew.” Dimple slapped him lightly on the chest, and he laughed. “Well,” she said, “Mamma has always talked to me about the evils of boys. I don’t think she was ever too worried though. I never had a legion of guys coming around. If anything, I think she’s always been worried that I’ll end up alone with a herd of cats.” She leaned up on one elbow and looked Rishi in the eye. “But it doesn’t matter to me anyway. This is between you and me. This is our decision. Why should we think about our parents?”
