When Dimple Met Rishi
Page 53
“You guys ready?” Max asked, looking from Rishi to Dimple. His smile, hidden snugly behind his beard and mustache, faded slightly as he took in her face. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, “You’re going to be great. You’re rehearsed. Just go out there and have fun.”
Oh great. She was one of the hand on the shoulder people. Dimple nodded, gulped, and smiled.
“Two minutes, okay?” He patted Rishi on the back and turned on his heel to wait for Louis and Connor to finish their magician’s act. From the scattered applause, it didn’t sound like it was going so well so far.
“Oh God,” Dimple said, clutching her stomach. Her newly straightened hair fell into her face. “What if they start booing us? Should we finish? Or should we just bow and walk out? I mean, it’s so undignified to keep performing while people boo, right? Or what if they throw stuff? I’ve heard those theater students can be heartless because their standards are so high. . . .”
“Don’t worry,” Rishi said, stretching his arms above his head. How the heck did he look so relaxed? How? “I’ll be your body shield.”
She glared at him. “Not funny, Patel.”
CHAPTER 49
Rishi didn’t understand how Dimple could be so nervous. They’d watched the rehearsal videos together. She was amazing, so apsara -like, he felt bad for the other performers. They may as well just pack up and go home now.
He ran a finger down her arm and reveled in the way goose bumps sprouted on her skin. She was so incredibly beautiful, even then, with that frenzied, nervous energy emanating from her. Her eyes were wild behind her glasses (she’d refused to consider taking them off for the dance, afraid she’d tumble right off the stage, even though her eyes weren’t that bad), and she kept swallowing compulsively. She was probably so full of air she’d lift off the stage like a balloon, Rishi thought with a smile. But he probably shouldn’t tell her that.
He wrapped his hand around Dimple’s as they walked to the wings. They heard Louis and Connor finishing up, the audience clapping halfheartedly. Max turned and winked before walking out onstage to introduce them.
“There are so many people here,” Dimple murmured, peeking through a little opening at the audience.
Rishi took the chance to steal one last look at her. He didn’t care about this whole talent show thing very much, not beyond the fact that it mattered to Dimple. He was lucky; his lack of caring made him supremely un-nervous. He watched the tiny pulse fluttering at Dimple’s neck, the way her shoulders were bunched up around her ears. She wanted this so much. So, so much.
He leaned in and kissed her temple. “Tujhme rab dikhta hai,” he whispered, an over-the-top line from the movie their song came from. It meant I see God in you . He watched her smile and roll her eyes. And then he said, “I love you.”
She jumped and turned to look at him, eyes wide, just as Max announced their names. Rishi grinned and pulled her onstage.
It was dark while they took their positions. Dimple looked at the outline of Rishi next to her. She heard the near absolute silence of people in the audience. A few shifted; someone coughed. She felt herself breathe.
I love you.
He’d really, finally said the words. Rishi loved her. When the lights came on, Dimple was smiling.
The music began and Dimple started to move. She knew Rishi was doing his part, but she wasn’t focused on him. She wasn’t focused on what the audience was looking at. She just kept moving the way she’d been practicing all week, the way her body knew she should move. And mixed in with the music and the beat, she kept hearing, I love you. I love you. I love you.
Then the song was over. She and Rishi came together to bow. And the theater cracked open with applause.
They ran offstage together the moment the spotlights went off. Dimple was giggling so hard, Rishi was worried she’d keel over. They were holding hands again, but this time, she was the one pulling them offstage.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. We did it.”
He smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You did it. You were incredible.”
She turned to him as they made their way to the dressing room, stopping right beside a couple of people stretching their hamstrings, who paused to give them thumbs-up signs before resuming their stretches. “I love you.” Her eyes were emitting so much light they’d gone supernova.
Rishi’s heart exploded into a thousand colors. The world was on fire. He put his hands on her face and kissed her like he might never have the chance again. Dimple kissed him back, mouth pressed against his with a fevered hunger. He tasted salt from her sweat. When they broke apart, Rishi grinned. “I knew, though.”
She laughed and clutched his arm as they walked back and entered the dressing room. “Do you think we might win? Everyone seemed to love it. I really think we have a chance.”
“We totally have a chance. A really good one.”
“Great job, guys!” It was Ashish, loping toward them, grinning.
Dimple spun around. “Did you really think so? Was it good?”
“Was it good?” Ashish held out his phone. “Check it out for yourselves, dudes. You guys looked just like Anushka and Shah Rukh out there.” He played them a snippet.
Rishi was astounded. He’d known Dimple had looked good, but he’d been distracted by his own steps. Now, seeing it like Ashish had, he was blown away. She looked like a professional . Not like someone who’d decided to do this for a talent show, but like someone who did it all the time. Every step was fire; her hips were magic.
“You should be a dancer,” he said, and then whistled. “I mean, wow.”
She smiled and blushed adorably, swatting at him. “I’m so glad it looked okay. I really want to win that money.”
“You will,” Ashish said with absolute sincerity, and Rishi’s heart surged with love for his little brother.
Dimple was giddy with glee. She stood in front of the mirror, wiping her makeup off with remover José had given her. He seemed genuinely excited for Rishi and her, which she thought was sweet. Dimple could see, flush from the endorphins of a great performance, why actors and performers got addicted to this kind of thing. It had always seemed unfathomable to her, choosing a career where all you did was put yourself out in front of hundreds or thousands of people and risked rejection in real time. But if they felt even half of what she was feeling now when it went well . . .
Cackling laughter broke Dimple out of her reverie. She looked in the mirror to see Isabelle and Celia stumble in behind her, arms around each other, laughing and swaying, clearly drunk on something besides life. Celia’s face was red and sweaty, her usually buoyant curls stuck to the back of her neck and her forehead. She was wearing a hot pink leotard with a cotton ball tail and a headband with pink, glittery ears. She looked like she’d been dipped in body glitter. Isabelle was dressed in a black bikini that showed 98 percent of her skin, but she kept holding her arms in front of her chest and stomach, like maybe she wasn’t the one who’d chosen that particular outfit.
“Oh dear gods,” Rishi muttered next to her, his mouth twisting into a mixture of distaste and pity. “Celia’s trying to be a sexy bunny.”
“I wonder what the guys are dressed like,” Dimple said just as Evan and Hari walked in. They were, no surprise, both shirtless. Their six-packs (collective twelve-packs?) had been coated in bronzing oil. Dimple got a whiff from where she stood—it smelled like the word “tropical.” They wore surf shorts and their hair was carelessly bedheady.
Evan caught her eye and flashed her a thousand-watt grin. “Nice stretchy pants,” he said, half leering. “Too bad you got no booty to fill them out.”
Rishi stood up, hands balled at his sides. “What did you say?”
Dimple put a hand on his arm. “Not worth it,” she said, looking straight at Evan, who laughed and bumped fists with Hari before they kept moving.
Celia didn’t even spare her a glance. Dimple wasn’t sure she’d even seen her, but it still stung.
“Man, those singer guys just bombed so hard. I mean, they utterly and totally butchered ‘Hotel California,’” Ashish said, walking in with two bottles of water. He stopped when he caught sight of Celia and the Aberzombie group, his smile slowly fading.
Oh great. She was one of the hand on the shoulder people. Dimple nodded, gulped, and smiled.
“Two minutes, okay?” He patted Rishi on the back and turned on his heel to wait for Louis and Connor to finish their magician’s act. From the scattered applause, it didn’t sound like it was going so well so far.
“Oh God,” Dimple said, clutching her stomach. Her newly straightened hair fell into her face. “What if they start booing us? Should we finish? Or should we just bow and walk out? I mean, it’s so undignified to keep performing while people boo, right? Or what if they throw stuff? I’ve heard those theater students can be heartless because their standards are so high. . . .”
“Don’t worry,” Rishi said, stretching his arms above his head. How the heck did he look so relaxed? How? “I’ll be your body shield.”
She glared at him. “Not funny, Patel.”
CHAPTER 49
Rishi didn’t understand how Dimple could be so nervous. They’d watched the rehearsal videos together. She was amazing, so apsara -like, he felt bad for the other performers. They may as well just pack up and go home now.
He ran a finger down her arm and reveled in the way goose bumps sprouted on her skin. She was so incredibly beautiful, even then, with that frenzied, nervous energy emanating from her. Her eyes were wild behind her glasses (she’d refused to consider taking them off for the dance, afraid she’d tumble right off the stage, even though her eyes weren’t that bad), and she kept swallowing compulsively. She was probably so full of air she’d lift off the stage like a balloon, Rishi thought with a smile. But he probably shouldn’t tell her that.
He wrapped his hand around Dimple’s as they walked to the wings. They heard Louis and Connor finishing up, the audience clapping halfheartedly. Max turned and winked before walking out onstage to introduce them.
“There are so many people here,” Dimple murmured, peeking through a little opening at the audience.
Rishi took the chance to steal one last look at her. He didn’t care about this whole talent show thing very much, not beyond the fact that it mattered to Dimple. He was lucky; his lack of caring made him supremely un-nervous. He watched the tiny pulse fluttering at Dimple’s neck, the way her shoulders were bunched up around her ears. She wanted this so much. So, so much.
He leaned in and kissed her temple. “Tujhme rab dikhta hai,” he whispered, an over-the-top line from the movie their song came from. It meant I see God in you . He watched her smile and roll her eyes. And then he said, “I love you.”
She jumped and turned to look at him, eyes wide, just as Max announced their names. Rishi grinned and pulled her onstage.
It was dark while they took their positions. Dimple looked at the outline of Rishi next to her. She heard the near absolute silence of people in the audience. A few shifted; someone coughed. She felt herself breathe.
I love you.
He’d really, finally said the words. Rishi loved her. When the lights came on, Dimple was smiling.
The music began and Dimple started to move. She knew Rishi was doing his part, but she wasn’t focused on him. She wasn’t focused on what the audience was looking at. She just kept moving the way she’d been practicing all week, the way her body knew she should move. And mixed in with the music and the beat, she kept hearing, I love you. I love you. I love you.
Then the song was over. She and Rishi came together to bow. And the theater cracked open with applause.
They ran offstage together the moment the spotlights went off. Dimple was giggling so hard, Rishi was worried she’d keel over. They were holding hands again, but this time, she was the one pulling them offstage.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. We did it.”
He smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You did it. You were incredible.”
She turned to him as they made their way to the dressing room, stopping right beside a couple of people stretching their hamstrings, who paused to give them thumbs-up signs before resuming their stretches. “I love you.” Her eyes were emitting so much light they’d gone supernova.
Rishi’s heart exploded into a thousand colors. The world was on fire. He put his hands on her face and kissed her like he might never have the chance again. Dimple kissed him back, mouth pressed against his with a fevered hunger. He tasted salt from her sweat. When they broke apart, Rishi grinned. “I knew, though.”
She laughed and clutched his arm as they walked back and entered the dressing room. “Do you think we might win? Everyone seemed to love it. I really think we have a chance.”
“We totally have a chance. A really good one.”
“Great job, guys!” It was Ashish, loping toward them, grinning.
Dimple spun around. “Did you really think so? Was it good?”
“Was it good?” Ashish held out his phone. “Check it out for yourselves, dudes. You guys looked just like Anushka and Shah Rukh out there.” He played them a snippet.
Rishi was astounded. He’d known Dimple had looked good, but he’d been distracted by his own steps. Now, seeing it like Ashish had, he was blown away. She looked like a professional . Not like someone who’d decided to do this for a talent show, but like someone who did it all the time. Every step was fire; her hips were magic.
“You should be a dancer,” he said, and then whistled. “I mean, wow.”
She smiled and blushed adorably, swatting at him. “I’m so glad it looked okay. I really want to win that money.”
“You will,” Ashish said with absolute sincerity, and Rishi’s heart surged with love for his little brother.
Dimple was giddy with glee. She stood in front of the mirror, wiping her makeup off with remover José had given her. He seemed genuinely excited for Rishi and her, which she thought was sweet. Dimple could see, flush from the endorphins of a great performance, why actors and performers got addicted to this kind of thing. It had always seemed unfathomable to her, choosing a career where all you did was put yourself out in front of hundreds or thousands of people and risked rejection in real time. But if they felt even half of what she was feeling now when it went well . . .
Cackling laughter broke Dimple out of her reverie. She looked in the mirror to see Isabelle and Celia stumble in behind her, arms around each other, laughing and swaying, clearly drunk on something besides life. Celia’s face was red and sweaty, her usually buoyant curls stuck to the back of her neck and her forehead. She was wearing a hot pink leotard with a cotton ball tail and a headband with pink, glittery ears. She looked like she’d been dipped in body glitter. Isabelle was dressed in a black bikini that showed 98 percent of her skin, but she kept holding her arms in front of her chest and stomach, like maybe she wasn’t the one who’d chosen that particular outfit.
“Oh dear gods,” Rishi muttered next to her, his mouth twisting into a mixture of distaste and pity. “Celia’s trying to be a sexy bunny.”
“I wonder what the guys are dressed like,” Dimple said just as Evan and Hari walked in. They were, no surprise, both shirtless. Their six-packs (collective twelve-packs?) had been coated in bronzing oil. Dimple got a whiff from where she stood—it smelled like the word “tropical.” They wore surf shorts and their hair was carelessly bedheady.
Evan caught her eye and flashed her a thousand-watt grin. “Nice stretchy pants,” he said, half leering. “Too bad you got no booty to fill them out.”
Rishi stood up, hands balled at his sides. “What did you say?”
Dimple put a hand on his arm. “Not worth it,” she said, looking straight at Evan, who laughed and bumped fists with Hari before they kept moving.
Celia didn’t even spare her a glance. Dimple wasn’t sure she’d even seen her, but it still stung.
“Man, those singer guys just bombed so hard. I mean, they utterly and totally butchered ‘Hotel California,’” Ashish said, walking in with two bottles of water. He stopped when he caught sight of Celia and the Aberzombie group, his smile slowly fading.
