Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(35)

When they reached two dozen, Prem’s stomach was cramping, and he felt like he was about to have water gushing out of his eyeballs. But he refused to give up just yet. This was about his honor now.

As Prem pushed another through his lips, he watched Kareena do the same. Her eyes teared up, and she bit down on the shell.

He barely managed to swallow one more and knew that the nausea was a bad sign. The satiety reflux triggered a long time ago and was now prompting vomit if he had any more. Prem had to stop. He collapsed back against his seat.

“I’m out,” he croaked. Someone dabbed a napkin to his forehead.

The crowd that had assembled around him booed.

Prem watched as Kareena’s fingers trembled. She grabbed one of the last remaining shells on the tray and cracked it easily. It took her a few seconds to scrape the last of the fillings out of their bowls and fill the shell. And her forehead was dewy.

“This is the winning pani puri,” the owner whispered. “If you eat this, you are the champion.”

Kareena tilted her bowl to pour the rest of her water into the shell, then shoved it into her mouth.

She chewed, then swallowed.

The restaurant waited. No one made a sound.

Kareena got shakily to her feet, then raised both fists in the air. “I win!”

The room erupted in cheers and applause.

Uncles patted her on the back, aunties cheered her on by whistling. The owner handed her a gift card to the restaurant for fifty dollars and thanked her for such a great impromptu show.

Prem knew he was grinning ear to ear. He couldn’t help it. She had so much joy on her face. It was the kind of expression that turned her from sexy into stunning. It was also the expression that told him this woman was going to get exactly what she wanted.

Kareena dabbed her face with a napkin and tossed it on the table. “Thank you for a . . . fun non-date, Dr. Prem Verma.”

Prem slowly got to his feet. He leaned over the table, across empty dishes and plates, and ignoring her wide-eyed expression, as well as the gasps from those still watching, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. He tasted the salty tang of the pani puri water and felt her soft skin. “Next time we’re going out on a real date.”

When her cheeks flushed, he knew that he’d gotten her.

That’s right, he thought. Match point.





Chapter Eleven

Kareena




User 567900: Hey there

Kareena: Hey

User 567900: You look familiar. Do you do porn?

Kareena: BLOCK





Trevor: Hey. I like your profile!

Kareena: Thanks! I like yours.

Trevor: Awesome. Wanna fuck?

Kareena: BLOCK





Guru: Hey

Kareena: Hey

Guru: What’s good?

Kareena: Uh, nothing. Just getting off work now.

Kareena: Hello?

Kareena: You know what? Fair enough. I’ve ghosted people, too.

Guru: BLOCK





Satyam: Hey. How’s it going?

Kareena: Not bad. How are you?

Satyam: I’m great. I mean, other than being online.

Kareena: Oh, I know what you mean.

Satyam: So would it be weird if I gave your number to my mom?

Satyam: She wants to make sure you’re legit and from a good family

Satyam: She also thinks that “looking for true love”’ is cliché on your profile. And that you need to lower your standards a bit, and that I may also be too good for you. Also, she thinks you look familiar.

Kareena: BLOCK





Prem: Hey, how goes wedding dress shopping?

Kareena: Fine. I’m swiping on dating profiles while I’m waiting, so it’s productive.

Prem: I told you, you should just go out with me. You already know that I can keep up with you in a pani puri battle.

Kareena: But can you give me what I need?

Prem: Did you know that romantic love wasn’t even a factor in marriages until the late eighteenth century? And not just for South Asians.

Kareena: I’ll take that as a no.

Prem: I can buy you time for your house. Isn’t that what you want?





Kareena read Prem’s last text message over again. She had no idea what she was supposed to say to him or what she was supposed to do.

He’d texted a couple times since their pani puri–eating competition, and every time his name appeared on her phone screen, her mouth tingled in memory.

“Who was that?” Bobbi asked. She sat back against the plush seat of the velvet couch, her cell phone in one hand and a flute of champagne in another.

“Prem.”

“Ahh,” Bobbi said.

Kareena glared at her. “Ahh. What does ‘Ahh’ mean? You don’t make sound effects and faces like that without a double meaning.”

Bobbi shrugged. “It means ‘Ahh.’” She put her phone and champagne down on the large glass coffee table in front of them. “It’s just that you’ve been spending a lot of time talking to Prem when you guys were screaming at each other in a viral video a month ago. And before that, you were texting us, cursing him, because he lied to you at a bar to get in your pants, then left you horny in a stranger’s office. By the way, I wish you’d taken a look around that office. I’ve been trying to get Benjamin Padda’s attention for ages.”