There's Something About Sweetie(55)

He was doing his trademark smolder-smirk; she could see it in her peripheral vision. It was 30 percent smirk and 70 percent smolder, and she didn’t even have fire protection in the car. She tried not to let her breath catch. “Of course I’ll come,” he said.

“Really?”

“Definitely. I want you guys to get new jerseys, come on. Plus, I heard about it already at Richmond and was planning to ask you if you wanted to go.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face. A bonus date-but-not-really with Ashish Patel. She liked that idea. A lot.

“So do you want to come to my house to go together?”

Sweetie licked her lips. “Uh, about that. Actually, I’m going to have to go a bit early. I’m sort of … in one of the bands.”

“Get out!” Ashish looked especially delighted. “What do you play?”

“I’m the lead singer.” Sweetie tried not to grimace at how pretentious that sounded. “Only because Kayla and the others twisted my arm.”

“You’re joking. Would you believe it if I told you I was the lead singer in my middle school band? We were the Burning Bow Ties.”

Sweetie gave him the side eye. “Oh yeah? How do I know you’re not just trying to steal my thunder?”

Ashish raised an eyebrow. “If I was trying to steal your thunder, would I do it with the Burning Bow Ties?”

She laughed. “Okay, but you’re going to have to convince me. Sing me something.”

“Right now?”

“Uh-huh. Why? Are you scared?”

“Okay, okay, I will. But only if you accompany me.”

Crap. Sweetie wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “No. I don’t want to.”

“Sweetie. You’re going to be singing in front of a bunch of people on Band Night.”

“Yeah, but I’ll have the girls to back me up, other bands will be there … it won’t be a one-on-one thing.”

“Come on. I’m backing you up now.”

She sighed. “Okay, fine. What should we sing?”

“You pick the song.”

“How’s your Hindi?”

“Passable. But Hindi songs? I slay them, not gonna lie.”

Sweetie took a deep breath. Then she began to sing.





CHAPTER 20





Ashish watched Sweetie openmouthed. She was singing that song “Meherbaan” from that movie, oh, what was it? Oh, yeah. Bang Bang!, with Hrithik Roshan. When he’d first heard the song in the movie, he’d liked it. It was a little sappy, but whatever. It was nice.

But now? It was like listening to music for the very first time. It was like warm gold being poured into the vessel of his soul.

He listened with every fiber of every muscle. He listened so intently, he forgot who he was.




Sweetie stopped abruptly and looked at Ashish, her heart racing. Why wasn’t he singing along? Oh God. What if he hated her voice? Most people liked it, but music was such a subjective thing.

Um. Why was he staring at her like that?

“Ashish?”

“Yeah?” His voice was slightly foggy or something, like he’d been daydreaming. He blinked. When he spoke, his voice was normal. “Uh, yeah?”

“You’re not singing with me.”

He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “Oh, y-yeah, right. I’ll … I’ll sing. Ready?”

She nodded and began her stanza again, and this time he joined in.

Maybe choosing a song about someone falling in love and trying to decipher what it all means wasn’t the slickest thing she could’ve done. But the song had just popped out and she’d gone with it without thinking about it too much. But even that was just at the back of her mind. What Sweetie fully noticed was how gorgeous Ashish’s baritone really was. His voice was smooth silk scraping against sandpaper. It was inarguably beautiful.

Sweetie smiled to herself as they sang together, their voices dipping and tangling, soaring and falling. This was pretty near perfect, and their date had only just begun. Listening to Ashish sing in Hindi, Sweetie realized something: This was no longer just about the Sassy Sweetie Project anymore. She was falling for this boy.

They pulled up to Oakley Field just as they finished the encore version of the song (which they pretended adoring fans had asked them to do).

“So, people,” Ashish said, holding an imaginary mic to his mouth as Sweetie put the car in park in the busy parking lot. “Who sang it better? Ashish Patel”—here he made a noise in the back of his throat like thousands of adoring fans cheering—“or Sweetie Nair?” The crowd in the back of Ashish’s throat went waaayyyy wild. He bowed his head, conceding defeat. “The crowd does not lie.” He looked up at her, doing his smolder-smirk. “Your voice is seriously koyal quality.”

Koyal was the Hindi word for a bird that sang the most melodious songs. Sweetie smiled down at her hands. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” She looked up at him. “You should sing at Band Night too.”

Ashish laughed and held up his hands. “I’d rather just come and drink all the half-price coffee, honestly. My singing days died with the Burning Bow Ties.”

They got out and walked past a booth where people were selling colored powders. Ashish insisted on paying, as usual, and they bought a packet of each color, ranging from a sizzling violet that almost made Sweetie’s eyes water to a rich bottle green to a brilliant mustard yellow.