There's Something About Sweetie(68)

She had just missed the basket, earning her an S, when he began to lope toward her in the darkness, his eyes strangely intent. She straightened up, leaving the ball on the ground. “I—I still have an E left,” she said hoarsely, though why she didn’t know. If he was going to collect now, that was A-OK with her.

“I know,” Ashish said softly, coming to stand so close to her, she could feel his body heat through her clothes. “I have a question, though.”

His honey-colored eyes were hypnotizing in the dim light, twin planets she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by.

“Okay.”

He took another step closer. Their clothes brushed against each other. It felt like Sweetie’s heart was tap-dancing its way out of her chest. “All those songs … you picked them.”

Sweetie nodded, suddenly feeling a mixture of embarrassment and panic. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. He’d noticed.

“They’re all songs about first love,” Ashish said quietly, not breaking his gaze.

Sweetie swallowed. She wanted to look away, but she was frozen, helpless. “That’s … that’s not a question,” she said finally, her voice just a husky whisper. Her cheeks burned.

Ashish put two fingers under her chin. She forced herself to hold still. “Sweetie Nair,” he said, bending his head so their lips were less than a finger’s breadth apart. “I really don’t deserve you.”

Her breath was coming faster. Sweetie knew what she wanted to say; the words were building behind her teeth, like a veritable ocean wave. But could she say them? Could she put herself out there like that, be honest and vulnerable? She thought of the Sassy Sweetie Project. How the whole point was to be brave in every facet of her life. How much she wanted to be that girl, the one living her life proudly and bravely, the one who wasn’t afraid to get a little dinged with rejection. The one who’d pick herself up again, no matter what, because she knew that what she had to offer the world was spectacular. So she forced the words out, shaking her head. “That’s not true. You’re … you’re the real thing, Ashish. You like to show everyone this cocky, arrogant front, but I see the real you. I see you, and you’re sweet and funny and stubborn and vulnerable. You love with everything you have, and when you get hurt, you curl around yourself to protect the softest parts of you.” She put a hand on his cheek, felt the stubble and the strong jaw there. Goose bumps broke out on her arms and legs. “But you don’t have to do that with me. I won’t hurt you.” She paused, almost panting with the effort of keeping pace with her drumming heart. “And I … I think you know that. I think you’re falling for me, too.”

He stared at her for another long moment, and she began to wonder if she’d made a big mistake. If she’d misjudged. He had told her he was still kind of hung up on Celia, after all. What if he thought she was being presumptuous? But then Ashish smiled. A soft, sad thing, a wisp of a smile, really. “Oh, Sweetie,” he whispered, bringing his mouth to hers fully. “How could I not?”

And then they were kissing and melting and sighing, and Sweetie was completely lost to the world.




There was no lie in anything Sweetie had just said. Even as he kissed her, Ashish played her words over in his head—he was falling for her. He did know that she’d never hurt him, at least not intentionally. But here’s what Sweetie hadn’t said, and what Ashish knew to be true: He was still desperately, deathly scared, as uncool as it was to even admit that to himself. He was afraid of what would happen if he fell harder and faster and deeper than he was already falling. He was afraid of what it said about him that before this he’d had one serious relationship, which had ended in fire and flames. He was afraid that what he wanted to say to Celia, what he planned to say to her very soon, would go badly, that somehow he’d say his piece and still not have any closure.

So when he said, “How could I not?” he meant, How could I not love someone as miraculous, as perfect as you? But he also meant, How could I not expect things to go 100 percent wrong in the end in spite of falling for you? Ashish had a track record, and it wasn’t a good one. Ashish was, in fact, terrified that every relationship of his was doomed to utter and spectacular failure, and that this one with Sweetie was no different.

But how could he say that to Sweetie? He wanted to laugh at the thought of it. Talk about an anti-aphrodisiac. Talk about killing things before they’d even begun.

So Ashish held his doubts and his mojolessness close to his vest, and he stood there, all alone in his cold, dismal pessimism. And then he pushed it all aside because he was here with her in this moment, and he was determined to enjoy it, dammit. Whatever happened in the future, whether he got his closure or not, Ashish was here with Sweetie now, and that was an incredible gift. He pulled her closer and kissed her deeper.




They lay in the cool grass together. They’d kissed so long, Sweetie’s cheeks were slightly raw from being scraped by Ashish’s stubble. She didn’t care, though. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of his hard chest under her head, the feeling of his strong arm around her. She played with his hand as she looked up at the hazy sky and smiled.

“Ashish,” she said.

“Hmm?” He sounded sleepy and happy, exactly like she felt.

“What’s it like having a brother?”