There's Something About Sweetie(96)

Sweetie smiled, and he actually grasped the banister, like she’d almost knocked him over.

Right. This was why she was doing all of it. Ashish Patel. He was not the only why, but he was a big part.

Sweetie descended the staircase toward his waiting arms.

“Hi,” she whispered, walking up as close to him as she dared.

He stepped closer, smiling down at her. “Hi.”

Her heart stuttered. He looked amazing. That shirt with those eyes—OMG. And he smelled … mmm. Lemons and something spicy. “You look—” she began just as he said, “Pulchritudinous.”

She paused and then laughed. “What?”

“It’s an SAT word I’ve always had trouble remembering. It means ‘beautiful,’” Ashish murmured, his eyes roving her face in a hungry way that made her bones all jellified. “But I don’t think I’ll forget again. You …” He shook his head. “You have the power to reduce me to vapor.” He trailed a finger lightly down Sweetie’s arm and she shivered, unable to look away. “My heart is yours, Sweetie Nair. Completely.”

There were a million people around them. Her parents were tucked away somewhere. Children shrieked; a glass shattered. The sound system was playing a remixed version of “Sheila ki jawani,” one of the most horrendous Bollywood songs ever created. And still, somehow, Sweetie felt drunk with the magic of first love.

She took a breath. Touched Ashish lightly on the chest. She imagined she felt his heart thumping feverishly against her fingertips. “Obviously,” she said, her face completely serious, “I love you, Ashish Patel.”

He smiled. “Obviously I love you too.”

“So what’s the plan?” he asked, once she’d led him to the unoccupied study. She left the door open because she didn’t want any of the nosy uncles or aunties telling Amma that her daughter had ensconced herself in a closed room with a boy. Or worse, for Amma to find them like that.

“I’m just waiting for Anjali Chechi to get here,” Sweetie said, twirling a lock of her hair around her index finger.

“Your favorite cousin, right? The orthopedic surgeon?”

Sweetie smiled, pleased that he remembered. She’d mentioned Anjali Chechi only once or twice before. “Yeah. And her husband’s really cool too. You’ll like him.”

“So they’re sort of like buffers between me and your parents?”

“Human shields, more like,” Sweetie murmured.

“Hey.” Ashish put a hand on her arm. “Whatever happens, it’s all going to be okay. I promise.”

She smiled and stepped back a little.

He frowned and took his hand away. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” She laughed, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Um, I’ve just always had a thing about my arms, you know? I never leave them uncovered.”

Ashish looked at her steadily. “You’re beautiful. And your arms are beautiful.”

She studied his expression and realized she believed him.

“Sweetie!” They both turned to see Achchan walk in, grinning widely. “How’s my birthday girl?”

Sweetie laughed as he put an arm around her and kissed her cheek, his mustache prickling her skin. “It’s not my birthday for another two weeks, Achcha.”

“Right, right. Today is all about the presents, your favorite part!” Then he took in her outfit, his eyes widening. “Beautiful!”

Sweetie smiled and tugged at her Anarkali. “Thank you.” Achchan was clueless. He had no idea of the entire mini war Sweetie and Amma had waged about this. “Oh, and, Achcha, I’d like you to meet Ashish Patel.”

Achchan’s eyebrows wrinkled, like he was sure he’d heard that name somewhere. But he shook Ashish’s hand anyway. “Hello, hello! Do you go to Sweetie’s school?”

“No, uncle. I go to Richmond Academy.” Sweetie felt a swell of pride at Ashish’s firm, confident handshake.

“Ashish is their star basketball player,” Sweetie said, putting a hand on his arm and then taking it off quickly when she realized what she was doing. WITH. ACHCHAN. RIGHT. THERE. “But he’s too modest to say that.”

Ashish laughed, looking down at her with so much admiration and pure love, her bones filled with helium and she almost floated off into the stratosphere. “That’s funny coming from the track star of Piedmont.”

Achchan looked from Sweetie to Ashish and then back at her again, a slight crinkle between his eyebrows, like he was trying to figure something out. Sweetie looked steadily at him, her heart pounding. If he asked her, she’d tell him the truth.

“There you are!”

Sweetie turned at the familiar-as-her-favorite-Hello-Kitty-pajamas female voice to see Anjali Chechi come bouncing in, Jason Chettan close on her heels. Anjali Chechi was always full of a kinetic, effervescent energy. Even her curly hair was exuberant—it reached out in all directions from her head like it just couldn’t bear to be contained, even though she’d tried to tame it into a bun at the nape of her neck.

Her grin was at a thousand percent as she gathered Sweetie in a hug and then held her at arm’s length. “Oh my God,” she said, her eyes shining. “You’re a vision. Seriously.”

Sweetie smiled shyly. “Thank you for getting this for me.”