Counting Down with You(17)

Ace looks up and grins. I shift uncomfortably, because my stomach feels like it’s twisting into knots. He has dimples? Jesus Christ. Ya Allah. All of the above.

Either way, this is bad. I want no part of it. If I look at his face for another minute, I might give in to Nandini and Cora’s delusions, and then where would we be?

“You get it, Ahmed,” Ace says, clearly pleased. He closes the book about monkeys—I’m still confused—and gives me his full attention. I can still see a hint of a dimple in his left cheek, and it makes me want to scream.

And yet, even though this entire conversation is ridiculous, the longer it goes on, the better I feel. The cloud that’s been hanging over my head all day begins to evaporate.

“I think you’re distracting me to keep from studying,” I say after a moment. “Let’s get to work, Ace.”

“Boring,” Ace mutters, but not a second later, he sits down across from me. When he grins this time, I actually feel normal. Maybe I can build an immunity to his smile. There’s hope for me yet.

I get through about twenty minutes of the session I outlined before he interrupts. “Let’s go.”

“What?” I look down at my notes, trying to figure out his train of thought. “Go where?”

“Pietra’s Sweet Tooth,” he says, reaching for the leather jacket he hung on the back of his chair. He gestures for me to stand.

I give him a dubious look. “Why would we go there again? We have to study, Ace.”

“I’m more productive there,” he says.

On one hand, it’s kind of true. On another hand, it wastes precious time. On a third hand I don’t even have, the library is my favorite place to be. Pietra’s Sweet Tooth is lovely, but this place feels like a warm hug.

“We’re studying for school. We should study in school.”

“Don’t be a bore, Ahmed,” Ace says, but his voice is teasing. I’m thrown by the change. Has he been switched out for a look-alike? He’s so different from the person I keep expecting him to be. “A little ice cream never killed anybody.”

“A lot of people die from high blood sugar, actually.”

Ace shakes his head. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

I grin widely, unable to help myself. “It’s because I read. You should try it sometime.”

Almost immediately, my muscles tense. I’m not supposed to say things like that to him.

But...he doesn’t look like he minds, so maybe it’s okay.

Slowly, I relax.

“Come on, Ahmed. I’ll pay again,” Ace says, offering me his hand.

I blink down at it once, twice, thrice.

Even with my mother across the world, I can almost physically see her standing over Ace’s shoulder with a sharp look in her eye. According to her, it’s inappropriate to interact with boys aside from neutral pleasantries.

I don’t really understand it, but her warnings are still ingrained in me like decaying roots.

I push his hand back, pressing his fingers down gently until they curl into his palm. “We really have to study.”

He sighs and leans back in his seat. “Fine.”

Our lesson goes completely downhill after that. His gaze keeps drifting away, as if he’s searching the aisles for something. His entire body is rigid for reasons I can’t begin to fathom.

Ten minutes later, I give up. I’m a people pleaser, and this situation clearly isn’t working for either of us. “Okay. You’re not paying attention. Let’s just go.”

Ace shifts his gaze from a bookshelf past my shoulder with a guilty expression on his face. Then my words seem to penetrate his thick skull. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” I roll my eyes. “But from now on we have to spend thirty minutes in the library and thirty minutes there. You can’t slack off during the library time. Okay?”

I’m hoping he’ll agree to the compromise, because I don’t think there’s any other mutually beneficial solution. Thankfully, Ace nods.

Five minutes later, he opens the door to the shop for me and I slip inside, this time inspecting the different doughnut flavors.

The same girl is behind the register, and she looks surprised when she notices me. I didn’t realize yesterday but her name tag says Pietra. She looks only a year or two older than me, though, which doesn’t make sense.

Pietra gestures to her name tag when she sees me looking. “My dad owns the shop. He named it after me.”

“That’s sweet,” I say honestly, trying not to wonder if my parents would do something like that for me. I hope so, but I have no idea. “Can I get a jelly-filled doughnut please?”

“And I’ll have my usual,” Ace says over my head.

“If you’re going to get me a drink, do you mind getting me coffee?” I ask him before I can lose the nerve. “Milk with three spoons of sugar? I can pay you back if you want.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace nods toward the booths. “I’ll bring it when it’s ready.”

We sit at the same booth again and I take some time to admire it in more detail. It’s bubblegum pink with soft cushioned seats. The table is polished rosewood with an arrangement of condiments in animal-themed bottles. I push the frilly sky-blue throw pillows to the side to make room for my backpack.