Counting Down with You(53)

“Feisty,” Ace says, grinning at me. “Are there subtitles?”

“Well, I can’t speak Hindi,” I say, raising my brows. “So, yes, there are subtitles.”

“That was a stupid question,” he concedes. “Can you give me a rundown of what’s happened so far?”

“Are...are you going to watch with me?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah. I’m not going to make you change movies because I’m here. What’s happened so far?”

“Uh.” I rack my brain for a way to summarize the plot, but I’m having difficulty even processing the fact he’s willing to sit here and watch a Bollywood film with me. “The main character, Naina, has a dysfunctional family, and she doesn’t believe in love or happiness and all that. Then this dude Aman suddenly shows up and brings all this wonderful energy and brightens every aspect of her life by helping her family and friends and her. He encourages her to live life to the fullest and she...falls in love with him because of it.”

Ace tilts his head, his eyes searching my expression. I purposefully keep it as blank as possible, because it’s hitting me how similar this movie is to my current state of affairs. “Is that it so far?”

“No,” I say and clear my throat. The rest of the movie isn’t as relatable, thankfully. “Aman is also in love with Naina, but he has a terminal illness. Still, Aman wants her to be happy even when he’s gone, so he hatches this plan to make Naina fall in love with her best friend, Rohit, who’s also in love with her.”

Ace blinks. “That’s...rough. Does Aman die?”

I shrug and gesture to the screen. “I guess you’ll have to watch and find out.”

“What are we waiting for then? Press play.”

I hide my smile behind my blanket and hit play.

I start crying not even five minutes later, when Aman reads a speech about loving Naina from Rohit’s diary.

Ace looks at me in alarm. “Why are you crying?”

“He—” I sniffle, wiping my nose. “There’s nothing in the diary. Those are Aman’s real words.”

Dadu comes in a moment later, holding out a box of tissues. I immediately gauge how much distance is between me and Ace—thankfully, still a safe amount.

“Be careful with her, she’s an ocean,” Dadu tells Ace in Bengali, handing him the entire box, before walking off.

He gives me a confused look. “What did she say?”

I laugh, the sound wet and choked off. “She said to be careful. I’m an ocean.”

“More tears?” Ace says.

“More tears,” I agree.

Ace sighs, leaning farther back into the couch. “He’s definitely going to die.”

I laugh again and shove his arm after making sure Dadu isn’t looking. “Just watch the movie.”

As we’re watching, Ace’s phone keeps buzzing. He glances at it a few times and irritation flickers across his face before he puts it away without replying. I’m tempted to ask, but it’s not my business.

One of my favorite dance numbers comes on, and Ace nudges my foot. “How come you never dress up like that?”

I roll my eyes, though I’ve also been imagining myself in Naina’s shimmery lehenga. “She hasn’t been dressed up for the entire movie, Ace.”

“Yeah, but she’s dressed up now.”

“This is her engagement party!”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Say what?”

“That someone needs to propose to you in order for you to dress up. You know, technically, I did prompose, so maybe you could wear one to prom—”

“Oh my God, be quiet.”

Ace makes an mhmm sound but mimes zipping his lips shut when I shoot him a glare.

A scene with Aman’s doctor comes up, and my skin crawls. It must show on my face, because Ace reaches forward to pause the film. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say.

He frowns. “You’re shaking.”

I glance at my hand and realize my fingers are trembling. Ugh. I should’ve been more careful when choosing a film. I’m always extra sensitive the day after an anxiety attack, and things trigger me more easily. Right now, apparently seeing a doctor on the screen is enough to make my body protest.

I take a deep breath, trying to inhale the scent of cinnamon in the room. It helps a little. “Um...it’s just. Doctors.”

“Are you scared of them?” he asks, sounding baffled. His gaze darts to the candle on the table in front of us, and his eyes narrow before he looks back at me. “I thought you were in Pre-Med Society.”

I smile faintly. “You would remember that.”

“Don’t change the subject, Ahmed.”

Damn. I wasn’t even trying to change the subject. I guess we’re having this conversation then. “It’s just...my parents want me to be a doctor. I don’t really want to be one, but I don’t think I have much of a choice at this point. It is what it is, I guess.”

Ace turns his entire body toward me, his expression uncertain. “What do you mean you don’t have a choice?”

I play with a loose thread of my blanket. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to let my parents down.”