When Dimple Met Rishi(20)

Rishi must not be feeling the tumult of weirdness that she was. His voice was perfectly calm as he replied. “No problem. Here.” He pulled the strap gracefully from around his neck and held out the camera to her. There was a flicker of something in his eye when he looked at her, but it was gone so quickly, Dimple wondered if she’d imagined it. “It is your turn, you’re right.”

The laughing jokiness of the past few minutes was completely gone as Dimple pointed the camera at the statue and took a picture. “Thanks.” She handed the camera back to Rishi as she flapped the picture, and, wordlessly, he looped the camera back around his neck. “So,” she said, slipping the photograph into the envelope that the list had come with. “Where to next? We’ve done Buddha and funny. That leaves water, yellow, and blur.”

? ? ?

Water was easy. They were both thirsty, so they decided to be totally unimaginative and head to the café across the street for bottles of water. But they’d drunk them in the courtyard outside at a fog-wrapped wrought-iron table, the camera on the tabletop between them. That’s when Rishi had decided to begin stealth-spraying her with drops of water.

Dimple had totally thought it was the fog, somehow melting onto her. Tipping her head back, she’d looked up at the swirling mist. “Weird. I could’ve sworn I felt water drops. Does this fog just randomly turn to rain?”

“Huh. I don’t think that’s possible.” Rishi’s face had been totally impassive, his hand circled casually around the water bottle. “But maybe a bird drooled on you.”

Dimple laughed. “A bird drooled on me? What are you smoking?” But when she took another sip of her water, she felt more drops. And when she looked up, she saw a flock of birds flying by.

“Told ya,” Rishi said, still totally serious. “It’s a thing not many people know about. But birds are one of my hobbies. Some species, like Avius borealis above, drool to release scent. It helps the other birds follow them better through foggy areas.”

“The only scent around here is BS.” But Dimple’s voice lacked conviction, even to her own ears. Everything he was saying sounded totally stupid, but he was so serious. . . .

Rishi lifted an earnest hand. “Swear to God.” But there was a glint in his eye that gave him away.

“Interesting.” Dimple bit her lip to keep from smiling and then very deliberately looked down to pull out the scavenger hunt list. And when she felt the next drops of water begin to splash against her skin, she grabbed the camera and took a picture of Rishi.

She caught him red-handed, laughing surreptitiously as he flicked water at her. The picture was really cool, the drops of water catching the sun and twinkling like little diamonds. They were headed right at her, frozen in space, with a blurry Rishi grinning right behind.

Dimple held out the evidence, one eyebrow raised. “So. Bird drool, huh?”

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing.

“I had you going for a minute, admit it,” Rishi said, once he’d caught his breath.

Dimple stuck her tongue out at him. “Never.” She wouldn’t admit it to him, of course, but Rishi Patel was sort of a fun guy. She might even miss him when he left tomorrow.

? ? ?

Yellow and blur turned out to be the easiest when Rishi snapped a picture of a yellow cable car going by while they walked. “Boom. We’re all finished. And we still have”—he consulted his watch, a Gucci; she remembered reading once that when they were that expensive, they were timepieces, not watches—“seventeen minutes to go.” He handed her the picture, and she slid it into their envelope as they began to walk back toward the Spurlock building, now about three quarters of a mile away.

“Awesome.” Dimple glanced sidelong at him. The oblique late afternoon rays turned the ends of his hair a chocolate brown. “So what do your parents do?”

“My parents?” Clearly confused at the question, he said, “My dad’s a corporate executive, and my mom’s a housewife. Why?”

Dimple wondered if the Patels’ wealth had been a reason her parents had chosen Rishi for her, and then was immediately ashamed. Mamma and Papa were many things, but they weren’t mercenary. “Just curious. Do you think our parents will remain friends, even after you leave tomorrow?” Dimple kept her tone light, but the question felt like jagged rock in her mouth. She tried to imagine goofing off with another partner like she had today with Rishi and supposed it was possible. She could possibly be matched up with someone whose sense of humor she’d also instantly get, whom she found just as easy to be around. It was definitely in the realm of possibility. And yet.

“Oh, I think so,” Rishi said. “I get the feeling that when you’re bound by decades, a couple of foolish kids aren’t enough to dissolve that.”

She heard the smile in what he was saying, but there was a hint of regret, too, tinting all his words blue. Was she being foolish? Rishi had already agreed that they weren’t going to be an item. Papa had already said he didn’t expect anything of her except that she win Insomnia Con. So why did she want Rishi to go away? What would that accomplish, really? Who said that if she got reassigned to a partner, they’d be anyone better or more invested in her idea than he was?

“So what are—”

“I think you should stay.”