When Dimple Met Rishi(29)
What? Why was he saying that? Mr. Gucci obviously didn’t have a budget. He was doing this for her benefit, wasn’t he?
The waiter nodded and smiled. “An understandable concern, sir. But not to worry. An anonymous donor has very generously paid for all of your meals already. To include desserts.”
Dimple looked up sharply. “What? Who was it?”
The waiter held up his perfectly manicured hands. “Now, that wouldn’t make it very anonymous, would it, miss? The donor asked not to be identified. But please order whatever you choose.”
“Well, that is really cool of this donor person,” Rishi said.
Dimple glanced at him suspiciously, but he was studying the dessert menu with a renewed interest. The others looked dumbfounded.
“We can afford to pay our own bill,” Hari said finally, sounding mortally offended.
“Indeed, sir,” the waiter said. “The donor was simply attempting to do something good, I think. One of those pay it forward things.”
Isabelle was pink as she said, “Yeah. Or, like, it was a guy and he wanted to pay my bill and didn’t know how to do that without paying for everyone’s.” She looked at the waiter. “Did he leave a number?”
The waiter frowned. “No, miss. The donor left nothing except money. Do you wish to order a dessert?”
Miffed, Isabelle blew out a breath. “Well.” After a pause, she said grudgingly, “Yes. I suppose I’ll have a caramel brownie.”
? ? ?
The rest of the dinner wasn’t very eventful. Everyone mainly talked about the upcoming week, how they were going to position themselves going into Insomnia Con proper, and how difficult it was going to be. Some people, they’d heard rumors, even brought caffeine pills to stay up through the night.
Celia shuddered. “I couldn’t do that. Give me a Red Bull any day of the week.” Then she paused and looked around. “Seriously. Any day of the week, I’m willing.”
Everyone laughed, even Dimple, who laughed with a hysterical edge to her voice because she was just so glad this thing was winding down. She wanted nothing more than to go back to the dorm, take a scalding hot shower, and wash her hair. There was something about washing out her hair that calmed her.
Dimple and Rishi finished their desserts at the same time, and Rishi immediately threw down his napkin and stood. “Well, I’m off.” Dimple tried not to laugh; he wasn’t even pretending like he wanted to suffer their company a moment longer than he absolutely had to. With a hand on the back of her chair, he said, “Are you coming, or would you like to stay a bit longer?”
Dimple tossed her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. “Oh no. I’m definitely done.” She smiled at Celia. “I’ll see you later.”
And then they walked toward the doors, leaving a heavy silence behind them.
? ? ?
Outside, the evening had turned even colder. The stars were erased by the fog, and Dimple felt a pang. That was one thing she loved about her backyard in suburbia—she could always make out at least a few stars.
“So,” Rishi said, buttoning up his jacket. “That was interesting, no?”
Dimple snorted but remained silent, cinching her hood tight around her head.
“Come on, Dimple Shah,” he said, gently hitting her shoulder with his. “What’d you really think?”
“Were you the donor?” she asked quietly.
There was an infinitesimal pause, just one tiny breath. Then: “You must think I’m way more generous than I am. Did you see how much those Aberzombie boys ate? And they didn’t even have brains on the menu.”
“Har har,” Dimple said, thinking, You didn’t answer my question. She wondered if it should bother her more, if she should challenge him. But she realized, even if the donor had been him, she was just grateful that Mamma and Papa wouldn’t be footing the bill.
She switched tack. “Okay, so answer me this, then: Do you really believe all of what you said? About your family’s ancestral home in Gujarat? Seeing all the history? Or was that all just for their benefit?” She rubbed her arms against the chill, and Rishi, seemingly unthinkingly, scooted closer so they were touching arms. She’d protest, but the boy put off an insane amount of body heat, even through layers of fabric.
“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
Dimple laughed.
“What?”
She shook her head. “It’s just, my mom. She says the same thing. ‘No one likes a nosy girl, Dimple.’ ‘You’ll never land a boy with that mouth of yours.’?”
“Huh.” Rishi cocked his head to the side and studied her face as she watched him in confusion. It was sort of hard to do while they walked, but they managed somehow. “I don’t know . . . I think your mouth is perfect the way it is.”
CHAPTER 17
The air between them felt suddenly charged somehow. Heat rushed to Dimple’s cheeks. Suddenly, she wasn’t so cold anymore, and she moved away from Rishi. His face went blank for a second, and then mortification overcame everything. Even his eyebrows looked embarrassed, somehow. Dimple felt a little bad for him. But not that bad, because he was the one who’d said it.
“I didn’t mean—I meant, your questions—”