From Twinkle, With Love(48)

Sahil was staring at me, his eyes wide. “You know that video you made of your mom, where she’s standing at a sink, washing tomatoes or something? It’s on your YouTube channel.”

I nodded; I remembered that one. It was from two years ago. I’d set the camera on the windowsill, so it was like an outsider was watching Mummy. She hadn’t noticed the camera, so she was humming this lori to herself while she worked. When she finally noticed the camera, she laughed. “Oh, Twinkle,” she said. “Is my lullaby that interesting?”

I loved that she’d posed a question to the viewer. I loved that I’d caught her in a rare moment, being carefree and unburdened.

“I love that movie,” Sahil continued. “And the one with Dadi and Oso. And the one with Maddie trying on that big floofy white dress. And how you joined her, wearing a sari.”

“Oh, yeah.” I grinned at the memory. “That was from eighth grade. We found her mom’s old wedding dress and so she made me go home and get a red sari so I could pretend to be a bride too.”

“But then you caught her in the mirror, saying how her mom won’t be able to see her on her wedding day. And it drew the viewer in.”

“Maddie doesn’t like to talk about it, but her mom died when she was two,” I explained.

“I remember that from elementary school.” He was still holding my hand, and he tugged on it, drawing me closer to him. “But you caught that on camera. You have the unique gift of catching the truths people keep hidden.”

I looked up into his eyes. I was close enough to him that I could smell his lemon soap. “So, what’s your truth?” I found myself asking, barely able to hear myself over the sound of my thundering heart. “What are you keeping hidden?”

Sahil looked down at our hands, clasped together, my dark fingers against his light-brown ones. “Sometimes …,” he said, his voice quiet and halting. “Sometimes I worry I don’t know who I really am. Sometimes I’m afraid nothing I do will ever be enough to set me apart.” I got the feeling he’d never said those words out loud before, that he’d probably never say them again.

I squeezed his hand gently, until his eyes found mine. “I understand,” I said, “more than you know.”

“I don’t believe that,” Sahil replied. “It’s so obvious that the world needs your voice.”

I shook my head. “I’m just as confident about you as you are about me. So if you don’t know you who are, Sahil, ask me and I’ll tell you.

“You’ll go on a botany hike on a ninety-degree day or to a headache-inducing music festival even if it’s not your thing because a friend asks you to. You’ll go out of your way to pick someone up in your car because you know they need it. You’re brilliant at giving your opinion on a scene we’re filming, but you’re equally good at stepping aside and letting me take over. You’re one of those rare people who can see when they’re being unreasonable and temper themselves. You see me as an artist in a way no one else has, and I think it’s because you have an artist’s soul too.”

We were looking into each other’s eyes as I talked, and when I fell silent, we were still gazing at each other. Sahil leaned in a bit, asking permission. After only the slightest pause, I leaned in too, giving it.

And then we were kissing, tentative at first, but soon hungrier, our arms snaking around each other, our breaths coming quicker and quicker. It was like a movie kiss. I don’t even care if that sounds childish. You know how people are always swooning over that kiss in the movie The Notebook, the one in the rain? That one would rate a -2 on the romance meter compared to the one Sahil and I shared.

When Sahil and I came up for air, I leaned back, just like I’d done before. “Remember when I said I wanted to keep things professional? I’m pretty sure this is an HR violation,” I said, but the fact that I was panting and flushed undermined my authority.

“Right,” he said, his voice shaky. “Professional. Until you figure things out.”

I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“And … what are you figuring out again?”

I wanted to tell him. I really, really did. But how could I? After everything he’d just told me, I couldn’t think of a single way to say I might want to date his twin brother without hurting him, and without hurting myself. Because I wasn’t foolish enough to delude myself for this long—I was absolutely, totally, and completely falling for Sahil Roy.

“I just need some more time. And then I’ll tell you everything.”

I would, I decided. Even if I ended up with Sahil, I’d still tell him about my secret admirer and my struggle. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad because we’d have our happy ending. But not now. Not yet. I could not let go of the idea of Neil and me, the one I’d had for so many years now.

“Okay,” he said. Then he smiled, this soft, sweet thing that made my heart squeeze. “Hey, T?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” Briefly, he rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. Then he pulled back. “I’m gonna go grab a soda. Can I get you anything?”

“Some cold water would be great,” I said, and he nodded and left.

So that’s where I am now. Sitting on Sahil’s chair, disappointed at my own idiotic stubbornness and so confused, too. Because it would feel so right to let things progress with Sahil. It would feel so right to fall in love with him.