Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating(21)

“I like Ishita.” Dee’s statement has both Aisling and me swinging around so fast that I’m pretty sure I get whiplash.

“You do?” Aisling makes it sound as if liking Ishita is as unthinkable as eternal life or visiting the sun.

“She’s interesting!” Dee exclaims, like Ishu is something to marvel at. “I’ve never really met someone like her before. I mean … I don’t know her very well, but …” She shrugs her shoulders. “She’s my chemistry lab partner and she has such laser focus. It’s amazing.”

“I didn’t know you knew her at all,” I say. Ishu is not in any of my classes except biology. She takes some of the hardest classes you can take because I guess that’s how she plans to enroll in the best university that’ll take her. Plus, I know that she takes an extra subject outside of school as well. To make herself look even more impressive than she already is, I guess.

Dee shrugs again. “You know, you should bring her to my birthday party on Saturday.”

“I will!” The words tumble out of me in a rush. I had been trying to figure out how I could suggest bringing Ishu without Aisling getting mad about it. Aisling still looks mad at the idea that Ishu might be coming, but since it’s Dee’s birthday and she made the invite unprompted, Aisling can’t really say anything about it, can she?




Ishita is waiting by the gates of the school when I finally leave. I’m wearing a forest green dress that Aisling got for me for my last birthday. It has white flowers sketched all over it. I even managed to dab on some eyeliner. All of it is lost on Ishu though, because she barely glances at what I’m wearing.

“Come on, we’ll take the Luas.” She turns and begins walking, her runners squeaking against the damp pavement. I have to jog to keep up with her.

We get the Luas into town together, an awkward silence hanging over us for the whole journey. I feel like I’m actually on a first date, rather than just a pretend one.

“Where are we going?” I ask when Ishu begins to lead me past streets I’m familiar with, and into alleys that I’ve never been in.

“Trust me, I know this really cool place that’s halal,” she says. “You’ll love it.”

I wonder how she knows that I’ll love it when we barely know each other. I guess just the place being halal is a good start.

We weave past a few more alleys, and I’m glad that we’re close enough to the summer months that daylight lasts until eight o’clock. I definitely wouldn’t want to be in these dodgy alleys after it’s gone dark.

Finally, Ishu comes to a stop in front of a tiny restaurant, squeezed between a pub and a newsagent’s. The name of it is written in fancy cursive writing at the top: Seven Wonders.

“This place is tiny,” I say.

“But nice,” Ishu counters. “Come on. I made a booking, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

I take a quick picture for my Instagram story, even though it feels wrong. But we’re here to document our “date” more than anything else.

The place must be kind of a rare find. Maybe that’s why it’s called Seven Wonders, because it seems to be a wonder of its own. Only a dozen or so seats are squeezed into the tiny space, brimming with beautiful decorations. There are pictures of wonders of the world all over the walls: gushing waterfalls, lush rainforests and jungles, ancient buildings brimming with history. Each of the booths is parted from the others with a curtain of beads that clink together almost harmoniously. The music—Arabic from the sounds of it—is somehow both melodious and calming.

“How did you find this place?” I lean forward to whisper to Ishu. I don’t know why, but it seems wrong to do anything except whisper in this place.

She shrugs. “I have my ways.”

“Table for two?” The waitress greets us with a smile. She’s wearing a black vest and trousers that almost feel out of place here.

“Yes, we have a reservation. Dey.”

“Oh … this way.” Surprisingly, the waitress brings us away from the dozen tables stuffed into the room and to a set of stairs at the very edge. The staircase is almost completely hidden from view. Downstairs, the restaurant is even calmer and quieter. The waitress leads us to a booth toward the very back and hands us both menus as we slide into our seats.

“Wow,” I mumble, opening up my menu and taking in the choices. It’s all Middle Eastern cuisine.

“I mean, there were a lot of Indian restaurants when I was looking for halal places, but … I figured we both have enough of that at home,” Ishu says. “Not that you can really have enough of, like … really good biryani, but you know.”

Ishu is fumbling with her menu when I look up at her. She opens it and closes it, and her leg is firmly tap tap tapping away on the floor. I realize that she’s actually a little bit nervous, and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because she was tasked with finding a place? Maybe she’s not sure what I think about it?

All I know for sure is that in all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Ishu nervous. It’s strange to see. She usually carries herself with such unflinching confidence.

“I really like it,” I say. Ishu looks up to meet my gaze and the ghost of a smile appears on her lips.

“Well, don’t say anything before you’ve had the food,” she says.