Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating(43)

“You know, you should come hang out with us during lunchtime at school,” she says.

Hani nudges my shoulder with hers like I’ve just received an invitation to visit the Queen at Buckingham Palace, and Dee nods her head up and down a little too fast, like a bobblehead.

“Sure, that might be nice,” I say, with a smile of my own.

“Great, see you later!” With that, Aisling, Dee, Colm, and Barry turn and begin to make their way home.

“She likes you!” Hani exclaims, turning to me with delight etched into every inch of her face.

“I guess I should have tried to date her, not you.” I smile.

Hani slaps me lightly on the wrist. “Shut up. Like you could have achieved any of that without my help.”

We pile onto the Luas and, surprisingly, manage to find seats together. Hani is still smiling so brightly that I’m surprised her cheeks don’t collapse from the effort.

“A lunch invite doesn’t mean we’re friends,” I point out. “Or that she’s going to support me as Head Girl.”

“It’s a step in the right direction!” Hani nudges me again with her shoulder. “Don’t be such a pessimist, Ishu.”

I sigh and glance out the window. The warm, sunny day has descended into a cool evening. Considering the gathering clouds, it might not be the nicest night. For some reason, the thought of our plan working fills me with a dread I can’t quite explain.

“Ishu.” Hani’s voice draws me out of the stream of thought I had lost myself inside.

“Yeah?”

“Our plan is working. You should be happy.”

When I turn, Hani is analyzing me a little too closely. Our faces are inches apart and I can make out the exact shade of warm brown that her eyes are—far lighter than mine. I can make out every imperfection on her skin—there are too few—and the tiny mole she has just by her right ear.

“Ishu?” I jump back, almost hitting the window of the Luas with the back of my head.

“Fuck, sorry.” I rub at the back of my head, trying to bite down whatever the hell is going on with me. Except I can’t. I don’t know how to tell Hani that the best part of this whole evening was in the park when she took my hand in hers, and now, when she’s sitting so close that I’m pretty sure her scent has spread to me through osmosis.

“Hey …” Hani places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know this whole thing is important to you, and this isn’t a guarantee or whatever. But lunchtimes with Aisling and Dee mean that everyone will think you’re part our group. That already ups your cool factor by like …” She places her hand above her head to indicate how cool I apparently will be soon.

I have to smile at her concern. And her enthusiasm. Hani obviously doesn’t—and can’t—know that the thing weighing on me heavily at this point in time is not my social status or being Head Girl. But my increasing crush on her. Not helped by anything she’s doing.

“I know,” I say finally. “Thank you … for everything you’ve already done. I’m sure at least a few more people won’t hate me after seeing me at lunch with you guys.”

Hani looks at me with her eyebrows furrowed. “You know that people at school don’t hate you, right?”

“They don’t?”

“No … they’re … intimidated by you. You can be intimidating. I was intimidated by you.”

“You were?” I find that a little difficult to believe.

Hani rolls her eyes. “Stop repeating everything I say. Yes, I was intimidated by you. A little. I mean …” She looks away from me now, staring at the empty space in front of us, and takes a deep breath. “You’re like … super smart. The smartest person in our entire year. Not just in results. You also just know … so much. About so many things. And you always speak your mind and you can stand up to anybody. You’re basically like … invincible.”

“So … everybody at schools thinks I’m Superman?”

Hani turns back to me with another smile that lights up her whole face.

“No.” She chuckles. “They think you’re a lot of things they’re scared to be … so it’s easier to just not interact with you.”

“So … that’s why you’ve steered clear of me all these years.”

“You were the one who didn’t want to be friends with me when you first started at our school!” I know she’s not really accusing me because she chuckles as she says it. I guess she’s not wrong.

“You know why. They were trying to pigeonhole us—the two Bengali girls should be friends. Then we could just be the two Bengali girls and nothing more.”

“So, now that we are friends, are we pigeonholed?”

“Are we friends?” I ask, instead of answering her question.

“I sure hope so.” She laughs nervously. “Do you … not want us to be?”

“I thought …” I say slowly. “We were girlfriends?”

A flash of surprise registers in Hani’s expression. Just surprise—not disgust or amusement.

We hold each other’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary. I will her to say something—yes, we are a couple. Or laugh—no, how could you ever think that? I will her to do something. Lean in? Lean back? Anything.