You Asked for Perfect(30)

Our waitress sets the dishes on the table. Piles of noodles with spiced beef and sliced peppers. Rice with egg and scallions and shredded tofu. I put my face over my plate and inhale the scented steam. It is literally mouthwatering. The perfect second dinner.

Amir picks up his fork. He ordered the ginger chicken in a light brown sauce with skinny sautéed onions. “Ariel,” he says. “Stop checking out my food.”

I laugh. “I can’t help it.” But I pick up my fork and turn to my own plate.

Rasha grins at me from across the table. “Get ready for the rest of the food in your life to disappoint you forever.”

I take a bite. Damn, that’s good. I’ve never had Thai like this. Spicy and sweet with a hint of acid from the lime. The noodles are cooked perfectly, and the beef is soft and seasoned.

“Hello, please bury me in this restaurant because I’m never leaving,” I say.

“I’ll be buried in the plot next to you,” Amir agrees.

Our table lapses into satiated silence as everyone dives into their dishes. It reminds me of that five-minute window when we have guests over for Shabbat dinner. We’re a family of talkers, but when Mom’s matzo ball soup descends upon us, no one has time for conversation.

We all finish, one after another. I lean back in the booth, staring at my demolished plate. Amir reclines next to me, our shoulders pushed together. The booth is small. They have to be touching. Okay, I might be leaning into him a little bit.

“I really wanted leftovers.” His plate is as empty as mine. “I might be driving back tomorrow for more.”

“Smart. Take me with you,” I say.

“Okay.” He smiles, and my skin flushes. I know he’s joking, but still…Amir and I going out to a restaurant alone? A cozy, dim, intimate restaurant?

Something brushes my hand. I look down. Amir’s fingers sweep over mine. I glance at everyone around us, but no one can see under the low table. Our fingers intertwine, grip, lock. I stare at the table, trying to keep a neutral face, as his hand squeezes mine.

God, I want to kiss him.

We slip back into the group conversation. But all the laughter and chatter feel distant, filtered. All I can concentrate on is the heat of our clasped hands.

Eventually, it gets late. The restaurant empties out. Our waitress gives us the I want to finish my shift sigh. “I’ll go get the car,” Amir offers since it’s parked about eight blocks away.

Without a second thought, I say, “I’ll go with you.”

Only Malka gives us a suspicious look. Sook and Rasha say thanks and go back to their conversation.

A minute later, I’m alone with Amir. We walk down the lamp-lit sidewalks. I miss his hand already, but it feels too real to hold it out here. Amir has gone quiet again. A contemplative quiet, but I’m bursting with adrenaline, with the need to make something happen. I keep glancing at his lips.

“I had fun tonight,” I finally say. “Much better than studying at home.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Amir looks at me. His eyes are warmer than ever in the lamplight. I search them for a moment, wondering if he feels what I do.

Curiosity fuels courage. “Maybe we could do it again. By ourselves. If you know of other shows…”

“I’d like that.”

We slip back into silence, but the air crackles between us. When we get to the car, Amir follows me around to the passenger side. He stands in front of me, hands tucked into his pockets. My back almost touches the car. I try to take a calming breath but inhale spearmint and basil.

“Ariel?” Amir asks. His gaze is sincere and resolute. “Can I kiss you?”

My throat catches, voice coming out rough. “Yeah, you can kiss me.”

Our lips meet, and it’s soft and sweet with a flicker of need. Amir tugs my jacket, bringing me closer to him. Our chests press together lightly, and my pulse jumps.

It’s the gentlest kiss in the world. Determined in its leisure, like we can stay here against his car for an eternity. His lips brush against mine and then wander to my cheek and jaw, featherlight. My hands instinctively reach for his hair. It’s full and soft, and Amir makes a little noise when I run my fingers through it.

Eventually, his mouth returns to my lips, one final kiss. Then he leans his forehead against mine, and I open my eyes just to see him that near. His eyes are still closed, eyelashes long and dark.

Amir pulls back but only a bit. He nudges me, wearing an unbearably earnest smile, and says, “You know, Ariel, I’m really glad you’re bad at calculus.”

“Oh my god.” I laugh, then shove him gently, but my hand bunches against his shirt, holding him to me. “That’s terrible.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” I say. Then I tug him forward and kiss him again.





Nine


“Rachel, can you grab some extra soap from the storage closet?” I call out. I’m elbow-deep in the sink, washing a sweet little mutt.

No response.

“Rachel?” I call louder.

“Ugh. One minute.”

She stalks into the room a few moments later and drops the soap on the counter. “Here, happy?” She turns on her heel and leaves.

“You are way too young to be turning into a teenager!” I yell after her.