Too Good To Be True

Aman

Not soon enough.

‘You’re staring,’ Avani interrupted my thoughts.

We were in the private dining area of my favourite restaurant in the city, having pulled up at its entrance just minutes earlier. By the time I’d walked around the car to open the door for Avani, she was already stepping out.

I watched her straighten her kurta, fix her bag on her shoulder and look up at me … I swear I would give every last rupee of my inheritance to live that moment over and over. Even if it were just one more time.

‘You’re breathtaking,’ I said.

That earned me a chuckle and her cheeks flushed pink again.

‘Do you have connections with the underworld?’ she asked with what I hoped wasn’t genuine concern.

I laughed.

‘Why are we sitting away from everyone else? Like you’re some ganglord who has the police looking for him?’

‘I thought we’d want some privacy.’

‘Ouu. Is there more knuckle-kissing on the cards? I hope you have protection,’ she teased.

I grinned and pressed the little button on the side of the table, and moments later a server walked in.

‘ Buonasera, Signor Raina. Sono lieto che possiate cenare con noi stasera. Qualcun altro si unirà a lei? Good evening, Mr Raina. Glad you could dine with us tonight. Will anybody else be joining you?’ the server asked.

‘No, Marco. Tutti coloro di cui ho bisogno stasera sono qui con me nella stanza. Everyone I need tonight is right here in the room with me.’

I didn’t look up from the menu as I said this, but I could feel Avani’s eyes on me.

‘ Mi piacerebbe avere una insalata di burrata con pesto e pomodori e un contorno di pane di segale come antipasto ,’ I said. A burrata salad with pesto and tomatoes, and a side of sourdough bread.

‘ Sì, signore. Desidera qualcosa da bere? Would you like something to drink?’ the server asked.

‘ Sì, una bottiglia del vostro miglior vino bianco, per favore. Grazie. ’ Only the finest wine will do this evening.

I shut the menu and placed it on the table. ‘I took the liberty of ordering the starters and some nice wine. I come here all the time. I hope you like it.’

‘OMG. I’m getting murdered here tonight. Take whatever you want, just let me go, Mr Ganglord.’

‘Ha ha. Funny.’

‘So you speak Italian.’ She sounded impressed.

‘ Si ,’ I replied with a smile.

‘Where did you learn to speak it so well?’

‘How do you know I speak it well?’

‘I mean, unless the waiter sucks at Italian too, from what I heard, I would say you speak it well. You didn’t fumble. You sounded confident. It’s … it’s hot!’ she said with a grin.

‘You find Italian-speaking men hot?’

‘ Si .’

‘Wow, thanks.’ I grinned.

‘No need to thank me. Just get me that Italian waiter’s number and we’ll be even. You think he’s single?’ she said, smiling mischievously.

Slowly she took the menu from my side of the table and started flipping through it.

‘Funny,’ I said. ‘Speaking of numbers …’

Suddenly she stiffened. Her face changed. That wicked smile vanished and the pink on her cheeks was back. What had I said?

‘Yeah, about that …’ She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Umm … look …’

‘It’s okay,’ I said before she could finish. ‘It’s all good. Don’t worry about it.’

‘Really? You didn’t think it was creepy?’

Creepy? Did she know I had almost asked Sheryl to get me her information?

‘Er … I don’t understand,’ I said cautiously. ‘What was … creepy?’

‘My text.’

Text?

‘Your text?’ I asked, confused.

‘Yeah, I … I’m just so sorry!’

Okay. Now I was really lost. ‘I have no clue what you’re talking about, Avani.’

‘I know it was stupid, okay? You don’t have to tease me about it. Drop it, please.’ She threw the menu at me.

‘Okay,’ I said, catching it before it could crash into my plate.

‘Okay?’ She widened her eyes. ‘That’s all you’re going to say? Okay?’

‘I … er … I don’t know what you’re talking about, so … I guess okay would be the only appropriate response,’ I replied, my face probably mirroring the completely baffled expression on her face.

‘So, if you text me something that only the two of us know about, should I reply with “okay”

too? That’s acceptable?’ She sounded offended.

I reached across the table, took both her hands in mine and gently squeezed. That seemed to do the trick, because whatever was churning in her mind seemed to calm and she looked into my eyes.

‘You want to tell me what you’re talking about, crazy lady?’ I said with a smile.

She sighed and gently freed her right hand from my grip, leaving the left one still between my palms, and picked up her phone. She scrolled till she found what she was looking for and turned the screen towards me.

It was a chat window with one message sent by her to an unknown number.

The glaciers are melting.

What was I missing here? This was a reference to the conversation we’d had when I’d walked her home after the happy hour at the bookstore. I stared at her phone in confusion, and then my eyes went to the number at the top of her screen. Suddenly everything made sense.

‘Baby, that’s not my number,’ I said softly. ‘This is Ashok’s number. I usually pass it off as mine when I don’t want to share my actual number. Like at malls or … in bookstore registers.’

Her mouth fell open. I couldn’t help but grin. Nobody had ever before done anything like this to connect with me. I wanted to hold her face and kiss her, hold her in my arms and laugh till she laughed with me.

But she seemed mortified. ‘Shut up,’ she whispered, dropping her head on the table, trying to hide her face from me.

I stayed still until I saw her shoulders moving up and down and then heard muffled laughter come through. I joined in.

She looked up and freed her hand from mine to hide her face with both hands. ‘Oh god. I’m such an idiot,’ she said, half laughing and half exasperated.

‘No. You’re a mess, and I can’t wait to get used to it,’ I said, smiling.

I didn’t care if it was too soon. I was pissed off at destiny for not making me walk into that bookstore earlier. How had I lived all these years without knowing her?

Avani

Dessert.

Clearly, God has a wicked sense of humour. Because of all the ways She could tell me to chill and not overthink that text, She chose the one that embarrassed me the most. When I tell you how my insides were squealing even as I laughed at my total stupidity, just take my word for it.

‘Wine?’ the server interrupted my thoughts.

Really, dude … Now?

‘ Si, grazie .’ took the wine bottle and a glass of diet soda, and gestured to the server to leave. He then poured the wine for me and raised his glass. ‘To Ashok?’ he asked, flashing me a gorgeous smile.

‘To Ashok,’ I said, raising mine, laughing. I took a much larger sip than I normally would have and shook my head in disbelief. Of all the ways I had imagined our first date to go, this wasn’t even close.

‘So … what’s Mussoorie like?’ I asked.

‘You’ve never been?’ He looked surprised.

‘Not once.’

‘We must change that.’

A part of my heart fluttered as I imagined travelling out of the city with and getting to know more about him and his life in his place of comfort.

‘Mussoorie is where one part of my heart lives,’ he continued. ‘See …’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the photos app. ‘My parents and my six dogs.’

I nodded, pretending I didn’t know about them already, like this photo wasn’t sitting in my phone gallery and three different chat windows.

‘This is home,’ he said, scrolling to a photo of a beautiful mid-century mansion surrounded by sprawling lawns. It seemed to be located at the centre of a vast estate in the midst of rolling, forested hills.

‘Here’s one of my parents …’ I saw an elegant couple sitting comfortably on the porch of the mansion. It was like a postcard from the bookstore’s gift-shop wall.

‘It’s beautiful … They’re beautiful.’ My heart was filled with a warmth I couldn’t explain. My parents and I hadn’t taken many photos together, not at home, not on vacation.

The only pictures I had of them were at their respective work events, and there was one of the three of us from the time I had broken my leg and they’d come to visit me at Aaji’s house.

We spent the rest of the evening chatting about each other’s childhood dreams—his had been to be a doorman at a fancy hotel because he loved the uniforms, and mine had been to become a writer, because I liked how pretty my handwriting was and I thought that was what made great writers: their handwriting.

We also discussed our common dislike of horror films.

(‘Why would I voluntarily give myself nightmares?’ he exclaimed.

My thoughts exactly.)

Kind of full from the salad and bread from our starters, and after tried to get me to order half the menu, we eventually decided to share a plate of pasta for the main course.

The bottle of wine was apt company.

It did a rather good job of keeping my nerves from getting to me.

A couple of hours later, the wine now coursing comfortably through my veins, gestured at the menu again and asked, ‘Dessert?’

‘I have a name. It’s Avani.’ I winked.

He let out a breathy laugh. ‘Okay then.’

He got up, gesturing to the server that we were done, and walked over to hold my chair as I tried to stand up, immediately feeling the three glasses of wine talking back to me. Whew! Thankfully, had turned away to call Ashok, and saw none of the wobble in my knees as I bent down to pick up my bag and slowly raised myself out of the chair.

‘Shall we?’

I smiled and walked ahead of him. He gently placed his hand on the small of my back as we passed the server by the door.

‘ Gracias ,’ I said proudly.

‘That’s Spanish,’ whispered from behind me.

Damn it.

I was just about to step into the car when my heart skipped a beat. I gasped as I turned around to face .

‘We forgot to pay the bill!’

‘It’s okay,’ he replied calmly.

‘I’m not sure what you mean. It’s not okay, .’

‘Avani …’

‘How did they not follow us out with the credit card machine? They follow me all the time.’ I started moving back towards the entrance.

‘So you’ve fled from restaurants without paying bills before?’ he teased, holding me back by my elbow.

‘Shut up. Come, let’s pay.’ I tugged at my arm.

‘Avani …’

I paused and looked up at him. Finally reading his face, I said slowly, ‘You own the place, don’t you?’ Of course he owned the busiest, most expensive restaurant in the city. Of course.

‘Let me at least go back and fill out my feedback for this lovely evening,’ I said.

‘Plus,’ I added, looking mischievously back at him while I headed in, ‘I might just get that waiter’s number.’

He laughed and shook his head.

When I returned, was waiting by the kerb. He gently led me back to the car and opened the door. I got in. The drive to my apartment complex was quiet, calm and everything else the wine was making me feel.

It was the wine, right? It had to be. I mean, I’d met the guy properly, like, twice. I’d had dinner with him ONCE. You can’t say much about anything in such little time. That’s not how it worked. Right?

Ashok parked the car by the pavement outside my complex gate. I opened the door and stepped out, and did the same. He took a step towards me and held out his hand.

‘Give me your phone before you start blank-calling my cook.’

I smiled like a goof and handed him my phone without protest.

He fed in his number and hit the call button, disconnecting just as his phone started to ring.

He then saved his number on the contact card, grinning, and showed me the screen.

He’d saved himself as Hot Italian-Speaking Guy.

I held out my hand for his phone.

He handed it to me and I clicked on the latest missed call on his log and hit ‘save’.

There, now he had Bookstore Nerd’s number.

I smiled at his sheepish expression as he saw the name.

He took his phone out of my hand, and without breaking eye contact, locked my phone, took a step closer to me and dropped it into my tote.

My heart started doing that thing where it stopped listening to any logic or reasoning my brain was desperately trying to communicate to it.

The hair on my neck and arms prickled, my breaths came shorter and faster.

I could smell his aftershave like it was the only scent in the air.

And I was suddenly aware of how close he was standing to me.

His eyes slowly moved to my lips and I parted them without so much as a thought.

Was this happening?

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I took a soft step back and rested against the car’s door. He took a step closer and placed his left hand on the car, by my neck. With his right he cupped my face.

He leaned in and I could feel his lips brush my ear as he said, ‘Goodnight, gorgeous.’ And then a soft caress on my cheek.

I let out a shaky breath and managed to say, ‘Goodnight. Thanks. Dinner.’

Almost a whole sentence.

His thumb swiped gently across my jawline before he rocked back on his feet and tucked his hands into his pockets.

‘Don’t thank me,’ he said. ‘Meet me tomorrow?’

‘Try tomorrow?’ I asked softly.

‘Can’t wait.’ He smiled and stepped away.

I used all the strength and willpower left in me to move my limbs. I placed one foot after another and walked towards the complex gate, not daring to turn around, because something told me that if I did, I wouldn’t want to go home that night. At least not by myself.

I kept walking and didn’t turn around even as I reached the elevator in my building and pressed the button. I stepped in and pulled the grill gate shut behind me.

It was too soon. Why was I taking all of this so seriously? Why was my body betraying my mind? I’d been reading too many romance novels.

But what was I supposed to do about this stupid smile that I couldn’t wipe off my stupid face?

Goodnight, gorgeous.

The city lights blurred into streaks as Ashok drove me back to my apartment. I leaned back, one hand running over my jaw, trying to process the last few minutes. She’d looked up at me, wide-eyed and startled, when I’d cupped her face. Her skin was soft, her scent warm and floral, and when I leaned in close, I swear I could feel her heart racing as fast as mine.

And then I had said it. Goodnight, gorgeous.

I meant to pull back immediately—keep it smooth, like every other interaction—but my thumb had lingered a second too long on her cheek. My entire body was tense, every instinct fighting the urge to close that tiny gap between us and kiss her.

But I didn’t.

Why didn’t I?

I exhaled as Ashok slowed at a traffic light. I tapped my fingers against my knee and replayed the moment in my mind for the hundredth time. She’d smiled at me when I’d pulled away. Not her usual mischievous grin, but something softer. Warmer.

She’d liked it.

A car honked nearby, jolting me out of my thoughts. The light turned green, and Ashok smoothly guided us forward.

I hadn’t even turned on the music. That was unlike me. The quiet felt louder tonight, the weight of what had just happened filling every corner of the car.

I couldn’t shake the look in her eyes when I’d said goodnight. Like she’d been waiting for something, unsure if I’d give it to her. And maybe I didn’t—at least, not fully.

You’re playing it safe, Raina. Too safe.