Chapter Ten
“The Story Of Us (Taylor’s Version)”
by Taylor Swift
Meera
In the six years since Café Kismat opened, I have never seen all our tables occupied.
Dad sectioned off a space in between the tarot corner and the counter with four tables for the book club—we got twelve RSVPs—but the room is packed with at least thirty members who showed up last-minute, eager to discuss the twists and turns of Prada, Purrs, and Prejudice with Lucy.
And, of course, they’re all sipping iced coffees.
Our iced coffees. Natalie’s here with her camera, taking photographs every few minutes, after having set up my phone in a corner to stream the discussion live on our Instagram.
She’s really great at it. I wonder if it’s something she wants to pursue as a career or if it’s just a hobby.
The door opens, and another two people walk in. Even Appa, who usually sticks to bookkeeping and tarot, has to help out at the counter today because Dad, Danny, and I cannot possibly take this many orders or make this much coffee.
It’s funny so many people are actively contributing to the discussion questions, considering we only gave them two and a half weeks to read the 250-page book. I’d thought nobody would finish reading it so quickly, but clearly, I was wrong.
Lucy sits in the middle of the crowd, clad in flared pants and a yellow crop top, her legs crossed and her eyebrows furrowed. “What did everyone think of Wick and his betrayal?”
“Oh my God.” Amy from the theater club rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “I thought Wick was so cool up until I read Darcy’s DM to Liz.”
“And he just kept getting worse and worse,” the swim team captain says, nodding in agreement.
He’s the sole guy here apart from Ron and Sushant, who must only be here for moral support—he doesn’t even have a copy of the book with him as he sits next to Lucy with a glass of water because he hates coffee.
“I was afraid for poor Lydia, backed into a corner like that. Thank God Darcy helped her with the abortion.”
Lucy’s eyes sparkle as she listens to everyone chime in with their thoughts.
Someone who’s read the original Austen novel talks about the modernization of what constitutes, in their words, social suicide, and Lucy nods, encouraging them to elaborate.
She’s enjoying every second of this—and I hate to admit it, but so am I, even though I’ve never read Jane Austen and I only flipped through this month’s book.
About fifty minutes into the discussion, Lucy introduces the book for the discussion happening next month.
“We’re taking a much-needed diverse turn this time, and Mr. Rao will certainly enjoy this one.
” At that, Appa looks over at the book she’s holding up.
“This desi young adult romance talks about astrology and destiny in the contemporary world and shows the reader what it’s like for Indian American teens to come to terms with their identity and culture. ”
I lock eyes with her from across the table I’m cleaning, and she adds, “Meera, I’d love to get your thoughts on this one, if you’d like to join us next time.”
Luckily, I don’t drop the tray of dirty dishes in my hands. For the first time since the conception of the Plan, she’s being nice to me. It’s jarring. I smile and nod, although having the eyes of over thirty popular teens on me makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. “Sure.”
As the discussion wraps up, I take off my apron, hang it behind the counter, and walk over to Ron and Valeria’s table. Just like Sushant came here for Lucy, they came to offer moral support to me. “So, this went well,” I say as I plop down on the empty chair next to Valeria.
“Very well.” Ron nods and claps softly. “What’s the next phase of the Plan?”
I blow out a breath. Over the past two weeks, I scribbled nonstop on the whiteboard and got plenty of use out of the eraser.
But I’ve finally settled on the four steps of the Plan, and they seem foolproof, albeit challenging.
Step 1: Keep your enemies closer—book club.
Step 2: Inner circle—get invited to parties.
Step 3: Become Sushant’s confidante. And Step 4: Break them up.
I haven’t yet figured out how to successfully complete each step, but playing it by ear and trusting my gut seems to be working well for me so far.
“I need to get more popular,” I finally answer, jiggling my foot under the table. “And the way to do that is to get invited to parties. Somehow. Hopefully.”
“Ooh, that sounds fun,” Valeria gushes. “I can’t wait to get superdrunk on disgusting beer after we all score invites!”
Ron smirks and punches her playfully on the shoulder. “And I can’t wait to hear you rant about your first-ever hangover the next morning.”
She glares at him in mock anger. “Oh, you’d better be prepared to nurse me back to health, mister. I won’t be a fun patient.”
I excuse myself and return to my shift while they continue obliviously flirting with each other. A few of the book club members are at the counter, ordering another round of coffees.
While Danny and Appa ring up the orders, Dad pulls me into the kitchen and hugs me. Tightly. I’m taken aback, and just as I start to return the gesture, he holds me at arm’s length and peers at me from under his glasses. “Meera, your father and I were not at all sure about this idea of yours.”
“Dad—”
“But we have to admit, it worked just as you’d predicted.” He wipes a tear from the side of his eye. “Business has never been this good. So, thank you, kiddo. I love you.”
I take his hands in mine and grin. “I love you too, Dad. Does this mean I get to make some changes to the menu?”
“Oh, why not?” Dad squeezes my fingers, chuckling. “You’re going to run this place when we’re old and gray anyway. Might as well get a head start, hmm?”
When I head back into the café, a huge grin on my face, my friends are preparing to leave. “Rom-com marathon tonight at my place, seven-ish?” Valeria suggests, while Ron swings his car keys around on his finger. “There’s, like, a bunch of new movies on Netflix.”
“Only if at least one of them is Bollywood,” I say, wrapping my arms around them in a group goodbye hug.
“The marathon’s gonna last a full twenty-four hours, then,” Ron quips, eyebrow quirked. Valeria smacks him on the back, and laughing, they head out to his car.
I turn to get back to my shift and bump heads with Lucy. “Ow,” I groan, rubbing the side of my forehead. “That hurt.”
She winces. “Sorry.” But she doesn’t step aside to let me pass. At my frown, she laces her fingers and asks, “You still do Saturday night movie marathons, then?”
When we were friends, every Saturday night was movie marathon night. Mostly Bollywood with subtitles on for Lucy’s sake, but the occasional classic teen rom-com too. I swipe a lock of hair behind my ear and duck my head, nodding. “I do. They’re fun.”
“Yeah, they are.”
I look up, and she’s staring at me, her face blank, but I notice her kneading her thumb into her knuckles, which is something she does when she’s…nervous. Why is she nervous?
The swim team captain walks over to us, breaking our staring contest, and puts his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, Meera.”
“Uh—I—hi, Seth,” I blubber. Oh my God. The hottest guy in school has got his arm around me. I can see the outline of his abs through his fitted shirt, and his muscled bicep is resting on my body. Holy fuck.
“That was a great discussion,” he says, looking between me and Lucy. “I’m definitely going to borrow the desi book for the next one.”
Wow, his arm is heavy. I try not to fall from the weight of it while Lucy nods politely and says, “Thank you for coming, Seth.”
Finally, he steps away, hands in his pockets, and turns to me. “So, there’s a party at my place tonight. Feel free to drop by.”
“Like, as a guest?” My eyebrows feel like they’ve shot up into my hairline. “At—at your party?”
Lucy bites her lip, but a beautiful grin peeks out anyway. I side-eye her.
“Yeah, as a guest, obviously,” he confirms, then heads for the door. “I gotta go. See y’all tonight!”
Oh my God. The superhot captain of the swim team wants me to come to his party.
At his house. Step 2 is happening already.
“Bye!” I yell after Seth in the most high-pitched, squeaky voice ever.
Then I turn to Lucy and grab hold of her hands without thinking twice.
“I just got invited to Seth fucking Simons’s party,” I whisper, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Lucy, do you know what this means?”
Her wide eyes fall to our hands, and she jerks hers away and wipes them on her pants. Ouch. “That you’ll have to miss it because you have plans with your friends?”
This is when three things hit me: (1) My instinctual reaction to gush about this to Lucy is inappropriate, considering she’s my sworn enemy; (2) I’m going to have to ditch Val and Ron for the first time ever; and (3) I just got invited to a fucking party at the fucking swim team captain’s house. Oh my God.
Lucy
I lean back against the car’s headrest, eyes closed, while Sushant drives me home. My skin still tingles where Meera touched me. I can’t help but press my hands along my clothes, trying to get the imprint of her fingers off me. But it doesn’t work, because she’s imprinted in my mind too.
I clench my jaw. She still does Saturday movie nights. With her new friends. Do they love Bollywood as much as I do? Do they laugh when Meera jumps around and mimics the wacky dance moves during the song sequences? Do they stand and join in like I used to?
“Hey, mind if we take a detour?” Sushant asks, and I rouse from my thoughts. He’s turning the car away from my house. His phone, open to his family’s group chat, rests on his lap.
“What detour?” I rub my eyes, pretending like I’ve woken up from sleep, and look around. We’re pulling onto the street that leads to his house.
Sushant turns to me, his dimples deepening. “My family will be out until the evening for Dheeraj’s piano recital.”
My heart clenches painfully. I know what he’s implying. An empty house means we get all the alone time he wants. We want, I mean. I want it too. I just don’t know if I want it right now.
It’s terrifying to think about losing my virginity. Is it because I grew up Christian? My mother never had the Talk with me, not even when she met Sushant. Maybe she thinks taking me to church every Sunday will keep me chaste.
I know I’m not ready to have sex just yet, but it’s only a matter of time…Sushant and I will move in together eventually when we go to New York. I do love him. So why wait?
Sushant pulls into his driveway, switches off the car engine, and turns to me.
After I unbuckle my seat belt, he licks his lips and tugs me in for a kiss.
I wrap my hands around his shoulders, feeling the heat between our bodies.
I can’t tell if the energy coursing through me is fear, excitement, nerves, or a combination of all three.
His mouth traces my jawline, my neck, my shoulder. He stops right below my collarbone. “Do you, um”—his voice is hoarse against my chest—“want to come in?”
I pull him up to face level and kiss him. “Yes,” I breathe.
It’s time.
Sushant unlocks his front door and calls out for his parents and Dadima. The house is silent and dark, and nobody answers. He grins and scoops me into his arms. “I love you, Lucy,” he whispers against my mouth.
“I love you too.” I press my lips to his neck, and he carries me to his bedroom.
He kicks the door open, and we enter the room I’ve only been in a few times before—other rare instances when he was home alone.
But my eyes linger not on his unmade bed or the freshly cleaned laundry sitting in a basket on the floor, but on his window.
The window that faces Meera’s house. She’s not home; her shift at Café Kismat must not have ended yet. But I can see the dark blue walls of her bedroom and the faint edge of the whiteboard that faces her bed. I spent hours in that bed, laughing with her, looking at her, pining for her.
Sushant sets me on his bed and notices my slack jaw and where I’m looking. “Sorry, I should close the blinds,” he says, laughing. “Never done this before.”
The room plunges into darkness as he tugs the curtains over the window. I force myself to laugh back, but my limbs are rigid, my heart pounding, as a bead of sweat drops down the back of my neck. What am I doing?
Sushant joins me on the bed, his gaze dreamlike.
“So, where were we?” He pushes my hair off my right shoulder, dropping kisses on my exposed skin.
It feels good—being with him always does—but a million thoughts race through my mind as his touch hardens and his kisses deepen.
Am I really going to have sex with my boyfriend today? Right now?
He pulls me over him, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.” My body says, No, Lucy, you can’t do this; you’re not ready just yet.
His hand snakes along my hips, hot and eager, the words “I love you” on his lips, but his warm touch still makes me shiver. My mind says, Yes, it’s logically the right time; you’ve been together for over a year now.
He pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the ground. I stare into his hooded eyes, and my heart says, He doesn’t even know your relationship was once a lie. If he knew, he would leave you. As he ought to.
Just as Sushant pops open the button to my pants, I sit up and push away from him. “No, Sushant, wait.” I breathe as a wave of panic sweeps over me. “I’m sorry, but—I—I can’t do this.”
“Lucy.” He stands, giving me some space, and just when I think I’ve upset him, he kneels in front of the bed, tapping the side of my cheek. “It’s okay. We don’t have to.”
I nod, but when I look up, my foggy eyes find the window behind Sushant, and now my head is spinning and my heart is hammering and I can’t breathe and—
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Sushant helps me sit on the edge of the bed and puts my head between my knees. “Relax. I’m here. It’s okay.”
I surface two minutes later, my breathing steady again, tears streaming down my face. “I—I should head home. Seth’s party is in a couple hours, and I need to shower first.”
“Okay, let me just get the car keys—”
“I can walk,” I reply, and Sushant’s face falls. Before he can say anything, I peck him on the lips and leave his bedroom. To his credit, he doesn’t chase after me or ask if we’re still going to the party together. He knows when I need space and when I don’t.
As I walk past Meera’s house, her dog, Raj, must sense my presence, because he yips and barks from inside, but I purposely don’t look at her front door. I’ve hurt Sushant enough today. I don’t need to hurt myself too.