Chapter Twelve
“I Like Me Better”
by Lauv
Lucy
I haven’t spoken to Sushant in person since I ran out of his bedroom earlier today.
He texted me to check in, and I said we could talk at the party.
But I’ve been avoiding him. I don’t know if he spotted me sneaking off to the library, but he hasn’t tried to find me. Maybe he wants to give me more space.
But space isn’t going to help me forget the coconutty scent of Meera’s shampoo, which refuses to leave my nostrils. So I clear my throat, down a shot from the tray on the coffee table, and waltz over to the kitchen island, where Sushant stands.
The open kitchen is terribly crowded and smells of beer, sour cream dip, and, well, sweat.
The beer pong game must have ended, because the guys on the football, swim, and hockey teams are just sipping their drinks.
Seth is making obscene gestures with his hand while everyone laughs, Sushant included.
“Hey, babe,” I greet him.
His whole face lights up as he sets his cup down.
He reaches forward to kiss me, then excuses himself from the guys and walks us over to a slightly isolated corner.
Before I can ask him if he wants another drink, Sushant puts his arms around my waist and tugs me to his chest, lifting my feet off the ground.
“I missed you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry about earlier. ”
I breathe in the smell of him—cinnamon spice and the laundry detergent his mom buys from the Indian grocery store—and sigh loudly. “I’m sorry too. I should have told you I’m not ready yet.”
Sushant sets me down on my feet again and groans into his hands. “I should have asked you first. I can’t believe I was such an ass.”
“Hey.” I pull on his T-shirt, and he bends so I can reach his face. I kiss him once on the nose, twice on the cheeks, and thrice on the lips, and by the time we break apart, he has the widest dimpled smile on his face.
“I love you so much,” he whispers, thumping his hand against his chest. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I love you too.” I press my cheek against his shoulder, promising myself that I’m worthy of Sushant’s love, that my feelings for him are true now, even if they weren’t once upon a time.
But today has been…a lot, and fatigue is seeping into my bones.
I pull away and say, “I’m tired. Can we go home? ”
Sushant laughs. “Someday, when you say that, it’ll mean our home. In New York.” He cups my cheeks in his hands and adds, “NYU is sending out acceptances soon. And Coach said we should be hearing back from Syracuse about the scholarship any day now.”
Yes. I grin and kiss him hard, pushing him against the wall, and a moan escapes his lips as his hands find my hips. The sooner New York is set in stone, the sooner I can embrace Sushant in every way possible and let go of Madre Maria…and Meera. And then everything will be perfect.
“My God, get a room.” We break apart at Natalie’s giggle. She looks drunk—her cheeks are flushed, and she’s sweaty from all the dancing. “Has either of you seen Julien? We were dancing, and then I lost him.”
“I think I saw him go down the hallway a while ago.” Sushant looks around, frowning. “There’s a library and another bathroom over there.”
Natalie blows a kiss at us. “Thanks! See you in school on Monday, Lucy.” As she walks away, I catch sight of Meera talking to one of the cheerleaders who attended the book club.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Do not tell me they’re starting to like her.
I won’t be able to deal with Meera showing up to our lunch table and being weirdly nice like she has been all month.
“Shall we?” Sushant holds his arm out, and I wind mine through it, looking away from Meera just as she turns toward us.
We’ve both had a little to drink, and we didn’t bring our cars, anyway, so we walk down the street, hand in hand, talking about going to Central Park someday and the New York Public Library, of course, and which neighborhood we might be able to afford when we move there.
After we kiss goodbye, I unlock my front door and find Mom standing in the living room, dressed in a silk nightgown, yelling into the phone.
“No, goddamn it, we don’t want you here or any of your filthy family money.
I wouldn’t take it even if we needed it, you motherf—” She whirls around at the sound of the door closing, and her jaw drops when she sees me.
“I’ll call you later,” she mumbles, and throws her phone on the couch beside her.
“Hi, Mom,” I say cautiously, stepping inside, my eyes on her phone. Filthy family money? I recall Mom telling me about Grandpa’s death and the large sum he left my father. “Were you just talking to Dad? Did he call again?”
Mom laughs shrilly, but her voice cracks in between. “It’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart. He’ll stop bothering us soon enough. Why don’t you go to bed?”
I look from the phone to my mother. Was Dad calling me earlier to ask if he could support me through college?
Natalie thought it would be a good idea, and maybe she isn’t wrong.
If Dad wants to make amends by paying for my tuition, I could let him.
It doesn’t mean I have to forgive him. He owes me at least this much for not bothering to fight for me during the divorce. What kind of father does that?
Maybe it’s the alcohol or how much she’s been around me lately, but the one thing I ask myself before speaking is this: What would Meera Rao-George do? I hold out my hand and tap my heel against the tiled flooring. “Give me your phone, Mom.”
Her face darkens even as her brow lifts up. “Lucy, go to bed.”
“Mom.” I step forward, licking my lips, still eyeing her phone. “I know you have my college fund, but if Dad’s offering to support me with Grandpa’s money, let him. A New York lifestyle isn’t cheap. Sushant doesn’t come from money, either.”
She grabs her phone and hides it behind her back. Her chest is heaving; her eyes are wet. “Go to bed.”
“No,” I say. The courage coursing through my veins feels alien, like I’ve put on someone else’s personality. Meera’s, perhaps. “I’m almost eighteen, and he’s my father. Taking his money doesn’t have to mean we forgive him. It’ll make our lives easier, which is the least he could do, honestly.”
She looks up to the ceiling as though she’s talking to God in her head, then takes out her phone and waves it in my face.
“Yes. It was him on the phone. But you know what, Lucy? He doesn’t get to support you or make your life easier, because he’s not your father anymore.
We’re all the family each other’s got, you get me? ”
“But—”
Mom plants a fake, watery smile on her face and waves her fingers at me, and it breaks my heart to see her crying. “I’m going to bed. Good night, Lucy.”
I lower my head and nod. “Good night, Mom.” She pads up the stairs to her room without looking back. So much for embodying my inner Meera Rao-George.
Meera
On Monday, I’m waiting for Sushant by the bus stop after an especially heavy breakfast of uthappam topped with shredded coconut, tomatoes, and onions—Appa’s family recipe, which I mastered years ago. The bus is coming any minute, but Sushant is nowhere to be found.
Is he unwell? Maybe he had too much beer at the party and had a raging hangover just like I did. I’d thought throwing up right after drinking would help, but I had a blinding headache all day yesterday anyway.
Thank goodness Appa and Dad didn’t suspect anything.
I stayed in my room, played Gryffin songs on loop, and read the first few chapters of the desi young adult romance Lucy picked for the book club meeting next month.
Ron and Valeria didn’t reply to my texts asking what they’re up to, which is weird, but I’ll see them at school.
Besides, I spent all of yesterday figuring out how to tell them about the party and apologize for lying to them.
I’ll wait for the right time—maybe during lunch, when neither of them is cranky or hangry.
“WOOOO!”
I nearly jump out of my skin as Sushant runs out of his house, arms raised to the sky, a big grin breaking out across his face.
“What happened?” I ask, staring as he chucks his backpack onto the ground and does a very famous Bollywood song-and-dance sequence from the early 2000s, popularized by Hrithik Roshan well before we were born. If it weren’t seven a.m. on a weekday, I’d think he was high.
Sushant dances for a few more seconds, singing the iconic Hindi song loudly, and finally grabs his backpack and wipes his forehead with a whoosh of breath. Then he smiles at me. “Meera, guess what? I got into Syracuse on a football scholarship!”
I freeze. Syracuse. In New York. Which has always been Lucy’s dream. And now Sushant’s going there too. For real. A beat passes; then I force myself to gasp and jump up and down. “Oh my God, Sushant, that’s great news!”
He beams at me. “Isn’t it? Coach is psyched too. Oh, and I’m telling Lucy when I see her, so keep your lips sealed.” He puts his fingers near my mouth and mimes zipping it shut.
“I promise.” I ignore the heat radiating from his fingers and give him a thumbs-up. “I haven’t spoken to Lucy since the party anyway.”
“Oh, you ran into her there?” Sushant raises a brow just as the bus stops in front of us. We climb in and take our usual seats in the middle, and he adds, “I didn’t see her until the beer pong game ended.”
“She was in the library.” I grab my earphones, set my bag by my feet, and push the window open, breathing in the cool breeze and soaking in the bright sunlight that washes over my face.
When Sushant doesn’t respond, I turn around in my seat. His eyebrows are arched, and he looks like he’s trying to piece something together.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He grimaces rather nervously. “Nothing. Never mind.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, then nod, although I’m so desperately wishing he’d tell me what he’s thinking. “Okay.”
A few minutes later, the bus lurches to a stop. Sushant leans away from the aisle as more people climb in, his gaze fixed on me. When I tug one earphone out and frown at him, he asks, “Lucy was in the library? For how long?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Why?”
Sushant shuffles in place, shadows falling over his brown skin. “I don’t know. It’s just…I thought Julien was hiding out there after he had another joint. He gets very literary when he’s high. Seth found him asleep with his head in a book after the party ended and he was cleaning up.”
Wait a minute. Is Sushant…jealous? I can’t seem too eager, or he’ll get suspicious.
However, I do need to egg him on, ask him if he thinks there’s anything between the two of them.
But when I open my mouth to add fuel to the fire, only the truth comes out.
“Julien wasn’t in the library when Lucy was. ”
Fuck. Why the hell did I say that?
The relief on Sushant’s face is almost palpable. “Really?” He sinks back into his seat and closes his eyes. “Thank goodness. I was scared because she was upset with me and—”
“Why was she upset?” I ask.
He turns to me and rakes a hand through his hair, smiling awkwardly. “That’s kind of a private matter, Meera.”
“Right, of course.” I put my earphone in again, cringing.
Only Gryffin can save me from this embarrassment.
The electronic beats pound in my ears, and Sushant heads to the back to talk to other people who take the bus with us.
I rest my head against the window as we pass by Lucy’s house.
Ms. Miller, dressed in a pin-striped jumpsuit, is finally mowing the overgrown lawn.
The Plan is working so far. After I left the bathroom, I spoke to at least five people at the party who wouldn’t have otherwise given me the time of day. Sushant is having doubts about his relationship with Lucy. And as for Lucy…she doesn’t have a clue what I’m doing.
But my stomach churns, and a sheen of sweat breaks out on my chest at the possibility of my getting everything I’ve ever wanted, and I can’t figure out if it’s excitement, anticipation, or a sign from the Universe telling me to stop before it’s too late.