Chapter Twenty-One
“Still Falling For You”
by Ellie Goulding
Meera
I find Lucy sitting on the sand by the shore, her legs crossed underneath her skirt. Her red hair is flying around in the wind like a raging flame, but even from the short distance between us, I can tell her eyes are wet.
“Hey,” I say, sitting down beside her. “You okay?”
Lucy turns her head the other way and wipes her nose with a dainty, shaky finger. “Yep. All good.”
“You don’t seem that good,” I mumble, spotting three empty beer bottles on the sand beside her.
“Very observant of you, Meera.” She pulls on a strand of her hair and blows air out through her mouth, then leans back. “I’ll be fine soon.”
I mimic her and rest my weight against my forearms. The waves run up to the shore of the beach, almost reaching the tips of our toes in our flip-flops before retreating into the ocean.
Lucy’s toes are painted a bright neon pink.
Mine are bare and cracked around the corners, in desperate need of a pedicure.
I laugh, and her head finally spins to regard me. “What?” she says.
“Nothing.” I nudge her toe with mine, and she visibly shivers. Then, tentatively, I add, “About that birthday present you got me…”
Lucy’s body stiffens. She looks away, frowning, and whispers, “Did you hate it? Was it too much?”
I grin. “I loved it. I can’t believe you’d do that for me. Thank you.”
She doesn’t reply, but I catch the small smile resting on her lips before her eyebrows thread together again, and she exhales, shoulders sinking.
“Hey,” I say. “Tell me why you’re upset.”
“No.”
“Tell me.” Even as I repeat myself, I’m not sure why I care. This is what I’d wanted all along, right? For Lucy to sink deeper and deeper, as far away from Sushant and success as possible, so I could rise up and get my revenge.
But, shit, seeing those damp green ocean eyes makes something inside me break. And I don’t like being broken.
I’m sure she doesn’t, either.
Lucy sits up and faces me, and I do the same. Her tears have dried now, leaving small dark trails of mascara down her cheeks. They’re pink from the cool breeze blowing around us. I have the weirdest urge to touch my fingers to those cheeks, to see if they’re as soft as my mind promises me they are.
I must be really drunk.
“I didn’t get into NYU.” Lucy says each word slowly, measurably, as though she’s weighing it on her tongue before letting it slip out. She grits her teeth and looks back to the water.
“Oh shit.” I duck my head and wait for the relief to come. Sushant’s going to New York. But now Lucy isn’t. This probably means their future together is at risk. I should be glad, gleeful, ecstatic. The old me would have been.
But I’m…not. And I know why after the Holi party. Because Sushant isn’t mine to keep. He never was.
“I should have applied to more than one school in New York,” Lucy says. She lifts her chin up and rubs her nose on the back of her hand. “My mistake was thinking everything would work out for me. It always used to. But not anymore, clearly.”
“Don’t say that—” I start, but she shoots me a fierce look that makes me shut up.
“It’s true, Meera. I had to step down as cheer captain, Sushant and I are probably over, and”—she cups her face with her hands and breaks down—“and now I don’t even have a reason to get away from Madre Maria, as far as I can. I’ll have to settle for going to LA.”
“Why do you want to get away?” I ask softly.
She raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Madre Maria’s great. It’s home. Why would you ever want to leave?”
Lucy avoids my gaze. She finds a stick lying a few feet away and swirls it around, making random shapes until she starts writing her name over and over again in the sand in her cutesy cursive handwriting. Lucy. Lucy. Lucy.
I’m about to repeat my question when she answers in her quiet voice, “Home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling. Of warmth and—and safety. And I don’t feel safe here. I don’t feel like I can be myself all the time. Not even most of the time.”
“Oh.” The word leaves my mouth slowly. I can’t relate. I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with Appa and Dad, with Valeria and Ron, with Sushant, roaming the streets of our little town, not a care in the world.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I scoot closer to Lucy, and she sets her head on my shoulder.
Her hair smells like roses and lilies—a combination that takes me back in time to ninth grade dance parties and Bollywood movie marathons when we’d fall asleep on the couch in front of the TV, right beside each other. I guess she never switched shampoos.
Some things never change.
I notice she’s shivering slightly, so I take off my flannel shirt and wrap it around her slender frame. She mutters a soft thank-you before leaning her head on my shoulder again.
“Maybe the next book club will cheer you up,” I say. “The week before prom.”
Lucy shrugs. “I haven’t even started reading it yet. I’ve been so busy being anxious and depressed and feeling like somebody else.”
“When was the last time you felt like you could be yourself?” I ask.
Lucy stares down at our sandy knees pressed together and radiating warmth between them. She raises her head and shifts so we’re no longer touching, then exhales shakily. “Right now.”
I look at her and grin. “That’s a good thing, right?”
She blinks back more tears as a weird shadow dawns on her face. “I—I should go.”
“Wait, Lucy!” I pull her down as she stands. She stumbles and falls into my lap. Her head bumps against mine, and we both jerk up, unable to stop the giggles bursting out from us.
But she doesn’t move away. Instead, she smiles at me, only inches between us. Her breath smells beery and yet sweet…delicious. “I’ve missed you, Meera.”
“I’ve missed you too.” My hand moves of its own accord to cup her face. Her skin is even softer than I thought. I tap on the side of her cheekbone, sharp and yet so smooth, and her face melts into a wide grin. For the first time tonight, she looks like she feels safe.
With me.
Her eyes fall to my mouth, and she runs her tongue over her perfect lips. The smile fades. She swallows and starts to pull back, but before she can put even an inch of distance between us, I wrap my arms around her waist and tug her closer.
And then I kiss her.
Lucy
The second our lips touch, I jerk away. Not because it feels scary, or confusing, or awkward. But because the zap of electricity surging between our mouths is too much to handle.
Despite that…I need more. I need her.
Meera gasps, her eyes wide and apologetic.
“Fuck, Lucy, I am so—” She shuts up when our lips meet again, and the sound that comes from the back of her throat—a cross between a groan and a purr—makes my insides clench with sheer joy.
Her hand weaves into my hair, her fingers skimming my scalp with just the right amount of pressure, while I dip my fingers into the loops of her shorts and pull her even more flush against me.
So this is what it feels like to kiss Meera Rao-George. This is what it feels like to let myself fall and be caught by the hands of someone I truly and unconditionally lo—
“Oh my God.”
The voice that carries over the wind makes us spring apart, but Sushant has already seen us. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there for. Even from a few feet away, his brown face looks an unpleasant shade of green and purple.
Meera opens her mouth to speak, but I launch up from her lap and race toward him. “Sushant, let me explain—”
There’s a hardness in his gaze. He breathes in and out deeply, his eyes flitting behind me to Meera and then back to me. “So this is why you were so fixated on Meera and me.”
I lower my head, wondering how to explain this to him. Hell, I can’t even explain this to myself. “I didn’t expect us to—”
“Not here.” Sushant glares, then hooks a thumb behind him and gestures for me to follow him to the other side of the beach, where the party’s happening. I cast a glance at Meera before I follow Sushant. Her head is in her hands, and I think she might be crying.
My heart aches, wishing I could kiss away her tears. But reality is sinking in. I’m Lucy, daughter of the very queerphobic Alice Miller and girlfriend of the sweetest guy in the world. There’s no way I could end up with a girl.
Sushant stops only when we’re standing in one corner of the party. It’s crowded enough that no one will notice us but still secluded, with no eavesdroppers. “Talk,” he says, his tone accusatory. “Now.”
I let the tears cascade down my face as I grip his fingers in mine.
Thankfully, he lets me hold his hand. “I think I’ve been in love with Meera for years.
I was just too scared to admit it. I wanted out of those feelings.
I wanted to not be in that situation, because I was so terrified of what it might mean for me. ”
Sushant’s fingers clench around my hand tensely. “So that’s why you two had a falling-out?”
“Yeah.”
He gasps. “And that’s why you started dating me. Because you needed a beard. Someone to hide the fact that you’re, what? Gay? Bi?” He whispers the last two words, perhaps so no one at the party overhears.
I shift my eyes, thinking back to my conversation with Julien. “I guess I’m…pansexual.”
Sushant lets go of my hand to put his fingers in his pockets. “Did you ever love me?”
I nod, aching for his touch again. “I did love you, Sushant. I do love you. In every way. But it’s just not—”
“It’s just not like it is with her.”
Slowly, I nod my head in a yes. “I’m sorry.”
Sushant stares into the distance, scratching his jaw. “I thought you were it for me, Lucy. The One, my soulmate, or whatever they call it in those romance novels you read.”
“I wanted that too,” I say, “and I tried my best to love you the way you love me—”
“No, stop.” He holds up a hand and steps away. “Don’t make me feel worse about this than I already do.”
“I’m so sorry.” I reach for him, my eyes squinting from the tears blurring my vision. “Maybe not all soulmates are romantic.”
“I wish we were.” A small but sad smile tugs at his lips. “Looks like the big promposal I was planning will have to be canceled.”
“I’m sorry, Sushant,” I say again as my heart sinks, thinking of how we’re both nominated for prom king and queen. And now…I’ve ruined it all.
He pulls me in for a hug and exhales as his grip finds my waist over Meera’s flannel shirt. I nestle into his warmth, into his spicy scent that I know like the back of my hand, for the very last time. “Take care, Lucy. I only want the best for you.”
“You too,” I murmur, kissing the side of his neck.
He pulls back with a grimace and walks away, his hands gripping fistfuls of his hair. I’m sure he’s crying too. But I can’t comfort him anymore. I’ve lost that right.
I rub my eyes with the flannel shirt’s sleeves and return to where we left Meera, but she’s not there anymore. In her place is a message with the stick I was using to write my name in the sand.
This was a mistake. I’m sorry.