Chapter Twenty-Two #2
All I can do is tell Lucy I’m about to sleep and we’ll talk later. I race to the window, open it, and look down, but no one’s there. Sushant stands by his window across from my bedroom, though, muscled arms folded, glaring at me. In his hand is his cell phone. He holds it up.
I take out my phone from my back pocket and look at the screen. There’s a text from him from five minutes ago.
Sushant:
We should talk. Come over
I shake my head at him and reply, It’s late
There’s no way I’m ready to talk to the boy I used to love, who spotted me kissing his girlfriend, whose life I tried to destroy. Nope. Not happening. No fucking way.
Sushant:
If you’re not coming over, I am
I hesitate, then text back, I don’t think our folks would be ok with us meeting this late. Talk tomorrow?
Sushant:
Our windows are only a few feet apart. Climb in
A laugh escapes my mouth, loud enough to carry over the wind. He laughs right back—although his is more sarcastic—and waits, arms still folded. He looks pissed. Rightfully so.
Licking my lips, I look back at my closed door. Appa’s most definitely already asleep, and Dad seemed to have only been waiting up for me. There’s no way they’d come to my room to check on me.
So I whoosh air out of my mouth and climb out to the tree that stands between our windows. I don’t look down even once. It’s not that high up, but it’s still a fucking tree. If I fall, I’ll break a bone, but more than that, I’ll wake my parents. And that’s a scarier thought.
Sushant helps me into his room, grabbing my hands and stepping away as soon as I’m on my feet, pausing only to close the window. I guess I deserve this. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it.
Sushant sits down in his revolving desk chair while I continue to stand by the window. Then he crosses one leg over the other. “Explain, Meera.”
And so I do.
Lucy
The tears I shed over Meera’s message in the sand have dried on my cheeks, leaving nothing but mascara stains in their wake. I touch up my makeup with what’s in my compact and then ring the bell to the side of the Rao-Georges’ front door.
I have never been good at confrontation.
It’s not easy to be good at it when the front you show the world is a facade and nothing more.
But I can’t stop thinking about our kiss.
I can’t stop clutching the sides of Meera’s flannel shirt in my hands, and I can’t ignore the fact that I know what her lips taste like, what they feel like pressed against mine.
Sushant and I are done, and there’s no way to undo that. I thought Meera and I were over for good by my doing, but she’s wormed her way back into my life—into my heart—and I can’t let this be the end of us, not even if she won’t answer my calls. Because I think she might love me like I love—
“Lucy?” Mr. Rao opens the door, stifling a yawn with one hand and scratching the base of his neck with the other. He wears a faded pajama set, his eyes bleary. “What are you doing here so late?”
I fumble with the sleeves of Meera’s shirt. “I need to return Meera’s shirt. And also, I need to talk to her.”
Mr. Rao steps back to let me in, a curious expression on his face as I take off my flip-flops at the door. “Have you been crying, putta? Is everything okay?”
Forcing myself to smile, I nod. “Yes. Can I go up to Meera’s room? She asked me to come over.” The lie falls out of my mouth before I can stop it. Hopefully, he’ll buy it.
He holds up a hand and climbs the stairs barefoot, pausing outside her door. “Well,” he says once he comes back down, “her lights are still on. She’s definitely awake. Go ahead.”
The hammering of my heart mimics the knock that sounds on Meera’s door. There’s no response, but I can’t turn back now. Slowly, I try the knob. The door swings open, and I walk inside and shut it behind me. “Meera, I—”
Wait. The room is empty. The comforter has fallen off one side of the bed, the sheets are wrinkly, and cool air blows through the open window. In the distance, I can hear two people arguing in soft voices. And I’d recognize those voices anywhere, though I can’t make out the words.
I step closer to the window, careful not to be spotted by Meera and Sushant. They’re both standing near his desk. Sushant’s head is hung, his gaze averted, while Meera is making a pleading gesture with her hands. She’s crying.
What is going on? I move back, confused. Why is Meera in Sushant’s bedroom this late at night? Did he want to talk to her about our kiss? Is she asking for his forgiveness?
I shouldn’t be here. I should not be spying on the girl I’m in love with and the boy who has always loved me.
I take off the flannel shirt, fold it, and set it on the foot of the bed, then walk over to the door.
Just as I’m about to leave, I take one final look at Meera’s room.
I haven’t been here in nearly two years.
It still looks the same: barely-there lighting, midnight-blue walls, her tarot and crystal collections on the light-brown desk, the whiteboard full of Bollywood quotes—
Except there isn’t a single movie quote on it this time.
I clap a hand over my mouth and walk over to the whiteboard, which has the words THE PLAN: DATE SUSHANT & DETHRONE LUCY at the very top.
Below is a bullet-point list that says Step 1: Keep your enemies closer—book club, Step 2: Inner circle—get invited to parties, Step 3: Become Sushant’s confidante, and finally—
My breath stalls in my throat. Tears burn my eyes for the fourth time tonight. Because the final item on the list is Step 4: Break them up.
No, no, no, this can’t be happening. This—this is—I can’t—
I shake my head and bolt down the stairs. Mr. Rao hastens from the kitchen when he hears me, a glass of turmeric milk in his hand. “Lucy?”
“Good night, Mr. Rao,” I yelp as I put my flip-flops back on and run into the street. Mr. Rao calls out my name in a hushed whisper, but I don’t stop until I’m at my house.
I lean against the front door and cradle my head in my hands, trying to breathe.
Inhale…Meera was only nice to me so she could dethrone me and date my boyfriend…
Exhale. Inhale…She kissed me so Sushant would see us and break up with me for good…
Exhale. Inhale…She doesn’t love me, and this was all just for show…
At the final exhale, I wipe my eyes and go upstairs to my room, to the comfort of my bed. I put my head between my knees, breathing in and out for ten counts before sitting back upright and jutting my chin out.
Meera may have succeeded in breaking up my relationship, and she may have gotten under my skin and broken down my defenses for the second time.
But she will not get to break me down. I’m Lucy fucking Hughson for a reason.
She will never hurt me again.