Chapter 26 #3
She can feel her lips pulling into a smile as well.
Some part of her notes how this is skirting into dangerous territory, him saying things like this, his hands braced on the counter on either side of her hips.
They’re not at school, or volunteering, or with the Lions.
They’re in a kitchen with the blinds drawn on every window, and they have been alone for the past hour.
His smile fades slightly, and he glances down, as if realizing where he is for the first time. Then—he looks back up, and their eyes meet. She has an electric, funny feeling in her stomach that they’re both thinking the same thing.
They could do anything right now. And no one would ever have to know.
Rajan pushes away, back to the stove. “You’re right. It’s hot in here.”
The rest of the world surges back. The dim lighting, the sound of water running distantly from down the hall. The burning smell...of roti on the stove.
Flustered, frustrated, Simran flips it quickly. “Maybe you should take off your hoodie.”
“Trying to get me naked already?” He grins, but then immediately disappears into the hall to shout for his brothers to come eat.
Simran, meanwhile, tries to collect herself.
It’s one of those times she could swear she’s not the only one who feels the pull.
But that’s ridiculous. Rajan gave her tips on how to kiss Jassa.
A jealous boy doesn’t do that. Besides, Rajan’s type is people like Zohra and Chandani.
Whatever category that is, Simran knows she’s not in it.
She heads to the dining table with the food, where Rajan and Yash are already setting up. “Sukha’s not coming?” she asks.
Rajan pours them all water. “Telling me to go to hell would be a weird way of saying he was.”
Yash explains, “Sukha’s turning into Rajan. I think it’s a phase.”
“Turning into Rajan?” Simran sends Rajan an amused look. “What does that mean?”
“I dunno, but I don’t wanna go through it,” Yash says. “I think it’s like puberty, but worse.”
Simran laughs, while Rajan goes behind his chair and puts him in a headlock. “Stop talking shit about me in front of her, you little dick.” Yash pretends to get choked out. Rajan releases him and pushes his head forward, affectionate, before sitting next to Simran.
And then they eat. The sabji is delicious.
The company is even better. Simran tells Rajan about her cousin’s boyfriend drama, which Rajan is delighted by, and in turn he tells her what he’s learned about the other youth on probation simply by eavesdropping on Kat’s secretary’s phone calls.
Gossiping still comes easy to them, it seems.
Yash warms up the more Simran and Rajan talk.
Eventually, he pitches in too, and Simran learns he’s a chatterbox.
When he brings up his math woes at school, Simran tells him to bring his homework over, and she helps with the word problem he was struggling with.
They exchange numbers in case he gets stuck again.
She loves it all—the low-stakes conversation, warm home-cooked food, sitting next to Rajan, who occasionally stretches and drapes his arm over the back of her chair.
..it’s so normal. She’s forgotten what that feels like.
When their plates are scraped clean, Yash excuses himself, taking the dishes to the kitchen. Rajan says, “He hasn’t talked that much in a while. He likes you.”
“Probably because I just promised to help him with all his future math homework.”
“Nah, it’s more than that. But since you brought it up.” His hand on the back of her chair tugs her braid gently. “That was real nice of you, Auntie.”
She blushes. Rajan drums his fingers on the back of her chair. She feels every vibration like it’s on her skin.
“So how’d you do it?” he asks out of nowhere.
“How’d I what?”
“How’d you crack the cipher?”
She glances his way. His gaze isn’t accusing anymore. He looks...curious. Begrudgingly so. Like he’s been wondering this whole time and couldn’t stop himself from asking any longer.
“Give me a pen,” she says at last, and he gets up to find one.
She shows every step to him on a paper towel: how she went from a list of numbers to coordinates. From coordinates to a string of letters. And finally, from letters to a grid.
As she circles the words transposed in the columns, he says, fondly, “You are such a fucking nerd.”
She grins widely. Even re-creating the process gives her an echo of the rush. “Could the accountant you found to replace me do that?”
“Sahiba, there is nobody on earth who could replace you.” He takes the pen from her. “I was just hoping the Lions would never realize that.”
She wants to ask how he found this accountant when the Lions were having so much trouble, but she doesn’t want to argue again when tonight has been so wonderful. So she says nothing.
Her phone buzzes. Her dad, asking when she’ll be home.
“Everything okay?” Rajan asks. “You need an alibi?”
She answers soon and tucks the phone away. “No. I don’t need excuses anymore.”
“And it makes you feel like shit,” he surmises quietly.
She can’t answer. So often growing up she wished she could go to a friend’s house without it being a big deal. But now that she has that luxury—now that she’s at a boy’s house and no one notices—she just feels guilty. Of course her parents don’t notice. Her mom’s in the hospital.
She pushes her chair back. “I should go.”
Rajan gets to his feet, too. “I better go lock myself in my room so Sukha can eat without damaging his pride.”
Despite herself, she smiles. “He sounds like you.”
“I sure hope not,” Rajan mutters darkly. “Did you know he got arrested the other day? I think he might be running with the Lions.”
So that’s what’s happening. “You know that for certain?”
“No. But he won’t tell me anything.” He shakes his head as he walks her to the door. “I don’t know how to stop him from making my mistakes.”
He sounds bitter. Simran chews her lip in thought. “Hillway has a program for at-risk kids,” she offers. “The next workshop is in a few weeks. I’ll send you the link.”
“He won’t go to that.”
“Just suggest it. He might not listen now, but he’ll come around.”
Rajan glances at her sideways. “That approach hasn’t been working on you.”
Simran flushes. “We’re not the same.”
“Why? Because you’re better than him?” His voice goes flat. “Because he’s a fucked-up kid from a fucked-up family and his brother set a shitty example by joining a gang and going to jail?”
She flushes harder. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” He pins her with his gaze. She can actually feel the carefree evening dissolving, the lights flicking back on to reveal the mess between them.
Car headlights stream through the blinds. A vehicle is rolling into the driveway. Rajan glances out at it. “Never mind. You should go.”
She sighs. Right when she’s putting her shoes on, the door opens from the outside, and there stands a man as tall as Rajan, with a five o’clock shadow, wearing a wrinkled collared shirt. He’s handsome; she can see Rajan’s full mouth and high cheekbones on him, but his eyes are dull.
It must be his father. “Sat Sri Akaal—”
Rajan interrupts her. “This is Simran, my Hillway mentor. She just dropped me off. She’s leaving.”
Simran drops her hands. Does he really need to protect her reputation to his own father?
Rajan’s father smiles at Simran, speaking in Punjabi. “Now, where are our manners? Please stay for dinner, or chah?”
“We already ate, but thank you. I should go. It’s getting late.”
“Yes. I’m sorry Rajan made you drive all the way out here.”
She winces. That wasn’t what she meant. “No, it’s okay. I offered.”
And then, because the silence becomes awkward, she bids her goodbyes and leaves.
Rajan and his father watch her get in her truck from the front door. His father’s still smiling when he says, in low, sharp Punjabi, “Are you out of your mind? What are you doing with that girl?”
Simran waves at Rajan. He waves back, then watches her truck roll down the street. “Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. Everyone knows the Aujla girl. She’s got a bright future. Do you have no shame?”
“Like she said, she offered me a ride home.”
“And had dinner.” He nods to the kitchen. “If you get her off her studies or god forbid, pregnant—”
Rajan contemplates flinging himself in front of a bus. “I just said we’re not—”
“I would say you’ll feel remorse once you destroy her life,” his father says. “But I already know from experience that isn’t true.”
He leaves Rajan at the door, staring at the footprints Simran left in the dirt on her way out.