Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty-three
Bhanu
Diya and Kimo were making a commotion in the kitchen, assuredly about cooking. Kimo required control when it came to cuisine. He’d learned from his grandparents, parents, and aunts and uncles and cousins and so on how to live off the land and work with fresh ingredients. His style was subtle but precise.
Diya, on the other hand, was like our mother, who threw in all the spices and salt without ever measuring. Kimo hip-pushed her out of the kitchen and she shoved him.
“Eh! What you doing? That’s hot oil!” he said.
“This needs more salt, it’s so bland,” Diya argued.
“Both you and this dish need to be less salty,” he shot back.
Sunny leaned against the couch as we both tried our best to pretend they weren’t arguing. “Are they always like this?”
“If you mean loud and in love, yes.”
“Ah. So this is love?”
“Yep. They are unapologetically themselves and can raise voices and throw opinions and disagree without fighting.”
“That’s not a fight?”
“Nope. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them fight, and never anything major. They’re both hardheaded and stonehearted,” I said with a laugh. “I mean, they’re not sensitive when it comes to taking things too personally or the wrong way.”
“Ah…must be nice,” he said with a hint of envy that had me wondering if Diya and Kimo reminded him of his ex. Had they fought lots of real fights? Or had they been silent fights? Both seemed terrible in their own ways. And I hated knowing that someone hurt Sunny as much as Sejal had.
I was a loud fighter, just like Diya. I got it all off my chest and then went quiet because fighting exhausted me, leeching more energy than work, conversations, and parties combined. But maybe fighting was part of relationships, part of communicating, part of passion. Because I didn’t remember having too many of them. My exes mistook my lack of throwing down in more than one or two fights as a lack of interest in them when really I just didn’t want drama.
“The wedding is tomorrow,” I said, saddened by the idea that our fantasy time was almost up. I really hoped we could return to reality as civil coworkers, maybe even friends.
“Yeah.”
“Should we stage a fight in front of your friends for maximum couple effect?” I asked.
He winced. “I don’t want to fight with you more than we already do.”
“But isn’t it realistic?”
“I don’t think my friends would want to remember us fighting instead of the actual wedding.”
“But we’re so memorable,” I jested.
“You’re just full of yourself and your hype-woman skills.”
“Aha! So you admit it. My skills are incomparable. Magnificent, even.”
“I absolutely did not say that.”
“It’s in your tone. I read subtext very clearly.”
He scoffed. “If only you brought this level of confidence to meetings.”
“Only if you can tone yours down a notch. No one likes being smothered by that much arrogance.”
“I just happen to be confident, charismatic even.”
I laughed. “Yeah, okay.”
Sunny pushed himself off the couch, his chin elevated so that he was looking down at me with brooding intensity. “Where’s the lie, though?”
Had his voice dropped? It seemed to make its mark, darting straight to my core. Ugh. I hated what his Denzel voice did to me.
I took a step to meet him before realizing something. “Wait. Are we expected to dance?”
He pondered as if this was an actual question.
“Sunny! Of course we are! It seals the whole illusion, or do you not dance? Do you just code and dive into the ocean to save sea turtles?”
“Don’t start.”
“What?” I asked, baffled.
“You better not start your shit with me.”
I smiled innocently and shimmied a little dance. Sunny groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re starting with me.”
I grinned, making subtle dance movements as I glided toward him. “We’ll have to dance, babe .”
“Stop,” he said, his voice a little lower, less its usual dry harshness.
“I’m not doing anything to you,” I teased, turning my back to him before our chests could touch. I may have accidentally slapped him with my ponytail.
From behind me, he let out a ragged breath. I imagined him standing akimbo, glaring at the back of my head, exasperated with me as he often was.
“Don’t we need to practice dancing so we look like a romantically involved couple who’s touched before? It’s okay, you know? You’re not going to combust. I know I’m sizzling, but…Do you even know how to dance?”
Sunny was probably more awkward than I was at dancing.
I imagined him stiff and unyielding, needing someone to literally drag him onto the dance floor, and even then he might just, barely, rock back and forth and call it a success. I giggled at the thought of Sunny, so commanding and in control, being hilariously cumbersome and out of his element.
My giggles were quickly stifled when his hands landed on my waist, the sheer warmth of his touch burning through my shirt and branding my skin. My breath caught in my throat. My body stilled, but not in a statue sort of way, where every muscle tensed and warning bells sounded…but in a melting, pleasant, never-let-go-of-me way.
I had to actively tell myself not to make a sound, not to flutter my eyes, not to tilt my head back, not to arch into him, not to sink into his chest.
My heart was beating so wildly that I was certain Sunny could hear it, could feel my pulse pounding against his palms where his hold had tightened.
The heat from his body intensified like solar flares, telling me that he was mere inches from pressing against my back, quite possibly centimeters. I was heady and hot, my thoughts swimming and my legs thrumming. Oh, boy. I was in so much trouble.
His voice was deep, guttural, a rumble in my ear when he spoke. “You started with me…”
I swallowed. Oh, lord. He sounded like he was about to flip me onto a bed and plunge deep into my soul until I didn’t have a coherent thought left. And curses to my body because it was responding with a sudden clench, an unfathomable need. These damn wheels were getting lubricated. “Oops…”
“Is this the plan?”
I swallowed. “It-it should be. Don’t you think?” Damnit, why did I sound breathy? He shouldn’t know what he was doing to me. It wasn’t right, not when we were coworkers vying for the same promotion. Not when this was a dumb fantasy ending tomorrow.
“So we don’t look like a fake couple,” he clarified, his lips so close to my ear that I could almost feel them brush my skin.
“Exactly. Wouldn’t want to make it to the finish line and get caught.”
“Do you know how to dance?” He gently squeezed one side of my waist and I almost catapulted out of my skin. Who told him he could be this sexy?
“Dance? Yes? Dance well? No…”
He chuckled. “And you were making fun of me ?”
I shrugged, only to have my right shoulder bump his chin. Oh, wow. He was standing so close. A shiver ran down my spine when he began to sway, taking my body with him. “I don’t think this is one of the dances…”
“Huh,” he grunted. “Thought couples danced like this at weddings?”
“Usually they face one another—”
He spun me, casting my breath right out of my lungs like some supernatural force. I, ungracefully, collided against him, chest to chest. A hard chest, yes, one that had probably formed with some type of exercise. Solid. Hot. Oh, my. Was I running a hand down his biceps and forearms? Yep. I remembered these carrying me.
Sunny’s biceps stretched against his T-shirt, and good lord, how was that simple flex so sexy? His hands were at my waist, like before, but now we were facing each other. His height enabled me to fixate on his throat, which was utterly mesmerizing when he swallowed. Enticing my tongue for a taste, maybe even to nip the rigid angle of his jaw.
His hand fell on the small of my back, a soft and pleasant sensation. His hand slipped even lower where my butt began to billow out from my back—because, yeah, I was thick right where I wanted to be—and a warm flutter eased up from my stomach. It was a whole other level of subtle touching, an entirely new layer of nerves that lit up and threatened to ignite.
Sunny leaned down and whispered, “Is this believable?”
I was staring at his lips and the flare of his nostrils, but mainly his mouth. This was a fleeting vacation fantasy disguised as fake dating to help a guy out, but I just wanted to kiss him.
I swallowed and nodded. “Very.” So much so that even I believed it.
The corner of his mouth curled up and my knees almost buckled. “Okay. Good.”
I’d never thought my grumpy, nerdy coworker could be so damn fine. Ugh. Like bite-my-lip kind of fine. Which had me thinking about all the places he could bite me. Which had me realizing that I wanted him to bite me.
My skin flushed and I took in a big breath, a giant heave. That inadvertently stretched my torso muscles, drawing his attention to my breasts. Even if it was a fleeting glance. He could bite there, too, if he wanted. Sunny was quick to look away, as uninterested as a guy could be. Well, hell. That hurt. But it was for the best. We weren’t here to get caught up in sultry moments and big mistakes.
It took a minute to realize that we were still swaying.
“How’s this?” he muttered.
“Better.” Ugh, nothing like being shown disinterest to halt the fantasy building in my head. My body followed suit. Shut that down.
“I don’t think your hands are supposed to be clenched into fists against my stomach?”
“Oh!” I relaxed my hands as they fell down. Oops! They didn’t need to fall that low. “Sorry,” I mumbled, fumbling to get my arms around his neck.
“Don’t strangle me, Bane.”
“Haha,” I said sarcastically.
“Why are you so tense?” he teased. “Are we fighting at the wedding dance?”
“We’re always fighting.”
“But this is a fake dating, fantasy vacation, wedding destination thing. No fighting in public.”
“Are you telling me how to act like a couple? You, who didn’t know how to act all this time and asking me what to do?”
“The smart-ass is back.”
“With a vengeance.”
He chuckled, his chest rumbling against mine, the friction so light against my breasts but might as well have been a jackhammer. Oh my lord. Did Sunny even realize he was touching my breasts? I mean, this wasn’t a sexual embrace and there were better ways to grope a woman, but technically, his chest was rubbing against mine…so technically his chest was groping me. Sunny was getting second-base action and he didn’t even know how lucky he was!
I took a step back, just enough to give the girls some breathing room. He should at least take me on a proper date first.
Sunny was sort of smiling. I wished he would stop that. It made him endearing and attractive and deliciously delectable.
My brain kicked in the second I registered the absolute silence around us. As in, there was no bickering, no sounds of frying or pots and pans or utensils or any movement coming from the kitchen. How could I forget where we were? Without looking, I knew my sister was watching us.
“We’re not alone,” I mumbled.
Sunny and I immediately took a huge step away from each other. He scratched the back of his neck and let his hand hang there. I’d never seen him flustered. It was a cute look on him.
“Dinner almost done?” I asked, swinging my gaze toward the kitchen, only to find Kimo leaning against the counter and Diya with her phone to her face.
I cried, “Were you videoing us? Delete that!”
“No!” she refuted, tapping away on her phone.
I rushed toward her, practically tossing aside the couch and entire chairs. “Don’t send that to anyone!”
She gave her screen a final, dramatic tap right as I reached her. “Oh? What did you say?”
My phone pinged. Damnit, Diya. She’d WhatsApp’d that video to our family chat. Within seconds, our mother was going to be gushing and asking for details so she could work through the mighty desi auntie network and find every ounce of information on Sunny and then proceed to plot out our entire future. By the time I responded to the chat, my mother would have found out Sunny’s complete biodata down to his height, income, and how many vacation days he had left so he could best utilize them for a big fat Indian wedding.
There was no point in arguing with Diya. She couldn’t retract that video any more than either of us could stop our mother from pressuring us to get married every single time we talked to her.
I shook my head as Diya innocently shrugged. Around us, a dozen WhatsApp notification pings went off like musical notes in the background of a thriller.
“Really?” I asked.
“Really,” she replied.
“Are you actually so invested in us, or are you deflecting?”
“Both.”
“Watch it, little sister, or I’ll be sending Mummie videos of you smooching Kimo.”
Diya narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I smirked. No one out-bested the elder sister. Our mom was pretty liberal with us dating. Obviously, we were grown women, living on our own with our careers and lives, but that didn’t mean Mummie hadn’t retained some tradition when it came to Indian dating. She didn’t care about the race or religion of our boyfriends, as long as they respected ours and made us happy and indulged Mummie in a giant desi wedding with grandchildren soon after.
If she saw a video of Diya and Kimo getting cozy, she was sure to swoop in with marriage talk, focusing on the child who’d been in a happy, loving, committed relationship much longer than the elder child, who had just, seemingly, hooked a guy. It was basic logic. Marriage was much closer on the horizon with a long-term relationship in hand as opposed to a brand-new guy out of the blue.
Diya deflated. “I’ll behave.”
“Good. Is dinner ready? What can I help with?”
We had an enjoyable dinner on the lanai watching the sunset cast magical colors amid a cool ocean breeze, and where I’d never been more aware of Sunny sitting next to me. Instead of drinks into the night, Diya drove Kimo to pick up his Jeep from the shop—turned out driving a vehicle all up and down lava rocks and rough terrain required more maintenance than the typical paved-road-only car.
Sunny had swung his feet down from the lounge chair, checking his phone for the hundredth time, leaning onto his thighs, stretching the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders. With the sunset rays cast over him, he looked quite handsome.
“You look so serious. Or is that your ate-too-much face?” he said.
“So funny for a guy who never got his own hotel room and is shacking up in my bed.”
He laughed so that his smile reached his eyes, setting them aglow like I’d never seen them. His teeth flashed, a few pointed at the ends and undeniably attractive.
I didn’t know if I wanted to slap that smile off his face or kiss a mouth that could do some naughty things to me.