Chapter Twelve
Twelve
Sunny
While we walked toward the meeting point, I checked my phone for any sort of update from my sisters, just in case something had happened between now and the last time I’d checked in. Their updates were enough to ease my worries and be in the moment. A moment that involved Bane standing beside me at the front courtyard water fountain waiting for the others to come down.
“Your sister and mother seem nice,” I commented, meaning to be sincere, but somehow, the words came out as a filler to cut through the silence.
“Thanks. They are.”
More silence.
Bane’s shoulder deflated as she turned to me. “Okay. We need to get some things straight if your friends are going to believe this. My family desperately wants to believe that I have a boyfriend, but your friends are probably more intuitive. Especially when we look like strangers together.”
I pulled my hands out of my pockets. “Better?”
Her brows went up. “Should I call one of my lovers to show you how it’s done?”
Something rancid nipped at my gut. The idea of Bane having other guys on her was…nah…it couldn’t be jealousy. It had to be disdain. “How many do you have again?”
“Not important. Just play the part. You need them off your back and I just want some peace. But also, this is a little fun, showcasing some acting skills.”
“If you say so.”
“I think you like messing with people, too.”
“I’ve given no indication to lead to such an assessment.”
“You were so wonderful with my family.”
“I’m not an ass, Bane. I’m a decent guy.”
“Are you sure?” She poked my chest. “Because you’ve fooled me.”
I took her hand so that her little pointy finger was still against my shirt. “You obviously don’t understand people.”
She leaned into me, her eyelashes thick and dark and her skin bright with a sun-enhanced glow. Had she always looked this nice, or was this the effects of the Hawaiian sky? “I know people better than you.”
“You talk. I observe.”
She took her hand back. “Okay, Mr. Observant. What do you call me?”
“Bane.”
She hit my arm. “No. A sweet nickname befitting a girlfriend. You cannot call me Bane. What the hell? Also, you shouldn’t call me that anyway.”
“Babe?”
She furrowed her brows, studying me like she knew this was a word that I would obviously never use. “Is that what you called your exes?”
“I called them by their names.”
“No term of endearment?”
“Not really. They have names for a reason.”
“ Babe sounds juvenile, silly even. It reminds me of Barbie, for some reason.”
“You’re the one who called me babe earlier,” I reminded.
“I clearly wasn’t thinking,” she retorted.
“You set a precedent.”
“No,” she grunted.
“What should I call you? What have your exes called you?”
“Sweetie. Sweetness. Sugar. Pumpkin.”
“So…food.”
“I guess so.”
“You must be edible.”
Her cheeks flushed, and mine probably did, too. Wasn’t sure why, or how, those words came out of my mouth. And now we were staring at each other again. Like idiots. Like anything other than a couple. I lost in this game of awkward chicken, my gaze flitting away and down, catching a glimpse of her low tank top. I swallowed, my eyes dropping lower to a pair of nice legs. She was toned, like maybe she jogged. Was that why she was always in joggers?
“So—why pumpkin?” I asked, not understanding why I insisted on knowing more. “Sounds like something a parent would call their kid.”
“Because I love fall and pumpkins.”
I groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who lives for PSL season.”
“I’m that basic white girl everyone jokes about.” She beamed. “I’m not ashamed.”
“Ah, to be that confident.”
“Big PSL energy the same way I bring big UX energy. Okay. I guess just call me by my name? My actual name. Can you do that? Or is that too much acting for you?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Bhanu. Bhanu. Bhanu.”
“Sunny!” Sam called from behind me. He had an arm wrapped around April’s shoulders.
The second April’s eyes landed on Bane, her entire face lit up. She even did a jump while clapping her hands once. Hurrying over, she nearly tackled Bane before she suddenly paused and extended a fist. “So wonderful to finally meet you!”
Bane looked utterly confused, and a little adorable, as she blinked at April before granting her a fist bump.
“I told her you aren’t comfortable with physical contact,” I explained. “This is April, the bride.”
“Oh! So lovely to meet you!” Bane replied, her entire demeanor a personified rainbow, all glamour and color. She looked so normal when she talked with others. Maybe she just had a thing against me? Maybe I’d find out by the end of this trip so we could be civil toward each other upon return.
“So nice to see you again, Sam,” she said to the groom, who didn’t try to physically greet her this time.
Before we knew it, the rest of the group had arrived, and April and Maya had gathered around Bane. I didn’t catch most of their conversation, but snippets led me to believe that they loved her hair and top…the very attractive top that made even Bane look sexy.
Sam and Aamar went to retrieve the cars, leaving Sejal and Pradeep off to the side by themselves, although one could tell that he wanted to talk to me. Sejal kept a grip on his arm and eyed me, then eyed Bane, who seemed wonderfully oblivious.
“Pradeep. Sejal,” I said.
“Hey, man! How’s it going?” Pradeep asked, moving away from Sejal’s hold. Poor guy. He seemed nice, and Sejal was probably going to ruin this trip for him because of me.
In a matter of minutes, the guys brought the cars around.
“Bhanu’s with us!” April declared, leading her to the “bride’s car” with Maya driving. Seemed that April aimed to sit in the back with a blatantly annoyed Sejal.
April gave Sejal a warning look, but Bane must’ve noticed. She frowned at me, like I was throwing her into the lion’s den.
“We’ll go together,” I said, wrapping an arm around Bane’s waist in a weird tug-of-war with April hooking arms with her.
“Nonsense. It’s a short drive. It’s fine,” April insisted.
“April…” I said, looking her dead in the eye, and she knew exactly what I meant.
“Oh, right.” She released Bane. “Sorry! I just love getting to know new people, but we have plenty of time for that! I didn’t mean to touch your arm without your consent.” Nice save. Except I’d touched Bane without her consent, but now she was nestled into my side of her own will.
“That’s okay. I appreciate the welcome,” Bane said with a generous tone.
We filed into our cars, and since we were part of the “groom’s side,” we now had one extra person. But the car was big enough for us.
“I’ll sit in the middle,” Bane offered.
“No, that’s okay.”
“You really want to sit with your legs squished in the middle car thing? It’s fine.”
No, what I really wanted was for her not to be sitting next to Pradeep. While he seemed like a nice person, I didn’t know him. But Bane was already scooting into the car.
Once in, we kept our hands to ourselves as the guys asked Bane all about her work and where she was from.
I let the conversation go for as long as Bane seemed comfortable. She gave vivid, energetic answers but never delved into many details. I clenched my fists in my lap as I watched Pradeep’s widespread knees inch closer and closer to Bane’s bare legs with every turn and bump, until his knee touched her.
I gritted my teeth and she tensed. I looked at him, my lips parting to tell him to move the hell away, when she scooted closer to me and politely told him, “Oh, do you mind?”
“Ah! Sorry about that.”
“Thanks.” She was much sweeter and nicer than I would’ve been.
Pradeep didn’t look at me. He kept his usual friendly smile on his face and paid attention to the information Sam and Aamar were throwing at us about the coffee farm.
With our thighs and arms smooshed together, I muttered in Bane’s ear, “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, why?” she whispered back.
“We’re touching?”
“I don’t mind.”
I tried to make myself smaller, but that was impossible in this car. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the cramped seats.”
She looked up at me, her face extremely close, her smell and warmth consuming. She gave a reassuring smile. “I know you. It’s fine.”
“Okay.” I would make sure we went in couples next time because Bane didn’t need to subject herself to this.
She also didn’t need me staring at her mouth like I’d never seen one before. Her lips twitched and I swallowed hard, dragging my gaze away and catching Aamar watching me from the rearview mirror with an amused smile.
Shit. But I supposed the game here was to convince my friends we were dating.
When we’d finally arrived and parked at a small parking lot adjacent to the farm, I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough, pulling Bane out after me. I kept glancing at her, searching her face for clues of discomfort. But she seemed to be fine, just as she’d said. If there was one thing I knew about Bane, it was that she spoke her mind. She’d tell me.
We spent the next half hour learning about the coffee planting, picking, cleaning, drying, parchment peeling, and roasting processes. Then we roasted our own beans in little roasters, where April giddily slapped on a label with the wedding date, names, and picture.
Then we stood at the top of a sloping hill covered in coffee plants. Bane and I stood off a short distance while the others, in pairs, took pictures and videos.
“Thanks for coming,” I began to tell her.
“Since it’s my fault? Yeah, yeah.”
“Yes, but I was going to say even though you had to be touched in a car.”
“Sounds much worse than it was. It’s okay.”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. We’ll go in couples from now on; otherwise you don’t need to come.”
She pouted. “Don’t break up the bride and groom cars.”
“You’ll either be touched or in the bride’s car without me.”
“I’m a big girl. I’m sure I can handle myself.”
“Or we can Uber.”
“No. Hang out with your friends. I do not mean to take you from them.”
I wasn’t expecting her consideration. In fact, she hadn’t complained once.
“Shame you guys didn’t come around February or March,” she said, looking down the slopes of endless rows of short coffee trees.
“Why? Less people? More available rooms?”
“Yes, but the Kona snow.”
“Snow?”
“All the coffee plants flower these tiny white blooms, and it looks like the plants are covered in a dusting of snow.”
“Ah. Sounds pretty.”
“Your friends are watching.”
I hesitated to look over my shoulder.
“Don’t tense up. Are you always this weird with your girlfriends?”
“I’m a grown-ass man who doesn’t know how to do this.”
“Lower your voice.” Bane smiled, twisting back and forth at the hip, taking the hem of my T-shirt and tugging.
Something rumbled in my gut. “What are you doing?”
“We’re supposed to look cute,” she muttered. “Mr. Grown-Ass Man is going to blow his cover if they hear you. You have to make it look believable when all eyes are on you.”
“Ah. They’re still watching?”
“Not at all inconspicuously.”
I tensed anyway. They probably all knew the truth and were exchanging expressions of sadness over my pitiful life. “So what should I do?”
“What do you mean?”
“To make this look believable.” I gestured with my hand, indicating the air in front of us as if it had to create the bulk of our illusion.
She shrugged. “How should I know?”
“You seem like you’d know.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged. “Don’t you know? What do you do when you date?”
“The better question is what do you do when you date?” She pressed a hand against my stomach. My stomach automatically clenched at the touch. What the hell was happening to me?
“Um. Maybe this?”
Bane kept her hand right where it was and looked up into my eyes. She said, “You’re in capable hands. If anything, we’ll just look like a bickering, awkward couple. And one of us is definitely awkward.”
“And one of us definitely bickers.”
There she went jabbing a finger into my chest. “You’re both, you know? A bickering, awkward dev.”
I took her hand, dropping it to our sides. “Yeah, yeah.”
We ended up walking on a dangerously narrow pathway alongside the road to a café up ahead. This wasn’t a sidewalk at all, evident by the lack of cement, but Sam and April wanted to try this place that made lattes with coffee grown from this farm. So we went.
We ordered in pairs, which quickly turned into the theme of this trip. I didn’t know what I wanted except something local. A quick decision. No one thought this hard on a coffee order. So lavender and macadamia nut it was.
It was a small place and Bane and I took our drinks outside.
“Don’t you want to spend time with your friends?” she asked.
“It’s crowded in there.” There was barely enough room for Sejal’s glares.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied with an appreciative smile, which fell flat as soon as we were outside, at a small metal table for two. Because from the corner of my peripheral vision, Bane’s little expression of confusion turned to realization, and was promptly followed by her signature smugness.
“Don’t start,” I warned her.
“Did you just get lavender coffee?”
“Don’t even say it.”
“Sunshine and flowers do go together.” She laughed in that devious way of hers, chin turned down, eyes raised to lock gazes dead on like a slightly aggressive way of saying: Behold my outright amusement at your expense.
“Yes. I like fruity, floral things. Get the jokes out of your system.”
Bane simply smiled. “It’s freaking cute.”
“Matches my personality perfectly, doesn’t it?” I asked drolly.
She leaned across the corner of the table and tugged on my sleeve. “You must think it’s somewhat adorable of your parents to name you Sunny because you have a little, teeny smile there.”
“I absolutely do not.”
She tapped my lips. “Boop. Must be a muscle twitch, then.”
For some reason beyond any sound logic, I found myself wanting to lick my lips where her touch left prickling specks of embers. Instead, because that would send the worst signal, I watched the door just behind her.
“My name means ‘sunny,’ you know?” she was saying while the breeze swept through her hair, sending her floral scent crashing into my skin. That was why I always smelled her when she was around, even before I saw her. Bane smelled like flowers. Gardenias, to be exact.
She readjusted some loose strands, tucking them back into her braids. I never thought anything of braids on a woman, but she made them attractive. I focused harder on the building, on the screen portion of the withered old door, willing Sam or April to come out and break this tension rising in my stomach.
Bane was still gabbing away about her aunt naming her and then asked, “Did your parents name you, or…”
My brow quirked up. “Who else would name me?”
She deadpanned. “A relative? A guru? An astrologist?”
“My mom named me. All by herself.”
Bane stared at me, not quite in the eye but somewhere near the vicinity.
“What?” I scowled as she smirked.
“I just want to iron out that little wrinkle between your brows.”
“There’s no wrinkle there. My face is as smooth as a baby’s butt.”
Bane took another sip, the half-melted ice sloshing around. “Did she have high hopes for your personality?”
“Watch it, Bane,” I replied with a hint of appreciation because that was pretty good. I had to hand it to her when it came to her jabs, delivered with accuracy and just the right mix of expression and tone.
“What? No smart-ass comeback?”
“If I had one, I would’ve already given it.”
“True.” She studied my face like she was reading code. “Dark. Brooding. Sure. It makes sense. Your mother must’ve seen it on your face the moment she laid eyes on you.”
“I was an adorable baby, the sunshine of her life. I don’t mind the name.”
“Because Sunny is pleasant. Unlike Bane.”
“Since Bhanu means ‘sunny,’ we can’t have two Sunnys, can we?”
“You’re right. That’s too much sunshine in the world.”
“I’m essentially saving the world from combusting from all this heat. You’re welcome, world.”
She rolled her eyes, but she’d never admit that my nickname for her bothered her, even a little. Or was in any way annoying. “As perplexing as you are, you’re a grump named sunshine. Ha! Get it!” She cackled.
“Smart-ass to the end. That wasn’t even funny.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“You must have that word confused with ‘unimpressed.’?”
She looked up from over the rim of her cup, her thick lashes fluttering. She didn’t have a comeback but held my gaze. And…well, maybe her face wasn’t hard to look at. All right, it was pretty easy, like the flash of a spectrum of colors with the movement of indented lines when scrolling through perfectly written code. Mesmerizing. Satisfying to watch.
What…the hell was I thinking? And why was I staring?
Bane blew out a breath. “So impassive. Do you even have emotions? Better yet, do you even know what emotions are?”
Ah, excellent. My stoicism was finally working in my favor. She couldn’t tell I was admiring those thick, dark lashes framing rich brown eyes, the sparkle of her nose stud on her petite nose, or those full lips stained with pink. Lips that puckered every time she took a sip.
Strange. When Sejal accused me of being robotic, it was a verbal stab, a brawl, a call to arms that both angered and ridiculed. When Bane said it, it was just her jesting, a way for us to keep volleying quips. And I didn’t mind it one binary byte.