Chapter Thirty-One
Thirty-one
Bhanu
The venue, part indoors and part outdoors, had been transformed into a reception while the wedding party took endless pictures on the beach against the majestic colors of a descending sun. The couple would probably be back and forth to capture just the right moment at sunset.
I was content in watching from afar, and happy to have escaped the pressure of being part of the wedding album. We would forget this time soon enough without photographic evidence of our fake relationship ever having occurred.
What a sobering thought, really.
I tried my best to stay in an empty corner. The amount of people and noise was getting to me, and if I didn’t act first, then an anxiety attack was sure to happen. But I was really wanting a dance with Sunny. Just one more moment before this all came to an end.
Several people had approached to ask who I was and how I knew the couple, as they’d never seen me around and surely they’d remember someone so…beautiful. Purple hair. They could say it. The hair, since not the face, was memorable. Thanking one after another on how lovely I looked was making me more self-conscious than ever. No one, and I mean no one, was as made up as I was except for the bride and her bridesmaids.
Ugh. Diya and her antics.
Oh, well. I was still a princess until midnight, or whenever I decided to wash off my face.
While the wedding party wound down on the last of their pictures, at least for now, the buffet came out. Staff arranged platters of appetizers and drinks on the far table, and I wasn’t shy about partaking. I was here for the food, and cake. But I guess I had to wait on the couple for the latter.
I sipped champagne from a flute and eyed slivers of veggies twisted into flowers and thinly cut meats topped with real flowers. There were balls of fruit and sweet rice wrapped in taro leaves. Everything with a toothpick in it for easy grabbing and quick eating.
“Don’t fill up just yet.” Sunny’s Denzel voice was in my ear.
I jumped, almost losing the rest of my drink.
He laughed, his hand on my waist and his mouth near my ear again. Except this time, there was a pause. I could feel the rush of air on my neck as he inhaled, deep and long.
“Did you…did you just sniff me?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t help it.”
I bit my lip. I didn’t understand, didn’t know how, but that was the sexiest thing ever. His hand on my waist tightened and he took another sniff right as I turned. Our mouths were alarmingly close to each other.
He swallowed, and I stared at his mouth. That perfect, skilled mouth.
My lips parted. I didn’t know why. I had nothing to say. Words escaped me. Words didn’t exist. What was speech?
“They have the wrapped shrimp still!” someone behind us exclaimed, shattering our trance.
Sunny led me away with a hand on my lower back. “Let’s go to our table before we get run down.”
He pulled out a chair for me.
“Oh, thank you. Such a gentleman.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said with a wink as he sat beside me.
Servers had filled fancy stemmed drinkware with ice water while serving wine and tea and probably everything under the setting sun at the bar where a good-sized crowd had already gathered. “Looks like people are about to really enjoy themselves.”
“Bunch of drunks.” Sunny swerved back to look at me, asking, “Do you want a drink?”
“Are you calling me one of these bunches of drunks?”
“Yes.”
I laughed, holding up my champagne. “I’m still working on this.”
“Might as well. I don’t think they make dragon fruit colada or ube drinks.”
“Such a shame.”
“Hey!” Aamar said, sliding into his seat as we were joined by the rest of the wedding party.
Of course we were seated at the wedding party table right next to the immediate family to the bride and groom.
I was glad not to be near Sejal, to avoid her glances, whatever they might be. All focus should be on the happy couple. But the truth was, being close to Sunny made everything else disappear. We were floating in a bubble drifting on this moment in time. Cocooned and safe and warm and content.
As soon as the chairs were filled, we immediately stood and applauded when the host announced the newly married Mr. and Mrs. As we took our seats again, the couple commenced with the first dance as photographers and videographers floated around them. The father-daughter dance and the mother-son dance. Then the entire wedding party.
Sunny stood and lifted his hand to me. I blankly stared at it. “Huh?”
“We have to slow dance,” he said.
“That wasn’t in the rules.”
He deadpanned, like really?
I shook my head. A slow dance was fine, but an integral wedding party dance?
“You just hold on to me and sway. Please?” he implored, his eyes soft, his expression pleading. He probably knew how hard it was to deny that face. Maybe that was why he looked grumpy all the time. His lethally handsome expression could take over entire worlds.
I swallowed. From behind Sunny, the rest of the wedding party waited for us, for me. I sighed.
I took Sunny’s hand, and he swept me onto my feet. The music started before we merged into the smiling crowd, where each person from the wedding party, as well as immediate family, looked into the eyes of their significant other and moved with the gentle cadence of the song.
To be honest, it was hard not to fall into a sense of romance. The archway of flowers towered over us, the music was moving and smooth, we were all dressed up in our best, surrounded by lovely decor of white linens and roses and lilies, an ocean breeze sweeping through, and Sunny’s hand on my waist.
“Thank you,” he said, drawing me into him so that our chests were almost touching.
“What are girlfriends for?” I replied, my eyes fluttering away from the intensity of his gaze and to his hands as they took mine and placed them at his shoulders while I tried my best to stay out of the photographer’s frames. Once even ducking and tucking my face into his chest and ever so thankful that setting spray prevented my makeup from smearing onto his suit.
“You won’t combust, I promise.”
Was he sure about that?
As we danced, in what was perhaps the world’s longest slow dance, the lights dimmed, and damn if the romantic element didn’t kick up a notch. I giggled at the absurdity. Were they trying to make everyone else fall in love?
“What’s so funny?” Sunny asked, the corner of his mouth curled as if he found my random amusement amusing himself.
“Nothing…”
“But you’re still smiling?”
I tucked my forehead against the crook of his neck and he held me closer, our chests now definitely touching. I felt his hands slowly, delicately glide over my waist to my lower back. And then go just a bit lower. I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from moaning. How was this such a turn-on? How was he such a turn-on?
“I think your ex was crazy for leaving you…” I found myself saying. Aloud .
If Sunny had heard me, he didn’t react. Of course, he was pretty good at not reacting. Maybe he didn’t care, or maybe I’d crossed a sensitive line. For some reason, I wanted to know if he still had feelings for her. But then what? Would I feel hurt, or would I try to be a friend and talk him through it? Both? What would I say? I’d escaped drama most of my life and stayed out of other people’s messes, but for once, I wanted to be pulled into his, if only to help him through it, if only to be this close to him for a while longer.
“Are you okay?” he muttered against my cheek.
“Yes, why?”
“You’re tense.” He began to move his hands back to my waist, back to a respectable place for two people who had, not too long ago, pretty much hated each other.
“No,” I said and guided his hands back to where they had been.
“Okay,” he whispered.
His breath crashed against my temple when he asked, “Is this okay?” His hands dipped just a little lower, to the curve of my spine where my butt ballooned out.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
“This is, um, very nice.” He tapped the top of my butt, and I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning like a fool.
“Ah, you can thank my mama.” Thank her genes and good cooking, and those bored days at home doing squats to the beat of ’90s pop in front of a rainy window.
“Thank you, Auntie.”
I buried my laugh against his neck.
In another instant, the song was over. Sunny left one hand on the curve of my backside and ushered me to our table, pulling the chair out for me once again.
Before he sat down, he slipped off his jacket and draped it around his chair with a sigh of contentment. I imagined he’d been broiling in that jacket.
He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves halfway up thick forearms. And I was shamelessly staring. How was that so incredibly hot? Two veins bulged out of his forearms and my thoughts instantly flashed before my eyes, images of my tongue licking across them.
Okay. Wow . Calm down.
“Can you see?” He looked at me from over his shoulder as the couple, still on the dance floor, took a microphone.
“Through that big head?”
He dramatically threw his head back and rearranged our chairs so that we were at an angle, instead of pushed into the table. “Now?”
“Better.” I leaned around him.
He gripped the underside of my chair and pulled me toward him, until the gap between us had closed. I clenched his forearm as if the sudden movement would’ve actually sent me flying off my seat. My knees uncrossed for a second in the jostle. Sunny placed a hand on my bare knee, muttering, “You okay? Gonna survive?”
I leaned toward him, still clutching his arm. I sort of really liked holding on to him, especially when his arm felt so warm and muscular and solid and real and welcoming and protective and basically everything that made my body respond, that made me want to stay attached to him. My thumb felt over the ridge of the veins I’d just been ogling. Yeah. This was ridiculously erotic.
He didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t shift away. He didn’t remove his hand from my knee, either.
We sat like that, turning our attention to the couple as they gave small speeches and thanked everyone. Then their parents and siblings followed with short speeches of their own. Tears and emotions ensued. Pictures were snapped and the crowd applauded, cheered, wiped their own tears, and so on.
What did we do? We didn’t move, not even for a single clap where warranted. We were glued to each other and preferred to stay that way. I adjusted my crossed legs so that they were tilted toward Sunny’s thigh, which alleviated some pressure off my heels in these shoes. With his hand in place, the movement allowed the hem of my dress to shift up, exposing another inch of my skin. Another inch where his fingers made contact. An inch where his thumb caressed the inside of my knee.
My breath stilled. I didn’t understand how such a simple touch could nearly unravel me. I’d had boyfriends and encounters before. Why was this so different? Why was this so fervent?
His thumb started with a quick movement. Maybe a twitch that he didn’t mean?
Then it glided back. Okay…maybe he was just readjusting to the previous position.
Then it glided back and forth. Slowly. Consistently. Sending an ever-expanding bolt of lightning up my inner thigh until one more stroke sent the sensation shooting to my core.
I clenched my grip around his arm and my thighs. Crap. I didn’t mean to. That was definitely out of my control, and now he knew what he was doing to me with this subtle movement that no one else noticed. The room was getting hotter. That breeze wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.
He tilted his chin so that his profile came into better view. Sunny was smirking. He knew exactly what his touch was doing to me. More than that, he liked what his touch was doing to me. Which meant Sunny liked touching me. And that, well, that just turned me on even more.
The couple moved on to the cake.
“Finally,” I said, breathless.
Sunny gave me a look.
“What? You know I only came for the cake.” I winked and stood as sexily as possible. But first, I leaned into Sunny so that one arm was pressed against his, giving him a good view down the top of my dress. This push-up bra was killing it, and his lingering glance at my display proved it.
“I’m going for the cake,” I said. “Want some?”
“I’m here for the cake, too.”
I returned with plenty of lemon cake smothered in decadent frosting with a mini yellow orchid. By then, plates full of food had appeared in my absence. But dessert first.
We ate and I listened to others chat, easing out of the conversation to avoid being overwhelmed with the crowds and noise and attention. I could focus on food.
One by one, the wedding party returned to the dance floor, leaving our table empty. They urged us to join them. Sam was even tugging on Sunny’s sleeve, and I could tell it was getting harder for him to decline.
“You should go,” I insisted. “My feet are starting to hurt. Don’t worry about me.”
Sunny raised a brow. “Who said I was even thinking about you?”
I knew he was obviously joking, but why did the idea of him not thinking about me hurt? This was desperate, dark water I was wading into, and that was dangerous for a fake relationship. Sure, we were living a trope that played out well in books and movies. But we lived in the real world. This was real life. And as soon as these people were off the island, Sunny and I would go back to being bickering coworkers who lived an hour apart and one of us, perhaps, would resent the other for getting the PM position.
“You should enjoy your friends’ wedding. Go. Dance. We’re almost over, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cut out a little early to enjoy what you came here for.”
We’re almost over . More words shooting pangs through my chest.
Sunny watched me, back to being impassive and thoughtful, quiet. I couldn’t gauge a reaction, a sentiment, anything from him. Ah, yes, we were effortlessly creeping back to reality, to what we were before this vacation and what we would return to afterward.
He pressed his lips into a line and looked at my hand before taking it into his own. “Come dance with me.”
I squawked out a laugh, quickly covering my mouth as the song changed tempo to something more energetic. “I’m not a good dancer.”
“I’m sure you’re great.”
I tilted toward him. “I’m saving you from being embarrassed.”
He tilted toward me. “Embarrassing me is your favorite pastime.”
I leaned in even more. “It would be too easy to annihilate your entire reputation with one move. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
He leaned in even more. “I would love for you to annihilate me with one move.”
Why was he so close? So close that his breath smelled of champagne and cake. So close that my lips could almost feel his. So close that he could probably hear my pulse raging behind my ears, my heart beating through my chest.
I sat back, forcing myself to unravel from this fantasy before it entangled me.
I shrugged, teasing at maybe a yes. The truth was, while these events almost always proved to be too much for my anxiety, my body wanted nothing more than to be in his arms.