Chapter 8
Ishika
“So he wants to be ‘just friends’?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t try to flirt, even when you gave him a hand job?”
“I’m going to strangle you if you bring that up again. It was an accident.”
“Is he big?”
“Yep.”
“He has six-pack abs and firm butt cheeks too.”
“Yep.”
“And he was really excited when you gave him a rub-a-dub-dub, but he still didn’t hit on you? Did you try flashing him a boob?”
“Sadie. Focus. I don’t think he is into me like that. Why else would he friend zone me?”
“Maybe he thinks you have a third nipple? Show him those perky bazookas.”
“If you talk about my breasts one more time—” I warn, leaning on to the table and getting comfortable. I was soaring in the high skies thinking I affected Ryan. I didn’t intend to do anything about it, but it was good for my self-esteem. Now I feel deflated.
Sadie had come over the other night and we had discussed that I should go and apologize. Make Ryan breakfast, invite Owen along so I wasn’t sending any mixed messages. I had even planned the entire talk I would give Ryan if he tried seducing me with his smoldering looks and sensuous touch.
If he tried to kiss me, I would say, “Ryan, please keep your hands to yourself. I belong to another man. I’ll never sleep with you. No offense, but I am not into flings and one-night stands. Let’s be friends instead.”
Asshole beat me to it!
Sadie chuckles loudly. “That’s your real issue, Ishy, that he beat you to it.”
“Did I say that loud?”
“Yes, you totally did. But it’s okay. We will get him another time, bestie.”
“I thought he was coming on to me but I forgot he probably admires half the female population the same way.”
She giggles some more. “Which is perfect because when Brent is jealous and he grovels, begging you to give him a chance, you’ll have the perfect reason to break up with Ryan.”
“Which is?”
“Ryan has wandering eyes.”
“And I have rolling eyes. This is so lame, Sadie.”
“Ishy, you haven’t dated anyone in a long time.
You never had a boyfriend in your entire life because you were convinced that your dad wouldn’t approve.
If this pretend hot boyfriend is going to give you a chance of normalcy, then you’ll take this opportunity and have fun for once.
You’ll learn to flirt and enjoy the power you have over the opposite sex.
And if the opportunity presents itself, you’ll indulge in amazing sex. ”
“I will not!”
“Listen to me. I’m not telling you to rip Ryan’s clothes off the first chance you get.
But we both know Brent is not staying celibate all this time.
Feminism is about equality. Be a proud feminist and support the good cause.
Why are the rules one thing for the girls and different for the boys?
I’m telling you, Ishika, there is nothing wrong in getting some practice.
If in your pretend relationship phase there comes a point where your ovaries are combusting in Ryan’s presence, you will take the leap and not feel guilty about it.
Sex is a natural thing and this way you will know if Brent is a delicious apple, mediocre apple, or a bad apple.
Now tell me. Where did you guys decide to go for your first date? ”
“He’s taking me to Parakalo.”
“Oh! The bad boy’s got taste. But Brent has his papa’s money. At least you’ll have a gold coffin when you die.”
I get her sarcasm.
“I’m not interested in Brent for his family’s money.
Why would I be, when my father makes just as much?
I’m interested because our backgrounds are similar.
He is half Portuguese American and half Indian American just like me.
Our grandparents were friends and we grew up together.
Our career goals are similar. He is an easy fit.
I like easy, Sadie. I like uncomplicated, predictable, and not dangerous.
And Ryan is...everything I should not crave. ”
I didn’t tell Sadie about what happened between Ryan and me all those years ago. I did not tell her my first kiss was with Ryan and not Brent.
Don’t know why, but I wanted to treasure that one memory about Ryan. It was mine to keep, mine and mine alone. Well, it was also his. I don’t know if he still remembers kissing me that night.
“But, Ishy, forbidden things are so delicious. So let me more about Ryan. You said he doesn’t want your money because of this friendship?”
“Yes, he agreed to help me out on one condition, that I keep my money to myself. I think he’s offended I even offered to pay him. He said if I ever brought up the topic of paying him for his services, our friendship will be null and void.”
“Oh, Ishy, he sounds like so much potential. You have to give this arrangement a fair try. Consider this your internship for the actual big job. Pretend date Ryan to actually date Brent or someone better than Brent. See this totally makes sense. I don’t get why you’re so nervous?”
If only I could explain to Sadie how I don’t trust myself with Ryan.
The liquid desire and wild impulsive urge that erupts inside me every time we are in close proximity is something I have never experienced before.
It terrifies me because while my rational mind knows he is so wrong, I want to give in to the temptation and taste him just once.
Today is our test date. Ryan said it was a good idea to know a little more about each other before we pretended to be a couple.
The project, ‘Make Brent Jealous,’ is going to gear into action from the second date onward. I picked a few places Brent hung out with his friends or took his dates for dinner. Ryan readily agreed to all my suggestions, we even synced our calendars before I left his house.
I even wrote an agreement down; one month of pretending to be deeply attracted to each other and then we would go our separate ways.
I had one month’s worth of stamina left in me to pursue Brent.
If this fails and Brent still doesn’t ask me out, then I am going to move on with my life.
Brent or no Brent, I have goals to achieve and missions to accomplish.
I will make do with Mr. Dildo for my sinfully ever after.
I have a list for a not-Brent-compatible-life too.
I have plans to freeze my eggs and when I am pushing forty, I will let my avó hook me up with a single dad or a widower from Portugal or India.
That way, I can engineer my marital bliss and still be a wife and a mother once I have achieved to reach the peak of my career.
Who needs love to survive when there is social standing, accomplishments, money, and fame?
“What’s your favorite color?” I ask Ryan.
We are in this expensive Greek restaurant.
The food here is to die for and when you are served a slice of paradise in every mouthful, no one complains about the price tag.
This establishment makes you feel classy from the moment you enter through the door.
The place boasts of tasteful pieces of Greek art on the walls and the seating is cozy and intimate.
The lighting is dim and the low hum of Greek music accentuates the whole experience.
I am dressed in a blue lace dress, and my lips are painted hot pink.
Sadie insisted on doing my makeup, she drew my winged eyeliner and dusted the rose gold and silver blue eye shadow.
She curled my hair to fall like a waterfall.
I am glad that I made an effort because Ryan looks so dashing.
He wears a light blue dress shirt, cuffs rolled up to his elbows and black slacks.
His hair is neatly styled for once. This is also the first time I am seeing him clean-shaven.
The dimple on the groove of his cheek is very prominent and his arm tattoo peeks out from his rolled sleeves whenever he moves his hand.
On his left forearm is a long tattoo of an arrow cutting through crescent moons.
On his wrist is a tattoo of waves trapped inside a pyramid.
He wears an old antique watch with a dark brown leather strap on his right wrist. I know he has ink on his biceps and back.
Is it too soon to ask him what these tattoos mean?
“Take a guess?” he says, interrupting my thoughts, one side of his lips raising. His dimple inviting and daring me to lick it.
We just finished our entrée: lamb dolmades, spicy baked feta, olives, pickled beets, and a basket of crusty sourdough bread dressed with olive oil.
“Blue, black, or white?” I say, resting my face on my hand. I’ve hardly met a male who doesn’t choose from the three colors I listed.
“Wrong. It’s actually honey, whiskey, and chocolate. Those are my favorite colors. They remind me of your eyes.”
My heart squeezes and then it races fast.
“Man, you are good,” I state, shaking my head at him.
His smile is lazy and his eyes are soft.
I don’t know if it’s the ambience and food or just Ryan.
But I am feeling relaxed and happy. Ryan doesn’t feel like a stranger tonight.
He doesn’t feel scary or dangerous. He feels like someone who is invested in me.
Like someone who wants to know the real me and with whom I can risk being myself.
Maybe Ryan is growing on me or maybe it’s the red wine making me like this Ryan a little too much.
“I should learn this, you know. The art of flirting. Every time I’m on a date, I end up giving my date tips on flossing and dental hygiene.”
He breaks into a soft grin, showing me his pearly whites. He has really good teeth. His lips are pink mixed with hues of red.
Yep! I just thought about his cock again.
“So you’re good at your job, and it shows,” Ryan says, ignorant of my thoughts.
“You think so?” I say, clearing my throat and dismissing my dirty mind.
“Absolutely, as long as you don’t grab your date’s crotch in public you are safe from a legal suit.”
I pick up an olive and fling it at Ryan. It hits his forehead and then drops on his plate. He picks it up and pops it in his mouth, chewing and smiling.
God, I need a photo of his lopsided grin.