“Think you’re so smart,” she muttered, pushing her foot against my hip again.
I grabbed her foot and swiped my thumb across the arch. “You better watch it.”
I glanced back at Bane when she didn’t respond. She was biting her lower lip and staring at the water, her fists clenched around the sand. I immediately released her foot. “Sorry.”
“What?” She stared at me, almost stunned.
“Your foot. Didn’t mean to touch you…”
Her eyes were dazed, her chest heaving with a pant. “Oh…no. That’s…fine.”
Hold on. Was she blushing? No, couldn’t be. Logically, the sun was causing that rosy glow. Therefore, as deductive reasoning would conclude, Bane was simply sunburned.
Bane was not turned on.
Seventeen Bhanu
“Mummie has been blowing up my phone for updates,” Diya had been telling me later that day while I stole glances at the closed bedroom door. It sounded like the shower might still be on, but who could tell through two solid doors and a wall?
“Please, do not get your hopes up.”
“You tell them to calm down.”
“I have and I will again. But can you, for your part, tell them as well?”
Diya winked. “You mean like how you kept it low-key when they wanted to know all about Kimo?”
“I fed them enough to keep them calm. You’re spoon-feeding every detail that isn’t even there. I’m telling you…” I lowered my voice, adding, “I really don’t see things working out with him.”
Diya frowned. Behind her, Kimo was minding his own business in the kitchen.
“I’m being realistic. Just because he’s here, by coincidence due to this wedding, doesn’t mean much. Okay? None of this was planned. It’s all very circumstantial.”
Diya pouted.
Sunny opened the door and we all turned toward him. He was shoving his fingers through damp hair as he paused, skimming the room. He was probably seeing an apologetic woman who was more trouble than this was worth, a grinning fool of a sister wanting to bring up two unnecessarily excitable parents over video call, and a curious bro watching this all go down from the safety of the kitchen.
My sister immediately fawned over Sunny, throwing out ridiculous variations of handsome and questions of family, work, his island experience, and what…a wedding? How romantic! Was he getting ideas? Et cetera into oblivion.
Sunny, for his part, had promptly hurdled out of a stupor and entertained Diya as if he were the one boyfriend above all others. Complete with a smile flashing sharp canines (I mean, damn…), a shallow dimple in the ridge of laugh lines, crinkles at the eyes showing off the genuineness of his responses, and volleyed questions. He casually stood there with arms folded over his chest, his T-shirt tugging at those biceps and pecs that had me cradled against him several hours earlier, chatting away as Diya gave me a not-at-all-subtle impressed nod of approval.
Sunny was welcoming and friendly and unbearably handsome like he was a whole other person.
I could still feel his strong arms carrying me to the car, his instant love for ube shining on his face, the hint of protection of not wanting to leave me alone, the jolt of pleasure ricocheting through my core when he touched the arch of my foot, and the tingles of lost thoughts when he’d mentioned putting tongues to use.
It was going to be difficult looking at the virtual box of his head during work without thinking about any of this, much less during in-person meetings.
“Okay, that’s enough. Let him breathe,” I interrupted.
“What?” Diya asked innocently, but she was far from it.
“I don’t mind,” Sunny insisted, a hand at the low of my back, his Denzel voice scraping my cheek and sending shivers down my spine.
Either I was getting way too caught up in the fantasy of us or his acting skills had skyrocketed.
Sunny, to my surprise, helped me set the table, accidently brushing my arm as he leaned past me with plates and glasses.
“Are you sure that you want to skip dinner with your friends?” I inquired.
“Yeah,” he said. “Would be suspicious if I left you alone to party after today.”
I frowned.
“It’s fine. Really. I need a break from them anyway. I can’t handle their level of partying.”
Diya brought over the sides and Kimo walked over the main dish. We oohed and ahhed over the decadent fried fish on a bed of choy sum with a heaping sprinkle of his homemade furikake seasoning.
As Sunny and I took our seats next to each other, eagerly awaiting mouthwatering food, Kimo explained, “I hit the farmer’s market this morning down in Keauhou and they had the greens you like.”
“Ah, thank you!” I said. “You’re so sweet.”
“No worries, yeah? No white pineapple, but…” He cocked his chin at Diya, who brought over a pitcher of beautiful fuchsia liquid. “They had a few pitaya.”
I squealed, wiggling in my seat as my sister handed me an ice-cold glass of water turned purplish pink by the juice of fresh, pink-fleshed pitaya. Slices of the dragon fruit floated at the top of the pitcher.
“Enough to make dragon fruit piña colada?”
“Bitch,” Diya drawled, “it’s the after-dinner drink by the pool.”
