“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.
Twenty-four Sunny
“Now that you’ve succeeded in getting so much personal, and embarrassing, intel on me, it’s your turn. Why aren’t you dating anyone?” I asked Bane, who was lounging on a patio chair, basking in the last remnants of sunset glow.
“Rude. You never ask a woman that.”
After a moment of her signature simmering, she replied in an unexpectedly lively tone, “Okay! So let me preface this by saying I’m happy where I’m at, okay?”
