It was . . . reverential. There was no other word for it. He was looking at her like she'd stepped out of the pages of his comics, a living, breathing soul mate to Aditya, that wild, curly haired girl come to life.
"Oh . . ." The sound had escaped without Rishi seeming to notice. He leaned down and swept her hair aside with just his fingertips, gently kissing the side of her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. "Lajawab ," he murmured against her skin.
Dimple breathed out, her body turning to liquid gold under the slow fire of his lips. She closed her eyes, letting him guide them both downward onto the bed.
CHAPTER 47
When Dimple let herself into her dorm room around dinnertime, she was still smiling. Her bones felt warm and flexible; her joints were held together with laughing gas. Everything felt brighter, shinier. And she didn't even care if that was a cliché.
She was humming "Dance Pe Chance" to herself when the lump of covers on Celia's bed moved. Dimple jumped. "I didn't know you were napping in here! Sorry. Was I too loud?"
The face that poked out had a goatee. Dimple shrieked.
"Chill, dude," Evan said, rubbing his face grumpily as he sat up. The covers pooled around his waist; he wasn't wearing a shirt. In spite of his six-pack, Dimple couldn't help but think that she much preferred Rishi's solid body to his. It just felt more . . . honest somehow.
"Where's Celia?" she asked, but the door opened and Celia walked in dressed in a lime green bathrobe that barely covered her butt.
"Um." She looked from Dimple to Evan and back again, her cheeks flushing. Water dripped from her curls to the carpet. "I thought you were going to be with Rishi till late."
"Yeah, I came to get my wallet." Dimple picked it up from her dresser and waved it around like proof. She looked at Evan. "So."
To Evan, Celia said, "You should probably go. I'll talk to you later."
"Aight." Aight? Dimple didn't know anyone in real life who said it like that, unironically. He seemed to be pulling on his boxers under the covers, for which Dimple was grateful. He slid out, pulled on his pants and a shirt, and ran a hand through his hair. The silence was deafening. Dimple stood there, fiddling with the zipper on her wallet. Celia stared blankly at Evan. Finally, he nodded at them and left, without saying a word.
They both exhaled at the same time when the door closed. Dimple looked at Celia, trying to keep her expression as nonjudgmental as possible. Celia's mouth was hard, defensive, and her hazel eyes flashed. "What?" she asked.
Dimple held up her hands. "I didn't say anything."
"Yeah, but you're thinking it." Celia walked in and opened her closet door, then let her robe slip off. Dimple looked away. "Just say it."
Dimple sighed and walked over to her bed. She sat, holding her wallet between her knees. "I don't want to say anything judgy, if that's what you're afraid of. I'm just . . . he's made you so unhappy. I don't want you to be hurt."
"I won't be," Celia said, her voice muffled as she pulled some article of clothing over her head. "I'm a big girl; I can handle it." She shut the closet door and leaned against it, dressed in skinny jeans and a dolman sleeved indigo blue top that showed her belly button. "Which brings me to another thing-I decided I'm going to do the dance thing. With Isabelle and the rest of them."
She looked at Dimple from under her eyelashes, like she was waiting for an outburst. Which Dimple was determined not to give her. "Right," she said carefully. "With the . . . with the dancing in bikinis and stuff?"
Celia rolled her eyes and walked to the dresser, where she opened up various pots of makeup and began putting them on. "Yeah. It's really not a big deal, okay?"
Dimple chewed the inside of her lip, wondering if she should just let it go. Probably. But that had never stopped her before. "It seemed like a big deal when he first told you about it that day in class. Remember? You left the lecture hall crying."
"Yeah, but I was just overreacting. Look, you have a conflict of interest in this thing."
Dimple stared at the back of her head, frowning. "What do you mean?"
Celia looked at her in the mirror as she pressed on her eyelashes using what must be a curler, but looked more like a medieval torture device. "You obviously want me to get together with Ashish."
"I don't! I mean, that's not why I . . . I admit I think Ashish and you make a better couple than you and Evan." She tried to say his name without gagging and mostly succeeded. "But that's not why I'm saying this. You genuinely seemed upset-which you had every right to be. This isn't you, Celia. I know you want to fit in with the cool kids like you couldn't in high school and everything-"