Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)

“You . . . you can’t?”

He leaned forward until his breath mixed with hers. “No,” he said again, and lightly brushed his lips against hers.

She returned the kiss, and followed his mouth when he began to pull back. Prem’s arms banded around her waist, and for the first time in way too long, she was able to relax in the pleasure of his closeness.

The flicker of the deck light turning on had both of them jumping apart, then scrambling around the side of the shed. Seconds later, the sliding door opened.

“Hello?” Dadi called out. “Is anyone out there?”

Neither of them answered. They stayed completely still, trying to control their breathing. Damn it, why were they breathing so loud?

A few seconds later, Kareena heard her grandmother grumble something. Then the screen door closed and the deck light flickered off.

“Hang on to your glasses, Rina, honey,” Prem whispered, then bent down, and lifted her off her feet, tossing her clear over his shoulder. She bit back her yelp and hung on to his shirt as she flopped like a fish against his back. He stayed in dark shadows along the fence until he reached the street in front of the house. Then, putting her down on her feet, he linked his fingers with hers and tugged her to the end of the block where his car was parked.

She should just go back home, back to her room, and get in her bed where she’d planned on spending the rest of her sleepless night dreaming about fictitious men.

But Prem was here, and he was real.

And that scared her the most.

She climbed into his passenger seat and waited for him to start the car.

“I’m taking you to my place,” he said.

“Okay.”





Interstitial




Indians Abroad News Dear Readers, If your matches are eager to leave any sort of social gathering that you’ve designed for them without food and dressed as if they are in a hurry, then please note that they might be engaging in coitus. It’s important to encourage marriage right away.

Mrs. W. S. Gupta Columnist Avon, NJ





Chapter Twenty-Two

Prem




Prem hadn’t thought too far past the kidnapping. He wanted to see her, wanted to make his intentions clear, but then they’d kissed outside her shed, and he lost his ever-loving mind. He needed more time with her. He needed her in his car, in his bed, in his life.

They sat in silence for most of the drive, the awkwardness almost suffocating as they cruised down the Turnpike.

What were they supposed to talk about that wouldn’t start an argument?

Kareena seemed to be content with leaning back against the passenger seat, the window open to let the summer night air in. Her fingers cut through the wind as she made waves all the way down the turnpike.

Ten minutes from his apartment, her phone went off. She checked the name on the screen and let out a miserable groan. “I have to take this,” she said. “It’s Sonali Aunty.”

“Sure.”

She answered then closed her eyes and rested her head against the palm of her hand. “Hi, Sonali Aunty.”

Prem couldn’t hear what the woman was saying on the other end of the call, but he heard Kareena’s sighs loud and clear.

“Aunty, he was so rude. He told me that I needed to lower my standards. That I was the type of woman who looked like I’d always have to work because a man wouldn’t want me enough to support me. I know! I’m so stupid for getting mad about that, because I always plan on working. But it’s still insulting.”

Prem’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. What the hell? She’d been on a date today? Had she had any good ones since they’d last been together? Had anyone kissed her, held her like he had? No, he had no right to ask those questions, even though jealousy was like a sore. At least the last guy she’d been with sounded like a complete douche.

“No, it’s fine,” Kareena said. “But if you could avoid telling Dadi and the Aunty WhatsApp chat until tomorrow, I’d appreciate it. I escaped to, uh, Bobbi’s house, and Dadi doesn’t know I left. No, Aunty, I am not reading the W. S. Gupta advice column. I don’t think it applies to me. Okay, thanks, Aunty. Love you, too. Bye.”

The sound of that word, love, coming from her mouth grated against his skin, but he ignored it and put it aside. When she hung up, he said, “Fuck the douchebag who said those things to you. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Kareena rubbed her fingertips against her temples. “Yeah, but I’m hoping that someone does.”

“Doubtful,” Prem replied.

“Seriously?”

Prem shrugged. “It’s true. It’s doubtful anyone deserves you. But you’ll inspire someone to be the best person they can for you. I know you inspire me.”

“Prem,” she said with a shaky breath.

They descended into silence again as he maneuvered his car toward his building. The ride was short, and a few minutes later, he was parking in his underground garage.

“What are your plans for when we reach your place?” Kareena asked, breaking the peace between them.

“Are you hungry? I can order some food.”

“Not really,” she said.

“Okay, then we’ll shower first. And then decide what to do.”

“Shower?” Kareen asked.

Prem turned into the underground parking garage entrance and slowed as he descended to his level before parking the car. When he turned off the vehicle, he finally looked at her. “I have to take a shower,” he said. “Because I have war paint on, and I would like for you to join me.”

He could see the interest in her eyes, but all she did was pull the door handle and step out of the car. They walked side by side, less than a foot between them, to the elevator and stepped into the small box. Prem could practically feel the tension crackling like a live current between them as they took the elevator to his floor.

Kareena was with him, and they were finally alone again. Memories of the last time they were at his place cascaded in his mind, mixing with their hours of conversation, their text messages, and the argument that still sat between them like a ghost.

He made sure to give her plenty of space as they stepped out of the elevator and into his hallway. They walked in silence until they reached his condo. He then let her step inside first. He took off his shoes, his jacket, and then watched her as she cut toward his windows to take in the skyline view.

She did that the first time she’d come over, too. There was something about watching her in his place that made him feel comforted. Not because of the space itself, but just knowing that she felt at home with his things.

Prem went to her now, taking slow, easy strides across the room to meet her. He brushed her ponytail over her shoulder and then kissed the back of her neck, enjoying her shudder. When she turned around, he traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb and brushed his lips against hers. Their kiss at the house was intense and frenzied. This one was perfection.

He felt her soften under him, just a little, just enough for her to kiss him back.

“Missed you . . . friend,” Prem whispered against her mouth, hoping to God that didn’t scare her away that he admitted it.

“Missed you, too . . . friend.”



“I think family is important, but sometimes, found family understands us more,” Prem said, clinking his water glass with her drink.

“I get that,” Rina replied. “I have a few close friends that are my ride-or-die.”

“Are we friends yet, Rina?”

She smiled, and her eyes brightened behind her glasses. “I’d like to be.”



Kareena rested her cheek against Prem’s chest and wrapped her arms around his waist in a gesture that had his chest constricting in the oddest of ways. He hugged her back.

“Today really sucked,” she said.

“How can I make it better?”

She pulled back just enough to brush at the smudges on his cheeks. Her giggle was delightful. “You look ridiculous. That’s helping.”

“Bunty’s idea. He said that I had to look the part.”

“Your first problem was that you took advice from Bunty.”

Nisha Sharma's books