“Dinner sounds great!” Celia said. “What about Italian?” She listened for a minute. “No, that’s fine, we don’t have to do Italian. . . . What were you guys thinking?” Celia made a face at Isabelle’s response. “Elm? No, I’m just not crazy about their food. . . .” After a pause, she said in a hurry, “No, no, that’s totally fine! I think I was just having an off day when I went there last time. I’m sure I’ll find something good tonight.” Celia listened some more and then laughed, the sound pressured and fake. “Okay, see you then. Bye!” She hung up and looked at Dimple, forcing a smile. “Look, I’m having dinner with them. Why don’t you come? Get to know them.” Seeing Dimple’s expression, she added, “Bring Rishi, too. Then at least there’ll be two people you know there.”
Dimple sighed. On one hand she had no desire to see those people again outside of class. On the other hand Celia would be there, and Rishi, if he wanted to come. Maybe she could put this whole thing to bed and Evan and Hari wouldn’t bother her again if they knew she was with Celia. They could all just forget about the stupid comment they’d made and move on, no awkwardness necessary. Plus, she didn’t want Celia to think she was judging her new friends without even giving them a chance. That’d make for an awkward six weeks living together.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Where are we going?”
“This place called Elm on Piazza Ave, about a ten-minute walk from here.” She itched her ear, and in a not completely believable way, added, “Their mac and cheese is supposed to be killer?”
“All right, I’ll be there. Do you want to walk together?”
Celia pulled a face and held up her phone. “Wish I could, babe. I have to run home really quick though. Apparently my grandma decided on a three-day surprise visit, and she flips if she doesn’t get to see me.” Celia stood and slung her bag onto her shoulder. She’d switched out her multicolored, patchwork-adorned backpack for a more demure taupe leather handbag. The interlocking Cs glinted in the overhead lights. “But I’ll see you there at seven, okay?”
“Sounds good.” As the door thundered shut behind Celia, Dimple sat back and looked up at the ceiling. It was one stupid dinner, and then she’d be home free. No big deal. She reached over and grabbed her phone out of her bag. Max had made all the partners exchange phone numbers, so she had Rishi’s in her contacts already. For some reason, her palms were slightly sweaty as she texted.
Hey, it’s Dimple. Want to come to dinner with Celia’s new friends tonight instead of doing the pizza place? 7 pm.
Wait, the Aberzombies?
Dimple snorted, only slightly surprised that Rishi’s nickname nailed exactly what she felt about that group. Yeah, unfortunately. I promised to give them a chance, though. It’s at Elm, on Piazza.
Sure, I’ll be there. Pick you up or meet there?
Dimple paused, heart stuttering a bit. Was this a weighted question? If she said he should pick her up, would that give him the wrong idea? But if she didn’t, would that sound like she didn’t want to spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary? Dimple quietly thunked her forehead on the screen a few times and then typed, Pick me up at 6:50.
Rishi’s response was immediate. See ya then.
? ? ?
Promptly at 6:49, there was a knock on Dimple’s dorm room door. She opened it to find Rishi on the other side, dressed in a neatly pressed burgundy button-down (the color actually looked really good on him—brought out the red in his lips, not that she was looking looking) and khakis. He looked very much like Boy on a First Date. At least he hadn’t brought a flower.
Rishi had considered bringing a long-stemmed flower—he knew this wasn’t a date, so maybe a carnation rather than a rose?—but had nixed it at the last moment. Seeing Dimple’s face now, taking in his business casual attire, he was kind of glad.
? ? ?
She’d say this for him: He had no guile. There were no mind games, no trying to be cool or appearing to be something else. Rishi was unabashedly himself. She felt a tug of endearment and coughed to cover it up. “Oh, er, hi. I feel underdressed.”
“You look fantastic.” He smiled, and she could tell he really meant it. “Ready?”
? ? ?
Outside, the sun had streaked the fog a molten pink and gold. Karl wafted lazily, toying with their hair and whispering wetly in their ears. Dusk pulled their shadows long, and a slight breeze ruffled the leaves on the eucalyptus trees they passed. Dimple pulled an errant, damp curl off her face. “So do you want to talk really quickly about the idea I had for Insomnia Con? Since we’re not going to hash it out over pizza?”
Rishi tucked his hands into his pockets. “Sure.”
Dimple’s pulse quickened. She’d been thinking about this for so long, and now it was finally here. The chance to make this into a reality. “So the first thing to understand is that Papa’s a diabetic. He really struggles to take his medication and stay on the straight and narrow with his diet. He’s always saying how much of a pain in the butt it is to remember each little thing that comes with being a diabetic. There’s the shot, the medication, the special diet, the exercise. . . . That got me thinking, what if there was a way to make it easier and more fun for sick people to stick to their routines? What if there was an app that turned it into a sort of game with a reward system?”
“Interesting. I just recently read an article about the psychology of gaming. How even the simplest or most repetitive of games can be made addictive if the person is rewarded enough or something?”
Dimple nodded, excited that he’d heard of it. “Yeah, it’s called a compulsion loop. When we repeat a certain behavior and get rewarded for it, we want to keep repeating that behavior. So if that behavior is inputting that they took their medication or stuck to their diet—something that’ll be visually represented and give them a reward—they’ll want to keep repeating it. But it has to be simple enough that even older people like Papa can do it easily from their phones.”
Rishi looked at her, impressed. “That is really cool. I love this idea already.”
Dimple flushed and ducked her head. “Thanks. I hope the judges do too.”
“We’ll just have to work extra hard so they do.”
Dimple smiled at Rishi, at his open enthusiasm. Softly, she said, “By the way, thanks for coming to this thing.”
“No problem.” A pause. “So . . . why are we going, again?”
She noticed the “we” in place of the “you,” and felt a warmth in her belly. Rishi was a naturally good friend, she could tell, the kind of guy who thought your every fight was his as well. “Mainly because it’s important to Celia, and I think this month and a half will be a whole lot less awkward if I make an effort to like her friends. I’m sure they’ll be coming over to our dorm room and stuff.” Dimple thought of the way Celia turned pink when she talked of Evan. “Besides, if I can just spend some time with them, maybe—” She broke off, not able to believe she’d actually been about to tell Rishi her thought process.
“Maybe they won’t bother you again,” he finished mildly. “Makes sense.”
They walked along, both looking straight ahead until they got to the light. Dimple turned to look at him while they waited for a WALK sign. “Does it really? Make sense to you, I mean?”
“Sure.” Rishi’s eyes were clear and genuine.
Dimple smiled a half smile. “No don’t appease the bullies sentiment?”