The moment stretched out, soft and gauzy tangling with dark and heavy. Dimple began to notice other things; how close her bare arm was to his. The heat his body was putting out. The way he smelled—like sunshine and something woodsy and boy.
Rishi rubbed the back of his neck and somehow shifted subtly forward. The only reason she really noticed was that his arm was now rubbing against hers. Something inside her went melty and warm. His eyes were all she could see as he leaned forward. Dimple found her lips parting, involuntarily, even as she thought, This is distinctly not non-date behavior.
The SUV behind them honked. The light had turned green. Rishi started and turned away, the moment gone.
CHAPTER 32
Rishi cleared his throat as they sped down the road. Dimple adjusted her dress awkwardly, wondering if he was just as disappointed as she was. That was twice that a kissable moment had been thwarted.
A moment later Rishi signaled left and pulled up to the curb. Hopping out of his seat, he ran over to open her door, ever chivalrous. Neither of them said anything. There was a little charge of electricity in the air, that feeling of pressure right before a storm. Dimple’s pulse raced. Did Rishi feel the same? His face was impassive; she couldn’t say.
Silently, they crossed the little street together, heading toward a bank of narrow storefronts—mostly clothing and record stores—on the other side. Rishi led her toward a greenish-blue storefront. The sign outside read TWO SISTERS BAR AND BOOKS.
“Bar and books?” Dimple pushed her glasses up on her nose, feeling fingers of curiosity tap their way along her skin. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Rishi twinkled at her. “You’ll see.”
? ? ?
The place was just as amazing as when Rishi had come here earlier in the week to scope it out. The vintage, Victorian-style red-and-tan wallpaper, the smell of old book glue, the clink of glasses and hum of quiet conversations and occasional laughter . . . it was just quirky and different enough to be worthy of Dimple. It was exactly what he’d wanted for their first non-date. Now that it was dusk outside, the store had turned on the hanging lights, and thanks to them and the pink wallpaper, everything was cast with a pink-gold glow.
Dimple was staring at the bar and the bookshelves, openmouthed. Rishi suppressed a self-satisfied chuckle. Oh, yes. Dimple’s mind could be considered 100 percent blown. Well done, Patel. “So is this a bar? A restaurant? With books inside it?”
Rishi grinned. “Yeah. The owners get these really cool editions from all over the world. So you can just sip, eat, and read, I guess.”
Dimple raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You know we’re not old enough to drink, right?”
“They can make everything virgin,” Rishi said. “I asked.”
Dimple got a funny look on her face as her smile faded. “You asked? When?”
“A few days ago, when I came in here to check it out.”
There was something in Dimple’s eyes he couldn’t read. She looked away, fiddling with the strap of her bag, and Rishi wondered if he’d said something wrong. When she didn’t say anything, he continued, less surely. “So you can look around at the books, pick something up if you like. But ah, I also . . .” He paused, wondering if he should actually tell her. Her face, her expression . . . something was off. Did she think he was overplanning it? Putting too much thought into it? Was this all too much for her?
Dimple looked back at him, questioning. “You also what?”
Rishi felt the beginnings of panic. Crap. Here came the waiter, Willie, Rishi had made the arrangement with, smiling his toothy smile. Rishi tried to tell him with his eyes—since Dimple was still looking at him—that they needed to abort the plan. Abort. The. Plan. But Willie just smiled wider and added in a little wave. Double crap.
“Hello, folks!” Willie said, and Dimple spun around to face him. “You must be the lovely Dimple I’ve heard so much about,” he said, taking her hand and pumping it enthusiastically. Dimple’s eyes widened as she looked from Willie to Rishi. It was not happiness Rishi saw there.
Oh, no, no, no. Rishi glanced longingly out into the street. If it didn’t mean abandoning Dimple, he might consider running to the car, jumping in, and taking it all the way home to Atherton.
The oblivious, obnoxiously cheerful Willie continued to talk. Why hadn’t Rishi noticed before how effervescent the dude was? “Why don’t you guys follow me this way? We have a table set up for you already.” He beamed not so subtly at Rishi, totally not getting the vibe that he was trying to put off.
Dimple and Rishi followed him to the back, where it was quieter and emptier. He gestured to their table, already adorned with the few books Rishi had specifically ordered and requested to be placed there.
“Thanks,” Rishi mumbled, and pressed a tip into Willie’s palm.
Finally looking slightly bewildered at the lack of enthusiasm, Willie had the good sense to take the tip and leave quietly.
They took their seats in the heavy dark wood chairs, Rishi barely daring to look at Dimple. She looked down at the books, realization slowly seeping into her expression. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and picked up one of the small, clothbound editions. “A Wrinkle in Time,” she said softly.
“Yeah, it’s, um, a 2009 special edition. Eight years ago, you know, because—”
She met his eye. “That’s the year we met at the wedding.”
Rishi felt a little surge of relief. At least she got it. But he didn’t know, looking at her, whether she was freaked. Or flattered. Or just confused. Dimple touched the two other books on the table.
“Those are just some of my favorite graphic novels,” Rishi explained. Both of them had first love as their theme, though Rishi didn’t think he’d tell her that right now. “I thought you’d, uh, enjoy them. Maybe. If you wanted to read them.” He rubbed the back of his neck. This was excruciating. Why the heck had he done all this? How had he thought this would be a good idea? She’d gone out of her way to make sure he understood that this was a non-date. Which meant Rishi was now officially a member of Camp Trying Too Hard.
Uggghhhh.
“Are you okay?”
He jumped a little and looked at her. “What? Why?”
“Why’d you just groan like that?”
Crap. He’d done that out loud? “Ah . . . no reason.” Rishi exhaled. “Look, if this is too much, if you hate it, we can go somewhere else.”
But Dimple put a hand on his hand. When he looked up at her, hope blooming painfully in his chest, she was smiling at him, soft and sure. “I definitely don’t hate it. Thanks.”
Rishi exhaled. “You’re welcome.” At least Dimple didn’t hate it. It still didn’t mean he could check out of Camp Trying Too Hard yet, but she didn’t hate it. So there was that.
CHAPTER 33