He was taking this much more seriously than she’d expected him to. Madhuri wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake until he snapped into his senses, until he realized that their relationship wasn’t that important and never would be.
However, and she would never admit this out loud, Arjun’s knowledge of their shared culture made her feel understood. She tried to ignore the way his actions sent a warm flutter through her chest like she was being seen for the first time.
Her mother’s lips slowly grew into a megawatt smile as she overcame her surprise. She placed a gentle hand over his head. “You have our blessing, as always. No matter what happens between you and Madhuri, we’ll be in your corner.”
Her father wrapped his arm around her mother, his eyes piercing Arjun’s like a knife. “But you being a part of our family doesn’t mean you can hurt Madhuri. There’ll be consequences for your actions.”
“To be quite frank, I think Madhuri is more likely to break my heart than the other way around.” Arjun looked over his shoulder, sending her a wink that seemed to say that their secret was completely safe with him. It was like he knew he was at her mercy, and he still didn’t care.
Josie watched their exchange with a raised eyebrow and Madhuri soon felt the burning gaze of her best friend drilling into the side of her head. There was no doubt that Josie would have a lot of questions, especially after Madhuri had squashed the idea of her and Arjun’s romantic prospects from her brain years ago, but she’d give her the explanation she deserved soon.
Madhuri turned her vision to Arjun laughing with her parents, their teeth sparkling like the brightest stars, and all of a sudden, Madhuri worried if Arjun was right. It pained her to think she was taking advantage of Arjun’s kindness, using his loyalty as a sacrificial pawn in her war against fate and family.
She wasn’t sure what she’d do if she broke his heart and lost her best friend all at once.
CHAPTER FIVE
Arjun
Arjun never celebrated his lacrosse games.
Even when he’d won State Championships and was named MVP of the season, Arjun had chosen to end the night alone. It wasn’t like he didn’t get invited places. There was always the option of sharing celebratory gulab jamun with Madhuri and her family, or hitting up a party with Liam, his best friend, and the rest of his teammates. Still, Arjun had spent most of his life feeling like a burden, and it didn’t come naturally to him to accept those invites, as genuine as they might be. He’d much rather choose himself, the only human being he knew he could always depend on.
And so, the cheering crowds of the student section were replaced by the hum of an empty refrigerator. The lacrosse field that had quickly become his second home gave way to his living room, which had just about frozen over since he left for school that morning. He’d forgotten to turn off the air conditioner again.
Arjun unlocked the front door to his house with a years-old rusting key.
“I’m home,” he whispered under his breath to no one, and shrugged his coat onto the staircase. His mother would’ve chastised him for his laziness when the coatrack was standing right there. But weeks had passed since they’d last spoken in person—another business trip to another foreign country, as usual.
He decided that what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Arjun settled onto the leather couch in front of the television, pulled a blanket over himself that smelled ever so slightly like dust, and rested his head on his mother’s favorite pillow, hand-quilted and gifted by his great-grandmother. He made sure not to lean on his injured side, making a mental note to change his bandages before he dozed off. If he didn’t do it himself, he’d have no choice but to ask Auntie Iyer for help, and that was the last thing he wanted now that he was Madhuri’s boyfriend.
Overall, there was only one difference to his bedtime routine. Rather than replaying memories from his game as he coaxed himself to sleep, Arjun thought about the warmth of Madhuri’s smile when she’d asked him to partake in her experiment. He wished that it would be enough to keep him company on yet another lonely night—which was uncharacteristically interrupted by the ring of his doorbell. Not once, not twice, but over and over again like the most torturous alarm clock known to man.
Arjun didn’t need to guess who was responsible for the disturbance. Ever since they were kids, Madhuri found a way to announce her presence without uttering a single word, and it seemed that the doorbell was her choice tonight.
Her forthrightness would be the death of him, but honestly, he didn’t think there was any better way to die.
“Coming!” Arjun shouted as he folded his blanket back into a neat square and hung it over the couch as if it had come straight out of a catalog. On his way to the front door, he turned on the lights in the kitchen and the hallway, hoping that it gave his house a bare-minimum semblance of liveliness.
“Could you possibly take any longer? It’s freezing out here.”
Arjun could envision the scowl on Madhuri’s face when she spoke, and it took all of his self-restraint not to laugh at the image his brain had concocted of her—hands on her hips, lips downturned, and eyes blazing.
“Well, now I’m going to take even longer.” He turned the front doorknob at a snail’s pace, and it creaked so loudly that he was positive she could hear it from the other side. “Try not to catch hypothermia in the meantime.”
“If you don’t open this door right now, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
A beat of silence passed between them before Madhuri muttered, “I don’t think you want to know what I’m capable of.”
“Try me.” He swung open the door with a flourish and flashed her a boyish grin. As soon as he saw Madhuri, though, with her hair laid flat against her back from the sudden downpour of rain, whatever charisma Arjun thought he had vanished into thin air.
She wore a bright yellow churidar, which made sense because it was a Friday night and that was when Madhuri and her family went to the Malibu Temple, a tradition that was never broken, even if it meant they could only attend after his game ended. A glimmering necklace adorned her collarbone, matching in color to the bindi—also known as a pottu, if Arjun was remembering the bit of Tamil Madhuri had taught him correctly—placed between her threaded eyebrows. Looking at her now, radiant even in the darkest of skies, Arjun somehow forgot to breathe.
Madhuri sent him a glare and shoved a small cardboard box into his hands, walking into his house without an ounce of hesitation. She found the blanket he’d been using earlier and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Cat got your tongue? Or are you feeling guilty for leaving me out in the rain for the sake of your own amusement?”
Arjun let out a strained cough as he tried to find his regular breathing pattern again. “Me? Guilty? Never.” He leaned against the door with his ankles crossed, trying to appear as effortlessly cool and collected as Madhuri. “What’s with the box?”