I shoot Nandini a text asking her to bring it tomorrow, and she immediately replies, did ace say something rude? I’ll throw hands in ur honor!!!
I smile. nothing I wouldn’t say myself!! dw
Ace reappears holding a book. I squint, trying to make out the title.
It’s a book about different types of monkeys...
Monkeys?
Maybe the Clydes made a pact to confuse me with their reading choices.
Unable to help myself, I write it down. A boy who looks like moonlight and reads strange books about monkeys. There’s a poem hidden somewhere in that sentence.
“Did you know some monkeys don’t have tails?” Ace asks as if he can feel my gaze on him. My own lips start to betray me and turn up in amusement. “How weird is that? It can’t be a monkey without a tail, right?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stop whatever the hell it is my lips are trying to do. “Apparently it can.”
Ace looks up and grins. I shift uncomfortably, because my stomach feels like it’s twisting into knots. He has dimples? Jesus Christ. Ya Allah. All of the above.
Either way, this is bad. I want no part of it. If I look at his face for another minute, I might give in to Nandini and Cora’s delusions, and then where would we be?
“You get it, Ahmed,” Ace says, clearly pleased. He closes the book about monkeys—I’m still confused—and gives me his full attention. I can still see a hint of a dimple in his left cheek, and it makes me want to scream.
And yet, even though this entire conversation is ridiculous, the longer it goes on, the better I feel. The cloud that’s been hanging over my head all day begins to evaporate.
“I think you’re distracting me to keep from studying,” I say after a moment. “Let’s get to work, Ace.”
“Boring,” Ace mutters, but not a second later, he sits down across from me. When he grins this time, I actually feel normal. Maybe I can build an immunity to his smile. There’s hope for me yet.
I get through about twenty minutes of the session I outlined before he interrupts. “Let’s go.”
“What?” I look down at my notes, trying to figure out his train of thought. “Go where?”
“Pietra’s Sweet Tooth,” he says, reaching for the leather jacket he hung on the back of his chair. He gestures for me to stand.
I give him a dubious look. “Why would we go there again? We have to study, Ace.”
“I’m more productive there,” he says.
On one hand, it’s kind of true. On another hand, it wastes precious time. On a third hand I don’t even have, the library is my favorite place to be. Pietra’s Sweet Tooth is lovely, but this place feels like a warm hug.
“We’re studying for school. We should study in school.”
“Don’t be a bore, Ahmed,” Ace says, but his voice is teasing. I’m thrown by the change. Has he been switched out for a look-alike? He’s so different from the person I keep expecting him to be. “A little ice cream never killed anybody.”
“A lot of people die from high blood sugar, actually.”
Ace shakes his head. “Do you have an answer for everything?”
I grin widely, unable to help myself. “It’s because I read. You should try it sometime.”
Almost immediately, my muscles tense. I’m not supposed to say things like that to him.
But...he doesn’t look like he minds, so maybe it’s okay.
Slowly, I relax.
“Come on, Ahmed. I’ll pay again,” Ace says, offering me his hand.
I blink down at it once, twice, thrice.
Even with my mother across the world, I can almost physically see her standing over Ace’s shoulder with a sharp look in her eye. According to her, it’s inappropriate to interact with boys aside from neutral pleasantries.
I don’t really understand it, but her warnings are still ingrained in me like decaying roots.
I push his hand back, pressing his fingers down gently until they curl into his palm. “We really have to study.”
He sighs and leans back in his seat. “Fine.”
Our lesson goes completely downhill after that. His gaze keeps drifting away, as if he’s searching the aisles for something. His entire body is rigid for reasons I can’t begin to fathom.
Ten minutes later, I give up. I’m a people pleaser, and this situation clearly isn’t working for either of us. “Okay. You’re not paying attention. Let’s just go.”
Ace shifts his gaze from a bookshelf past my shoulder with a guilty expression on his face. Then my words seem to penetrate his thick skull. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” I roll my eyes. “But from now on we have to spend thirty minutes in the library and thirty minutes there. You can’t slack off during the library time. Okay?”
I’m hoping he’ll agree to the compromise, because I don’t think there’s any other mutually beneficial solution. Thankfully, Ace nods.
Five minutes later, he opens the door to the shop for me and I slip inside, this time inspecting the different doughnut flavors.
The same girl is behind the register, and she looks surprised when she notices me. I didn’t realize yesterday but her name tag says Pietra. She looks only a year or two older than me, though, which doesn’t make sense.
Pietra gestures to her name tag when she sees me looking. “My dad owns the shop. He named it after me.”
“That’s sweet,” I say honestly, trying not to wonder if my parents would do something like that for me. I hope so, but I have no idea. “Can I get a jelly-filled doughnut please?”
“And I’ll have my usual,” Ace says over my head.
“If you’re going to get me a drink, do you mind getting me coffee?” I ask him before I can lose the nerve. “Milk with three spoons of sugar? I can pay you back if you want.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Ace nods toward the booths. “I’ll bring it when it’s ready.”
We sit at the same booth again and I take some time to admire it in more detail. It’s bubblegum pink with soft cushioned seats. The table is polished rosewood with an arrangement of condiments in animal-themed bottles. I push the frilly sky-blue throw pillows to the side to make room for my backpack.
I’m admiring a painting hung beside me, of sunflowers on a rainy day, when Ace returns.
“Do you paint?” he asks, sliding me my doughnut and coffee.
“I don’t have a single artistic bone in my body,” I say, looking away from the painting. “That doesn’t matter. Let’s study.”
“Ahmed, you are the most difficult person I’ve ever met,” Ace says under his breath.
I gape at him. No one has ever described me as difficult before. Shy, maybe. Quiet, often. A know-it-all, sometimes. Difficult? No. “Excuse me?”
“All you care about is studying,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”
I want to flail my arms in disbelief, but I think that might be counterproductive. I settle for saying, “I’m your tutor, Ace. Of course I’m going to focus on studying.”
Ace makes a face, but the expression disappears before I can scrutinize it. “Okay. Back to Hawthorne. I’m listening.”
I frown. I don’t want this experience to be miserable for him, but I also don’t think us talking about other things is going to be conducive to his studying. “Right. So Hawthorne...”
Before I know it, it’s half past five again. It’s definitely way past the half hour we were supposed to spend in Pietra’s Sweet Tooth, but it’s easy to lose myself in literature. I have no idea what Ace’s excuse is for not noticing, especially since he seems to pay only half attention to the books in front of us.
I don’t have a heart attack upon noticing the time today, but my anxiety still sets in, more from habit than anything else. I start jiggling my leg up and down and clicking my pen incessa
ntly. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.
I stop when Ace’s hand closes over mine. It doesn’t really help, because it causes me to spasm and he jerks back, an apology written across his face. “Sorry. I called your name like five times, but you weren’t responding. Are you okay?”
“Great!” I say and wince. I don’t sound great. Ace can probably tell, too. “Sorry. I’m just antsy. Anyway, I think we’re finished for today.”
Ace looks me over, his lips pressed together and his eyes focused on my leg, still jiggling up and down. “Can I help?”
“No. No. Uh, I should probably head home. You probably should too, right? I saw your brother Xander earlier in the library, checking out an Italian cookbook. Maybe he’s cooking dinner for your family tonight. Or maybe it’s for school, I have no idea. Does he take AP Italian? I heard rumors during freshmen orientation that the AP class cooks Italian cuisine. That’s why I took Italian over Spanish in the first place. We haven’t cooked yet, but—” I abruptly cut myself off, blood rushing to my cheeks. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
Ace is watching me in bemusement. “You saw Xander doing what?”
“Nothing,” I say, quickly packing up my things. My mouth is far too dry. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
Ace is still staring at me, lips parted on an unasked question.
“Right?” I ask again, almost insistently. I know I’m a nervous wreck, but hopefully he doesn’t take that as a reason to end our tutoring arrangement.
After a moment, Ace leans an elbow on the table and sets his chin in his hand, looking up at me through dark lashes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ahmed.”
I slump in relief. “Yeah, see you then.”
As I walk away, I can feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of my head. I turn and meet Ace’s eyes one last time, and his lingering stare feels like a warning.
10
T-MINUS 24 DAYS
“I’m a horrible tutor,” I say, slamming my locker with an air of finality and revealing Cora and Nandini on the other side. “Why did I agree to this when I’m a mess of a human being who can barely keep my head on straight? I doubt he’s learned a single thing.”
“Is that really your fault?” Nandini asks, scratching her neck. “It sounds like he’s being difficult.”
“Don’t even use the word difficult,” I hiss before pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m clearly destined to make a fool of myself, and it doesn’t help that he’s barely trying to learn. I don’t even know why he asked to be tutored.” I drag my fingers down my face, trying not to groan. “As much as I hate my parents’ rules, maybe they were onto something with the boy one.”
Cora laughs into her elbow, attempting to disguise it into a cough. “Karina, sweetie...no. Boys are not the problem here.”
My shoulders slump. “You would say that. At least you have girls to choose from, too! Nandini and I are stuck with these useless, uncommunicative, and unproductive disasters.”
Nandini tuts sympathetically. “Have you tried marriage counseling?”
I reach out to smack her upside the head, but she ducks out of the way.
“It literally keeps me up at night,” I continue. They’re the only people I would ever feel comfortable confiding this in. “After I’ve finished all my homework, I’m like, ‘How can I help Ace study?’ and my brain keeps coming up blank. I just feel so bad. Miss Cannon asked me to do one thing, and I can’t even do that.”
The thought of letting my favorite teacher down is one of my worst nightmares. I feel like I’m constantly disappointing all the grownups in my life.
“Hey,” Cora says, frowning. “Don’t feel bad. You’re doing your best.”
“And if nothing else, at least it distracts you from worrying about college,” Nandini says.
“Oh God, don’t remind me.” I can’t even open the Common App without wanting to jump out my window.
“No, but seriously,” Cora says, reaching forward and tugging one of my dark waves. “Maybe Nandini is right and this is good. You can focus on this instead of worrying about your parents. A win for everyone!”
“It’s not that easy.”
Nandini joins Cora in frowning. “Karina, you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.”
They both look skeptical at my reply. I don’t blame them.
“Karina—”
“Let’s just go to class,” I say, ushering them toward the main staircase. “I’ll see you guys in English.”
“We’re not finished with this conversation,” Nandini says. “Right, Cora?”
Cora nods. “Right.”
I sigh. “I hate when you two team up against me.”
“We do it out of love,” Cora says, reaching forward to flick my nose. “See you later, alligator.”
My mouth quirks into half a smile. “In a while, crocodile.”
We both expectantly look at Nandini and she shakes her head. “Screw you guys. I don’t have a response that rhymes.”
I laugh and reach forward to hug them both around the neck. Their arms wrap around me in return, and we stand like that until the bell rings, spurring us into action.
Maybe my friends are the worst, but they’re also the best.
* * *
As usual, I’m the first to arrive to English. I take my seat in the back corner and pull out my notebook.
I’m writing down the date when someone drops into the seat beside me.
“Don’t start with the marriage counselor thing again,” I say without looking up.
“You wound me. Does our love mean so little to you?”
My head snaps up and I see Ace sitting next to me, spinning a wrapped lollipop between his fingers. I open and close my mouth, unsure what to say, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “Cat got your tongue, Ahmed?”
“Why are you sitting here?” I ask, glancing around for my friends. Nandini walks through the doorway and stops in her tracks, seeing Ace next to me.
She gives me an incredulous look and mouths, What’s going on?
I hope my flustered expression lets her know I have absolutely no clue. There’s no reason for Ace Clyde to be sitting next to me outside of our tutoring sessions. Not a single reason.
Cora walks in and falters at Nandini’s side. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head and she shakes Nandini’s arm. “Nandini,” she says, loud enough that I can hear it from where I am, which means Ace can, too.
I wince and look back at Ace, who’s sucking on his lollipop now. When he notices me looking, he produces another lollipop from his leather jacket and holds it out in offering.
“No thanks,” I say. “I prefer Sour Patch Kids.”
“Your loss,” Ace says before leaning back in his seat, slouching into his usual lazy posture. He doesn’t even have a notebook on the desk. No wonder he’s failing.
“Do you really not have even a single piece of loose-leaf paper?”
“Forgot my bag.”
“As in...your book bag? You forgot your book bag?”
He shrugs and smirks in a way that’s completely infuriating.
I sigh and face forward. Maybe my good work ethic can rub off on him through proximity. Osmosis and all that. Inshallah.
Miss Cannon finishes writing our opening activity on the board and turns around, but she falters at the sight of me and Ace in the back row together.
And then she grins. Like, beams. I’ve never seen her that happy in my life.
“Would you look at that?” Ace whispers.
Without thinking, I smack his arm. As soon as I realize what I did, I open my mouth in apology, horrified, but he’s smiling, too. His dimples are on display, and he’s never looked more annoying or beautiful.
mouths are strange and peculiar
>
they can be happy, they can be sad
a curve of a lip here, a downturn there
My classmates are staring at us in disbelief. Well, they’re staring at him, and I’m more of an afterthought. I’m pretty sure Ace has never smiled in public before, so this is an anomaly for everyone.
It doesn’t help that the person he’s choosing to smile at is me.
I have no idea what’s happening, but I do know I want to sink into the ground.
“Please stop looking at me,” I whisper to him and untie my hair, trying to curtain my face from view. My heart is beating too fast, but at least I know I haven’t done anything wrong, which helps significantly. Still, I don’t like being looked at like I’m a spectacle.
“Juliet would never say that to Romeo,” he says, quiet enough that I doubt anyone else can hear. “I’m appalled, Ahmed.”
“Don’t you start,” I say, nearly hissing. “Focus on the lesson.”
“Whatever makes you happy.”
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.
I take out a piece of paper and try implementing my latest anxiety coping strategy. Clear, coherent thoughts written out onto a page.
Everyone in class is looking at me. Everyone in class is looking at me. Everyone in class is looking at...
Ace.
People are looking at me, because Ace is sitting next to me. Is looking at me a bad thing? Are they judging me? It’s not like I did anything, right...?
No. I definitely didn’t. Ace is the one who sat next to me and smiled. They’re probably curious about how I tie into this (and frankly, so am I), but they’re not judging *me*.
Ace is the focal point of this situation. I might be a part of the frame, but I’m just a blur. And yet everyone is. still. staring. at. me.
I sigh and stop writing. That didn’t help as much as I hoped it would.
English class has never gone by so excruciatingly slowly.
Counting Down with You Page 6