“Sorry, woke up a sweaty mess; just trying to cool down.”
“Oh thank God. I thought maybe you were having a fever dream.”
“What, did you think I was gonna jump out?” I asked, laughing at the absurdity of that possibility.
“Maybe. I mean, I don’t know. It’s late,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. She turned, looking at my empty bed, and now it was her turn to laugh as she looked at the man-shaped shadow of sweat on my sheets. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much sweat in my life.”
“What can I say? I’m a man among men.”
“Do you have a spare set of sheets? You can’t sleep in that.”
“Good point. Yeah, in the hall closet. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t be silly. Change your clothes. I’ll use the bathroom and I’ll grab the sheets on my way back.”
“Thanks,” I said, pulling my wet T-shirt away from my skin. “I could use a new shirt.”
Lyra smiled and left the room. I walked to my dresser and pulled out a new T-shirt and pair of boxers, tossing my drenched clothes into the hamper. Lyra returned just as I was stripping the sheets from the bed.
“You probably won’t need all these blankets anymore, huh?”
“Yeah, even with the cold air pouring in, I still feel like I can’t cool down.”
“That’s good. Your body was a little oven while you slept. You should feel so much better tomorrow.”
“I already do,” I said, realizing that my congestion wasn’t nearly as bad as it was earlier that evening and my body didn’t ache nearly as much. My body was fighting the bug, and I was recovering.
Minutes later, the bed was made, but I realized I had no desire to go back to sleep. “Thanks for helping me with this. Sorry I woke you.”
“Nah, I was already up. I was reading.”
“Jane Austen.”
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you must know, I was reading Wuthering Heights.”
“Oh, that’s the one with the dude named Heathcliff, right? I think I read that in high school.”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“That’s a dark book… What would Jane think of you reading something so scandalous?” I gasped, placing my fingers between my teeth and pretending to bite down on them.
“Sometimes I don’t think you should be allowed to speak,” she said, glaring at me. As much as I loved Lyra’s smile, part of me preferred her glare, her fire, her sizzle. “But on the bright side, you’re clearly feeling better.”
“Indeed I am. Want some coffee?”
“Yeah, I saw you have a shop downstairs.”
“Part of the reason I chose this place.”
“I’ll grab us some.”
“Let me get dressed, I’ll come with you.”
“No, crazy man. You still need to rest.”
“Geez, you’re strict. Really, I’m feeling a lot better today. Your loving care healed me,” I said dramatically, batting my eyelashes.
“You’re such a pain in my ass.”
“You love it,” I teased.
Her cheeks grew pink. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut up and take a hot shower. I’ll be back in a bit.”
There’s nothing quite like a hot shower when you’re not feeling well. It almost feels like this strange rebirth, like you’re washing away the sickness and getting back to being you. That was exactly how I felt after spending ten minutes under the hot steam before changing into comfy flannel pants and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. When I finally emerged from my bedroom, I was happy to see Lyra dancing around my kitchen.
Literally.
With her phone perched on my counter, she was shaking her hips and singing to herself as she held a spatula in her hand, staring down at the pan on the stove.
“Country music, huh?”
Startled, she jumped just a bit at my voice. “Keith Urban. He just makes me happy…and his songs remind me of college. I’m making you some eggs and toast; hope that sounds good.”
“Hell yeah. After having your khichdi, I can’t wait to try your eggs.” I plopped myself on a barstool and placed my elbows on the breakfast bar. “Go back to dancing. I’m sorry I interrupted.”
She waved me away with the spatula. “I dance when I cook.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” I said with a wink as she placed my coffee cup on the placemat in front of me. “I’m just enjoying the view.”
“Ugh, I’m a mess,” she said. “My hair’s like a freaking nest, and I have zero makeup on.”
“You don’t need that shit anyway,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Thanks,” she said before scooping some eggs onto a plate and grabbing a piece of toast out of the toaster. “The butter is softening. Jam or cinnamon sugar?”
“Cinnamon sugar,” I said with a smile. “It’s in the cabinet above the canisters.”
“I like that when I’m sick too,” she said, rubbing my arm as she put the plate in front of me. “You do look a lot better today.”
“I feel better. And it’s all because of you. You healed me with khichdi and Twix bars.”
“Well,” she said, hopping up on the barstool next to me. “I think I’m going to let you get some rest. I’ve gotta get home and take a shower.”
“Listen,” I said, turning my body to face her and placing my hands on her knees. “I’ll chill today, but let’s do something tomorrow.”
“If you’re feeling better.”
“I will be.”
Lyra laughed. “Fine, it’s a date.”
“Good.”
“Thanks again. I’ll never forget this, Lyra,” I said, squeezing her knee.
“And I won’t let you,” she said with a wink. “Oh, and I left your T-shirt and boxers on the chair. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see ya.”
“Tomorrow,” I corrected her.
“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She kissed me on my forehead and I pulled her in for a hug.
“God, I really, really hope you don’t get sick.”
“If I do, you’ll just have to take care of me, right? I mean, if you can handle it, obviously if I can too.”
“Deal,” I said with a decisive nod. “And I’m gonna let that comment slide because these eggs are so damn good.”
Lyra left my apartment with a laugh and a soft smile. As soon as the door clicked behind her, I abandoned my delicious eggs and toast to walk across the room to the chair where my clothes sat. Grabbing the T-shirt in my hand, I sat down on the chair and inhaled the smell of Lyra. It smelled like her hair—like strawberries, pears, and sensuality. And I never wanted to wash that damn shirt ever again. Better yet, I wanted her to wear it all the time while she danced to Keith Urban in the kitchen. I wanted her to wear it while she read Wuthering Heights in my bed. I wanted to smell her everywhere in my apartment and for her presence to awaken every last one of my senses. Because lord knows it would.
Fuckin’ A. I’m in so much trouble.
And I can’t wait for tomorrow.
Chapter 20
LYRA
It was Sunday afternoon and I was waiting for Dev to arrive at my apartment for our daytime date. He’d assured me he was feeling completely like himself again and that he’d surprise me with our activity, promising it would be something we’d both enjoy. He said to dress comfortably, especially when it came to my shoes.
I was intrigued. Like, very intrigued.
He arrived right on time, once again, only this time he didn’t bust into my apartment complaining about my place being hard to find. Instead, he arrived dressed in a gingham checked Oxford shirt and a crisp pair of khaki pants. His hair was perfectly styled, and he held a bouquet of hot-pink dahlias, my favorite flower. My breath hitched as he handed them to me.
“How’d you know?” I asked, holding the bouquet to my chest as I beamed at him.
“I have my sources.”
<
br /> “Maren.”
“Just, you know, sources.”
“Maren.”
“Fine, Maren.” Playfully, he stuck his tongue out at me. “That’s one of the benefits of our best friends being engaged. I have built-in intelligence working on my side.” He moved closer and I could smell the cinnamon lingering on his breath as he pulled me in for a kiss. Careful not to squish the flowers, I wrapped my free hand around the back of his neck and stroked the hair at the base with my fingertips. He pulled away just a bit and shivered.
“Holy shit, that’s hot. God, I’ve missed you.”
Laughing to myself, I pressed my lips to his, tasting the cinnamon. “It’s only been a day.”
“A day too long,” he murmured, his lips traveling from my lips to my neck.
“I’m glad you’re feeling so well. You definitely seem more like yourself again.”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling back. “And so…are you ready to hear what we’re going to do today?”
“More than ready.”
“Axe throwing.” He put his hands out as if he was about to say “ta-da.”
“Oh,” I said, a little surprised. “Are you sure you’re up for something like that? I mean, you’re still getting over the flu. That’s a really taxing activity, considering you were on your couch for the majority of the last three days.”
“I’ll be fine. And I’ve been thinking about this. You’ve seen me in a compromised state twice now.”
“So?”
“So, I can’t have you thinking I’m this total weakling. I’m a man,” he said, standing tall and puffing out his chest in an overdramatic way, a ridiculous smirk on his face.
Reaching around to grab his ass, I squeezed as I replied. “Believe me, I know that.”
“Whoa. Don’t stop doing that, by the way.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “But my point is, you’re like this sexy Florence Nightingale and everything, and don’t get me wrong, you took care of me better than anyone ever has…and that’s saying something, because my mom is basically an angel sent from heaven—”
“Dev, what are you getting at?” I narrowed my eyes, squeezing his ass once more for good measure.
”Just don’t get used to me being a weakling. I’m a strong, virile man who is more than capable of rocking your world. And throwing an axe.”
“Do I seem concerned?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No.” He shook his head. “It just needed to be said.”
“Why? Why did it need to be said?” I paused, studying his face. He looked conflicted, like he wanted to tell me something but couldn’t come up with the words. “Did Peter and Scott give you shit or something?”
He threw his arms up in the air. “Yes! Those fuckers!”
“Well, as much as I love those guys, they’re morons. Spraining your ankle didn’t make you a weakling. And you were just as gorgeous with the flu as you are right now. ”
“You think I’m gorgeous, huh?” he said, wrapping both arms around my waist and pulling me close, pressing his lips against my forehead. I loved being nestled into his chest, even if my brand-new flowers were getting a little crushed. It was worth it.
“Maybe,” I said, my breath catching at the feel of his lips against my warm skin. Part of me wanted to skip our date altogether and just drag him into my bedroom to have my way with him. And even though I suspected he wouldn’t object at all, he seemed to have something to prove, so I swallowed my desire and wrapped my head around throwing axes together…on a date. I knew it was a trend, but it wasn’t something I’d ever thought of doing.
“Don’t listen to those guys. I could never see you as anything but the sexy, strong, smart-ass, ridiculous man that you are.”
He threw his head back in laughter. “Don’t hold back, Lyra. Seriously.”
“That was me holding back,” I said, pulling away slightly and winking at him. “Let me put these in water and we can go.”
“Okay.”
“So, are we going to eat too? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, I hear the bar has great food, if that works for you.”
“Of course,” I said, snipping the ends of the flowers and placing them in my prettiest glass vase. They looked gorgeous in the sunlight.
“See, that’s one of the things I love about you. Trupti always insisted I take her to fancy places. Wait, is it okay that I mentioned her?”
“Of course. We’ve known each other a while now. I think it’s silly to pretend we don’t have pasts.”
“And yet another thing I love about you.”
“I do like nice restaurants, though,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Just not all the time.”
“Exactly, it’s not special if it’s the only thing you do. And just so we’re clear, what I was trying to say is that you’re flexible. I like that.”
“Message received.” I smirked. I knew he was doing damage control. He didn’t want me to think he was cheap, which I could never in a million years think he was. I’d observed him since Maren started dating Peter. He was generous to a fault. “I still want to go to Tandoori Cafe, by the way.”
“Ooh, that’s right. Want to go there?”
“That depends. Is it too fancy?” I said, with a wink.
“Just fancy enough,” he said.
“Awesome,” I said, fluffing the petals of the flowers. “Thank you again for these. I love how they’re outlined in white, so beautiful.”
“Sure,” he said, looking proud of himself. “I’d never heard of them, actually. But they’re really unique and beautiful…kinda like you.”
“You’re going to give me a big head.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Oh my God,” I said, fighting the urge to laugh. But I lost. A strong cackle left my mouth, and I pressed my hand against his arm and we both laughed.
“You really are ridiculous.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” he said, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head as he pulled me in for a hug. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m starving.”
“So my favorite thing about this place is that everything is served in small plates. Like tapas. It’s the perfect way to try a lot of things.”
“Awesome,” I said as we sat in a cozy table at Tandoori Cafe, Dev’s favorite Indian restaurant. “So, what do you recommend… Besides the samosas?”
“We’re getting all the samosas,” he said with a laugh. “They’re my weakness.”
“And what else?”
“Hmm,” he said, studying the menu. “You have to try butter chicken, and probably tandoori chicken too. Are you okay with getting a bunch of stuff? I want you to try so many things, and it’s hard to decide. My treat, of course.”
“Order whatever you want. I’ll try everything.”
“Sweet,” he said, “and you’re okay with spicy, yes?”
“The spicier, the better,” I said.
“My kind of woman.”
When the waiter arrived, Dev ordered about nine dishes. I was overwhelmed just hearing him rattle them off. I had no idea what to expect, but if the smells coming from the neighboring tables were any indication, my taste buds were about to be very happy.
“Tell me about your family. Aside from Savita and your brother who likes to play board games, I don’t really know anything about them.”
“Ganesh. That’s my brother’s name.”
“Yes, sorry, I forgot.”
“It’s okay. Um…my parents are great. They have a house just outside the city. I’m a mama’s boy, but I’m sure that doesn’t shock you.” Dev laughed before popping a piece of naan into his mouth.
“Not at all. You strike me as a guy who takes care of his mother.”
“Right now she still takes care of me a little bit, but yeah, if she needed me, I’d be there in a heartbeat. But I’m sure you’re the same way. From everything I’ve seen with you and Maren, you love fiercely.”
“I do.” I could feel heat rush to my cheeks. I loved that despite all of our months of bickeri
ng and pushing each other’s buttons, Dev still saw the loving side of me. He still saw all of my positive qualities despite the fact that he could barely stand to be around me.
“And my dad’s awesome. Just a cool cat, you know. He came to this country in 1970, and he fell in love with it. Head over freaking heels. He got me into some quirky music too. He’s just a great guy.”
“Quirky music? I thought you were a rap and hip-hop guy.”
“Most of the time, yeah. But I love me some Harry Nilsson.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Oh man, he was this wacky guy in the sixties and seventies. He inspired the Beatles, I guess. In fact, you’ve probably heard a couple of his songs and don’t even realize it. I’ll send you a playlist. You’d probably love his version of “Over the Rainbow,” actually…since you love that supposed classic.” He used air quotes when he said the word classic, enunciating each syllable in an eye-rolling ridiculous way. But it was kinda cute.
“Oh my God, what is your problem with that movie?”
“I’m just playin’,” he said with a shrug.
“I’d love to hear his version of the song.”
“Oh, have you seen that Tom Hanks You’ve Got Mail movie?”
“Yeah.”
“It plays at the end when they meet in the park.”
“Oh yes! I love that one—it’s so romantic. I had no idea who sang it.”
“My dad watches that movie all the time, just to get to the song. I keep trying to get him on iTunes. No dice.”
“I’d love to meet your dad. He sounds like a really interesting guy,” I said, genuinely intrigued by Dev’s family. “Would they be upset that you’re dating someone who’s…”
“What? Not Indian?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Nah, not at all. Trupti was my first serious relationship with an Indian girl. My parents just want me to be happy.”
“That’s nice.”
“I could ask you the same thing. Will your parents be okay with me being Indian and not Latino?”
“Yeah, they don’t care either. My mom’s been trying to marry me off since I turned twenty-one.” I closed eyes tight, mortified. “Not that we’re getting married or anything. Geez, sorry. I had to make it awkward.”
Stuck With Me: A With Me in Seattle Universe Novel Page 19