Dil or No Dil

by Suleikha Snyder

  It was a game she’d never get to play herself. Even if she got married at some point, Tiya wasn’t traditional enough to wear shidoor in the part of her hair to signify her off-the-market status. It was a tad too patriarchal for her. And whoever she married probably wouldn’t be up to snuff. Would she even attend Durga Puja in the future when her parents were gone? She didn’t like to think about it, but it was another reality she couldn’t escape.

  “Hey.” The voice, from a few inches above, startled her out of her brooding. Shainik had snuck up on her! The not-so-little jerk!

  She blinked and rearranged her expression into something welcoming. “Hey, stranger! I was wondering when you’d get here.”

  The teen was wearing American clothes today―a striped polo and jeans―but a simple gold chain, just like his father’s, glinted at his throat. “Dad was a total grump this morning,” he explained. “I practically needed a forklift to get him out the door. I don’t think he got any sleep.” Shainik shook his head, dramatically. “What is he thinking? Old people need their rest.”

  Tiya hoped her laugh hid the flush of guilt that heated her cheeks. Arnav hadn’t slept well. And she was the reason. Calling him out of nowhere. Making him think about things neither of them had any business thinking about. “Your dad is not that old!” she huffed. “He’s younger than Tom Cruise,” she pointed out. Hotter, too.

  “And how do you know that?” The kid was entirely too quick on the uptake. “What’d you do, look at his driver’s license?”

  “Tom Cruise’s?” she widened her eyes, feigning innocence.

  Shainik cracked up, flopping against the bleachers beside her. “You’re the best,” he declared. And then he looked at her askance, dark eyes twinkling with more mischief. “Why haven’t you and Dad ever gone out?”

  What? Tiya was really glad there was something holding her up. Because her knees turned to custard. She could only stare at Niku for a long series of seconds, trying to work her jaw back into place. Was she hearing him right? Asking why she and Arnav hadn’t dated? Her head swam. Sweat popped out on her upper lip despite the A/C blasting across the entire building. Clearly she was hallucinating. Arnav Biswas’ son was not seriously wondering about her viability as his parent’s girlfriend.

  “I…uh…” All she could do was sputter. “He was married, remember?” she finally countered. “To your mother. And I live in another state.”

  Shainik made a noise of disbelief that was way beyond his years. Probably inherited from Sumita. “They’ve been divorced for four years. And there’s this thing called the internet,” he reminded. “You could email each other. Skype. Snapchat.”

  What the hell was Snapchat? No. Wait. That wasn’t the question to be asking. Tiya pressed a palm to her chest, trying to slow her breathing. Was there some sort of bizarre male-targeted matchmaking bug infiltrating the puja this year? First Arnav and Baba, and now Shainik? Everyone was getting in on the action. And it was completely bananas.

  She shook her head, mentally stomping on any flickers of hope. “You seriously think I should go out with your father?”

  “Duh. Dada thought of it first,” Niku said, helpfully. “He’s been sizing you up for a while and sending me regular reports. I thought it was time to clue you in.”

  Shauvik had been scouting her this whole time? All those lunches and dinners were…interviews? “Oh my God.” Tiya slid down the bleacher wall until her butt hit the gym floor with a thud.

  “Yup!” Her scheming young friend was entirely too cheerful as he joined her on the ground. “I mean, come on, Tiya. It makes sense. You think he’s hot―gross, by the way―and he really likes you. Dada and I like you, too. It’s kind of perfect.”

  She tried to grasp onto something…a rope…a thread of argument. “I…I do not think Arnav is hot. That is so inappropriate.”

  Apparently she was a terrible liar, because Niku just looked at her like she was hopeless. Tiya whimpered and lowered her head to her knees. “No. This is not happening.”

  So much worry about what their community would think. About what could happen to Shauvik and Shainik if their father married the daughter of a good friend. But it had the boys’ seal of approval. How could that be?

  “…and I’ve always wanted an extra set of grandparents. Plus, their house is really cool.”

  Okay, not only did it have their seal of approval, Niku was already claiming her family as his own!

  Tiya raised her head, allowing herself a few hysterical giggles. “Does this mean I can send you to your room?”

  “Sure, except that we’re at my high school,” he said without missing a beat. “So, you could try sending me to my locker.”

  Lord. Once Tiya felt like she was steady enough to stand, she did Shainik one better. She sent herself toward the principal’s office.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was only after his third Styrofoam cup full of masala cha that Arnav felt passably human and capable of decent interaction. During the fueling process, he stayed out of sight. Ignoring the alerts on his mobile. Only communicating to Karthik and Sujoy in monosyllables. Trying to cling to the memory of Tiya’s voice in his ear. It was one of many memories that would have to sustain him once puja was over.

  Until the next time they met. At a wedding or a festival or at someone’s home. Where they would great one another like casual acquaintances, not almost-lovers.

  Dammit. Arnav stalked out of the kitchen, reading his phone messages as he went, so that he would not risk glancing up and seeing Tiya’s lovely face and figure.

  8:20 a.m. Hey Dad. You there yet?

  Viku was awake? That was a miracle.

  8:25 a.m. Hello?

  8:32 a.m. Can you go find Niku?

  8:45 a.m. Seriously. Find Niku. AND Tiya NOW.

  The last text message was followed by several exclamation points and round-eyed emoji faces, which he assumed translated to “OMG! OMG! OMG!” A young person’s version of red alert.

  Arnav’s stomach lurched, and panic flooded his veins. A directive to look for Shainik and Tiya could mean any number of things…but he was highly skeptical of any of those things being good. He shook off the last of his sluggishness and headed for the registration area. His impertinent younger son’s last known whereabouts. But no one there had seen him in at least twenty minutes―probably an hour, going by Indian Standard Time. Coming up empty, he turned from the ticket booth to hunt his other quarry…and promptly smacked right into her.

  “Ow!” Tiya cried, as she stumbled back.

  He instinctively reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her upright before she could end up splayed out on the floor. And his fingertips burned where they met her bare skin. Every part of him burned, regardless of touch. “Are you alright?” he demanded, glancing over her. Form-fitting blue sari. Perfect and cute hair. Furious eyes. “Have you seen Shainik?”

  “Oh, I’ve seen Shainik,” she assured. “I’ve seen him. I’ve heard him. And your son is officially out of his mind.” Tiya shook her finger at him, agitation rolling off of her in waves. “He’s really gone too far!”

  Arnav gaped. And sputtered. “Why is he my son when he’s in trouble?”

  “Well, he’s definitely not mine!” Tiya cried. “I think I would’ve remembered you knocking me up my senior year of college!”

  It was hard to tell which happened first: her face going utterly white, or the flurry of scandalized gasps. After all, they were not alone. He counted six graduate students, three uncles, four staunch Mashi Party members…and Uttam-da and Ashima-di, who’d just entered the hall.

  Fuck. Arnav reached again for Tiya, but she shook her head and stepped back. For a moment, she swayed, looking as brittle as a fall leaf clinging to a branch. And then she drew up stiff and straight, acknowledging their audience with a little nod before returning her gaze to his. “Your son,” she said, slowly, “thinks we should go out. As in date. Apparently, your other son has been sizing up my eligibility for years.”

>   What?! He blinked. Had the world flipped on its head? Up was down and sky was ground? He could only stare at Tiya, stunned. She tilted her head, gaze narrowing, chin thrust up. Fearless. As brazen as that girl who’d once walked up to him in a parking lot and plucked vodka from his suddenly numb fingers. No wonder she’d captivated him. She was the kind of warrior Ma Durga would be proud of.

  “Well?” she prompted. “What do you think, Arnav?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, even though he had no idea what the words needed to be. “Yes. Let’s date.” “No, forget dating, let us just marry right here and right now.” “I’m sorry, my sons are both idiots of the highest order.”

  “I…” he began, fumbling for the right answer.

  “I think it is wonderful! Great idea!” Her father interrupted, his voice booming across the hallway as he tugged Ashima-di along. She didn’t look nearly as pleased. The tight line of her lips and the harsh slash of her eyebrows promised that her husband and daughter would both be hearing from her later. But Uttam-da could not be stopped. He was a veritable one-man battalion of glee. “I have always wanted ready-made grandsons!”

  “Oh my God!” Tiya threw up her hands. “What is this? A conspiracy? Are you all in on it?”

  “No,” her mother offered, tartly. “We are not all in.”

  Forget being in. Arnav was still far behind. “Will someone please tell me what is going on here?”

  “I don’t know,” Tiya admitted, her bravado faltering. Her eyes beginning to well―with anguish or frustration, he didn’t know. But neither was bearable. “I thought I did, but I honestly have no idea.”

  Murmurs were rising around them. A tide of speculation. Just now it only lapped at their ankles. It would not be long before they drowned. Arnav knew better than to reach for her a third time. Instead he gestured at the hall stretching behind them. The turn of the corridor. “We need to talk privately,” he said, not only for her benefit. “Without all of these prying eyes and ears.”

  “Na!” Ashima-di piped up, both figuratively and literally putting her foot down. “You are not taking Tiya anywhere. What is this nonsense?” she fumed in Bengali. “What are we going to say to everyone?”

  “Mom…” Tiya’s shoulders slumped. She shook her head. In that vulnerable instant, Arnav wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms. But in the next, his brazen goddess returned. Steel infused her spine and she took a deep breath and exhaled before she spoke.

  “You’re going to tell everyone that Arnav Biswas and I are a thing now.” Her tone brooked no arguments…and there were certain parts of his anatomy that were in definite agreement. His heart, for one. “Define ‘thing’ however you want…God knows I haven’t figured it out yet. And then you’re going to go find Shainik and tell him that his father is looking for him.”

  With that pronouncement, she closed the distance between the two of them, took his hand, and led the way through the crowd.

  Arnav let himself be tugged. His head was still spinning. His jaw was still swinging from its hinges. Viku and Niku would probably be in a wealth of trouble when all was said and done. And it was likely his girlfriend’s mother was going to hate him for the foreseeable future. But one matter had crystallized into certainty: Tiya Chatterjee was the most marvelous woman he’d ever known. Falling in love with her, being in love with her, would never be boring.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Tiya’s feet moved on autopilot, and her hand stayed curled around Arnav’s in a vise grip. Two things she was glad for as her brain and her lungs were having trouble functioning. She’d just talked back to Mom in front of a bunch of gossipy Bengalis. Not only that, she’d pretty much declared her intent to fuck Arnav into the next decade. And then she’d dragged him off like he was a gothic heroine and there was a tower room with his name on it. “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” she moaned, Friday’s concerns about vulgarity long abandoned. “This is so messed up.”

  “Really?” Arnav stopped moving. It jerked her to a halt, putting them back-to-chest in the biology wing…their old, ill-advised, make-out stomping grounds. “Because I think it’s working out rather perfectly.”

  He drew her more firmly against him, sliding his arms around her waist. The closeness sent ripples of heat through her body. Comfort, too. No man had a right to feel this good. To smell so delicious. To make her knees weak with just the brush of his lips against the back of her neck. Tiya wanted to lean into him forever, to take some of his strength as her own.

  “I love the tattoo just here,” he whispered as he kissed her skin. “I love all of your tattoos. I want to map each and every one with my tongue.”

  Yes. Please. Do all of that. She ignored the needy, wanton, voice. Forced herself to say sensible things. “D-did you miss the part where we just made a scene? Or that your boys and my dad are apparently Team Tinav?”

  “Tinav?” He scoffed. “Don’t you think Team Arya sounds much better?” His lips moved from her neck to her shoulder, skimming down the cotton sleeve of her blouse to her bare arm. He caught the tail-end of her tiya bird and pressed a kiss there, too. “It does not matter to me what we call it. As long as we are a team,” he said, holding her like something delicate and cherished. Or perhaps like a bird he thought might fly away at any given second. “Everything we were afraid of…all that held us back…it is in the open now. And I would rather face the consequences with you than without.”

  He was right. There was no going back. Tiya had made sure of that. In fact, she’d basically napalmed the bridge. Genius. A few swear words escaped her lips, and then she turned and stifled the rest against his mouth. The kiss was swift, hard, more profanity than promise. When she pulled back they were both breathless.

  Arnav gazed down at her, dark brown eyes lit with a combination of warmth and arousal. “You’re still a good Bengali girl, Tiya,” he reassured, gently. “But you are also more than that to me. You’re enchanting. Smart. Funny. Beautiful. So very brave. You are a remarkable woman. One I must have in my life.”

  “I…I didn’t think I could be in your life,” she confessed. So many years. So many invisible barriers. Maybe Ganesh had removed a few obstacles after all. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was 25.” Her laugh was in hysterical registers again. But given the circumstances, she figured it was one-hundred percent warranted. “I thought you were so sexy. So fun to talk to. I looked forward to every event I knew you were going to be at. And I was such a flirt. Oh my God.”

  “I noticed.” Arnav soothed her with more kisses. Across the bridge of her nose and along her temple. “And why should you do all the work, hmm? So, this time, I flirted first. Because I could. Because I am free to. I’m free,” he repeated. “We both are. We can do whatever we want, Tiya. The future is ours.”

  They could really do this. Go on a date. Go on multiple dates. Date long distance. Spend a weekend in bed. A month. Celebrate Christmas and Saraswati Puja and the Bengali New Year. Show up at next year’s Durga Puja together. It was all possible.

  Tiya snaked her arms around Arnav’s neck. She arched up to kiss his jaw and his earlobe and the hints of silver in his sideburns that he hadn’t quite been able to hide. “Am I free to love you?” she wondered, nearly tripping over the words. “Is that too much?”

  “No.” His voice was gruff against her hair. “It is just right. We are just right.”

  She didn’t know how long they stood there. Minutes. Hours. She didn’t want to gauge the time. Only to revel in it. They didn’t need Bijoya salutations and shidoor games. They had years of that ahead of them. But there was only one first day of the rest of their lives.

  Arnav’s palm slid down the rope of her spine, coming to rest just above her ass. He played with the folds of silk there, teasing as if he would pull her sari loose right here in the middle of Blue Ash High School. “You know, I am already half in love with you,” he informed, his gorgeous lips quirking in a smile.

  “Glad to hear it.” She smiled r
ight back. So wide her cheeks hurt. And the glow spreading through her was truly a sensation beyond words. Like being drunk and high and full of eggplant fritters and…happy. “So…” She cocked her head, sizing up her bona fide Durga Puja blessing in all his handsome glory. “Where are you taking me to dinner?”

  About the Author

  Editor, writer, American desi and lifelong geek Suleikha Snyder is an author of contemporary and erotic romance. A passionate advocate for diversity and inclusivity in publishing, Suleikha is frequently ranting when she should really be adding to her body of work—which includes multiple Bollywood-set romances and several shorts and novellas.

  City dweller Suleikha finds inspiration in genre fiction, daytime and primetime soaps, and anything that involves chocolate or bacon. Visit her online at www.suleikhasnyder.com and follow her on Twitter @suleikhasnyder.

  Also by Suleikha:

  Spice and Smoke (Bollywood Confidential #1)

  Spice and Secrets (Bollywood Confidential #2)

  Bollywood and the Beast (Bollywood Confidential #3)

  Ishq Factors: an erotic collection

  Seared (Master Chefs #1)

  Tikka Chance on Me

  Copyright

  © 2018 by Suleikha Snyder

  Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.Com

  “Giving Him Fitz,” originally published by Ravenous Romance, 2011

  “Opening Act,” originally published in 2014

  “A Taste of Blessings,” originally published in Silver Belles by River Hills Press, 2016

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.