My throat tightens. There are so many things I want to say. It’s allbrimming to the surface now that I’ve had a chance to help Priti find happiness again. I need to tell him how I—
“Krishna?”
My heart lurches so hard in my chest I nearly gasp in shock while Rudra’s eyes darken. I turn to the source of the voice, the oh-so-familiar voice I swooned over all summer.
Standing a few feet from me is Amrit Acharya.
33
The Universe Sure Does Love to Send Me Signs
Goa, Monday
“Krishna?” Amrit says again, staring at me as if I’ve just been ejected from a swirling portal in front of him. I might as well have been, because this situation is making me delirious. My head feels all funny.
“Hey, Amrit,” I say, waving awkwardly. Two days ago, I was flirting with him, sending him texts, telling him I liked him. Three days ago, I was embarking on a fucking road trip tokissthe guy. And now,everythinghas changed.
I think I’m going to throw up.
“I can’t believe my eyes,” Amrit gushes. “Like, you’re here. You’re actually here!” He’s wearing a sea-green kurta and a matching pair of mochi shoes, contrasting well with his stark white pajamas. He’s clean shaven, as always, and his wavy hair is pushed away from his face, making his features stand out. He looks good. He always has, always does.
And yet, I feel nothing for him.
Zero, zilch, nada.
Because the guy I feeleverythingfor is standing right beside me.
Or hewasstanding right beside me. Because when I turn to look for Rudra, all I see is him walking away from me. And I have no idea what to make of it.
My words nearly bubble out. Why is he leaving? Why has he been acting so distant all day?
“What are you doing here?” Amrit says, and when I turn to him, gulping heavily, his eyes are practically alight with happiness.
Amrit thinks I’m here for him. I was, but not anymore. And as much as I want to run after Rudra, I know I need to clear things up with Amrit first.
I can sense a thin layer of his uncertainty floating on top of his skin, like malai on milk, the longer I don’t respond. I hate to do this to the first boy who ever felt anything at all for me, but I need to curdle the milk.
“I know, it’s kind of wild, honestly,” I say.
“But your flight? You didn’t go back to the US?” All these questions, hope replacing uncertainty bit by bit.
“No, no, I didn’t. There’s—” I say, and laugh suddenly, the perception of everything that’s changed completely in a matter ofdayshitting me like a wall of bricks. “There’s so much that’s happened. I don’t even know where to begin.”
He smiles. “Why do I get the feeling it’s a hell of a story?”
“You’re not wrong. Are you okay to talk? Like, right now?” I wave my hand, motioning to the festivities unfolding around us.
“Yeah, of course,” Amrit says. “Do you want to sit?”
“Please.”
Once we’re seated on two of the white chairs at the very back,facing the mandap, I tell him everything.
It doesn’t take too long, because I leave out the unimportant details—about Priti, especially—and, well, it’s a few days’ worth of adventures (although it feels like a lot more). I see a motley of emotions pass across his face.
When I’m finished, I feel like I’ve emerged from a vacuum, because the sounds and sights around me are suddenly thrice as dazzling. The number of people has also tripled, and the seats around us are starting to fill up.
Amrit leans back, stunned, gazing out at the dark sea. I let him regroup, knowing that’s the least he deserves after everything I’ve done.
