“One...” Priti says. Adrenaline pulses through me. “Two...” Rudra and I exchange resolute nods. “Three!”
We practically attack the food.
Rudra and I start with the rotis and naans first. We tear into them, scooping up mouthfuls of a different sabji at each turn, stuffing our throats. I take gulps of the mojito and the lassi between bites, knowing I won’t be able to drink them with a full stomach later. It’s a strategy I’ve utilized plenty of times in the past at countless thali places.
We’re barely halfway through the rotis and naans and I already feel like I’m going to be sick, but I power on, packing my mouth with so much food it gets difficult to swallow. At one point, I nearlychoke on a bite of roti, and Rudra has to thump my back until the food goes down. But if there’s anyone who can do this, who canwinthis, it’s me.
It’s close so far; the three teams are neck and neck (and neck). I’m amused by how right Varun was about Digha eating less, because even with threepeople on their team, they’re falling behind.
Priti groans from where she’s struggling with her last roti. “Look away, boys,” she says, reaching for the waistband of her camo pants. “I’m unbuttoning my pants.”
“Whoa, whoa, hey!”
Varun and Jalaj protest as Priti undoes the first button, and Rudra jerks his head to the side so fast it’s a wonder he doesn’t sprain his neck. There’s color blotting his cheeks, and I hastily look away to avoid him catching me staring.
I don’t know whether to laugh at how mortified he looks or feel jealous. The resulting feeling is a gut-churning mix of confusion, and I accidentally end up biting down on a green chili.
A sudden, sharp sting of spice explodes in my mouth. “Ohmygod!” I gasp, waving my hand frantically in front of my face, eyes already watering. “Chili!”
“Here, have the gulab jamun,” Rudra says, sliding the cup toward me as he starts spooning up rice, chewing with impeccable speed.
I don’t bother with a spoon and instead directly stuff a gulab jamun into my mouth, the sweet and sticky sugar syrup coating my fingers. Unfortunately, that doesn’t do the job either, and I have to force down half the gajar ka halwa to douse the spice.
The heaviness of the food settles in the pit of my stomach, making me press the back of my hand to my mouth. Rudra looks over to me, eyebrows raised.
I open my mouth to assure him I’m okay and can keep going, butI can’t speak because I think I actually may be on the verge of puking up everything I just ate.
Oh no. Oh hellno.
There is no way this is happening right now.
Not in front of another boy.
Notagain!
But no matter what I do, I can’t hold it in, and when I open my mouth, it’s not vomit that comes out—it’s a full-blown, sickening belch.
Everyone looks up, staring at me in shock for a moment, as if unable to believe such a sound could come from me.
But no one is more shocked than I am.
Rudra is staring at me, his eyes wide, as if he’s been rendered speechless by my sudden expulsion of gas. I thought throwing up in front of Amrit was the most embarrassing moment of my life, but can people havetwomost embarrassing moments of their lives? Because this is going to torment—
That’s when, to my utter, unmatched amazement, he burps.
Rudra Desai burps.Even louder, even longer than I did.
That sets off a round of burps from Varun, Jalaj, and Charu. Priti tries her best, poking her neck out like an ostrich and even pressing her stomach to force the gas out, but all she manages is a gag.
Charu and I burst into giggles. Digha looks around at us with her face scrunched in disgust, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of her lips, “Are you all done? Because we still have to eat, you know?”
We dive back into the food, and while I dig into the daal rice, I can’t help but feel grateful again. I smile sheepishly at Rudra, whispering so only he can hear. “Thanks for that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rudra snorts, but there’s a warmth in his words that tells me he does. “And I take it back. You caneat.”
I smile, and although I’m seconds away from bursting, I’m filled with newfound determination to see this through. “Oh, I’m not done, but I don’t seeyoueating, Mr. I’m Five Foot Seven.Oops, sorry,eight.”
“So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” And if I had thought someone couldn’t look hot taking a bite of paratha, I was mistaken, because it seems Rudra can.
