Isha unscripted, p.22
Isha, Unscripted, page 22
“Not at all happy to see me?” he asked, taking a step toward us.
My frowning façade broke. “You’re sweaty.”
“I thought women liked man sweat,” he teased, acting like he was coming in for a hug as I turned from him.
“Ew! No!” Although, secretly, hell yes. There was a hefty dose of sexy pheromones wafting off him and if we weren’t in public with campus police rolling by, we’d be in trouble.
His sweaty chest ever so lightly touched my back as he lowered his head to my ear, the one farthest from a growling Rogue, who was about to lose her crap.
I scrunched up my shoulder and backed away from his teasing. Not because I wanted to, because the good lord knew better, and definitely not because I didn’t want his sexy sweat all over me, but for the sake of Rogue, who was now shaking with frenzied attack energy.
I cradled her and cooed to her and snuggled with her to get her to calm down.
“She really hates me?” Tarik asked, hurt dripping from his tone, as if Rogue had been the love of his life and had slashed ties. “Dogs usually love me.”
“Not when you try to scare their mama,” I replied, my back still to him.
From the corner of my eye, his arm appeared, as if he might hug me this time. Instead, he offered his hand to Rogue. She didn’t sniff or bite. She simply glared at him.
Mm! It was her formidable I’ll cut a bitch stare. She had enough practice with her toys and was looking to draw blood.
“I’m sorry, Rogue,” he told her.
“She’ll be fine,” I promised with a hefty sigh as she began to calm against my chest. “I should get her out of the sun. She’s always happier with food and water. Do you want to sit with us?”
“I’d love to.”
We walked around the large fountain and up the steps onto the South Mall, a sprawling courtyard between the fountain and the tower. I limped on the last step, an abbreviated bolt of pain surging up my ankle.
Tarik lifted a hand as if to catch me by the waist before I steadied in a nanosecond. He didn’t touch me and retracted his arm, asking, “Your ankle?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you RICE it?”
“Hmm?”
“Ya know: rest, ice, compress, elevate?”
“Oh, nah. I took some ibuprofen. It’ll be fine.” Although, dumb me. I really should’ve applied ice and kept it elevated. Hungover Isha wasn’t thinking about it, to be honest. And as much as I’d slept, I safely presumed that counted as enough elevation.
Aside from the steps, the level ground dismissed any up and down that could aggravate my ankle, which thoroughly helped.
There weren’t a lot of students sitting around between classes or meeting people at this time of day, which gave us first pickings of shaded areas. First, I checked for birds in branches before choosing a tree. We were not getting pooped on today! When I’d ascertained the perfect location, I dropped my purse and sat down, securing Rogue in my lap.
We sprawled out on the grass on the South Mall, flanked by the Six-Pack, as clouds rolled overhead to provide extra relief from the sun. Tarik stretched his long legs in front of him, feet spread apart, and leaned back on his hands.
“Nice legs,” I teased.
“My eyes are up here, you know?”
He glanced at Rogue, who gave him serious side-eye shade, and quirked a smile. “She’s protective, huh?”
“Extremely. Don’t let her small size and adorable bark mislead you. She’ll go straight for the throat.”
She let a low growl rumble through her chest when he leaned toward her, the sound sending vibrations through my hands.
“Aw, be nice,” I said, cuddling against her. “This is Thirst-Trap. Don’t you recognize his voice from the phone? You liked his voice before.”
“Did she?”
“She was absolutely mesmerized.”
He cautiously, slowly lifted his hand to her again. This time, she sniffed. When she finished a full deconstruction of his scent, she dropped her lower jaw and panted so that her tongue stuck out. And suddenly, she’d transformed from attack dog to utter adorableness.
“I’m dead,” he said, as mesmerized by her as she was by him. “She just killed me with cuteness.”
I smiled and watched their intrigued interaction. Rogue was a sweet girl, but she’d never let down her guard for strangers as quickly as she had for Tarik. And Tarik? Dare I think that he might be in love with her?
“Were you out jogging when you spotted me?”
“Yeah. I live nearby but can’t jog in the morning when it’s much cooler because I’m asleep. I have to get in some exercise before work and try to catch the shadiest parts. Which is on campus.” He wiped glistening sweat from his brow and neck.
“Oh! Would you like some water?” I asked, loosening my hold on Rogue to sift through my tote. She went limp on my lap, resting her chin on my thigh to watch Tarik. The girl was practically in love with him, too.
“That’d be great,” he said, and took the extra water from me. He drank half the bottle on the first swig.
I set out Rogue’s travel dish, pouring water into one side and a few kibble into the other, then sanitized my hands when she crawled off my lap to sit on the grass at my feet. She lapped water and ate and then lay down on her stomach to watch a butterfly in the near distance, her plump behind facing us.
“I also have snacks!” I said with a grin.
Tarik seemed pleased when I presented him with a container of cheese cubes and roasted almonds. He sanitized his hands before sharing, which earned him extra points.
“Food, drinks, and a view? Can I consider this a date?” he asked, popping an almond into his mouth.
I pushed down rising nervousness and nodded. “You can buy next time.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”
He turned to me and said, “You know you just agreed to go on a date with me. I mean, for a second time.”
Oh! I had, hadn’t I? Well, there was no backing out of it now. “I don’t know if you can top this date, to be honest.”
“It is pretty amazing.”
He dared to pet Rogue and she let him. She even rolled onto her side for a belly rub. Shameless!
“See? Dogs love me,” he declared. “Is her name where I think it’s from? Marvel?”
“Are you one of those guys into comics?”
“Quite possibly one of the biggest Marvel fans out there.”
Be still my heart. “Rogue is named after Rogue from X-Men. But to be clear, I’m the biggest Marvel fan out there and I have an autographed drawing to prove it.”
He held his hands up. “Can’t dispute that.”
I glanced around as a breeze swept through and sighed. Nostalgia tackled me in the gut as the excitement and energy from college days swam through my memories. I was momentarily thrust back to a time when I was carefree and happy and beheld an entire future chasing my passion as obtainable and without blemish. I’d never thought I would end up being this fraught with pessimism and failure.
“I really miss campus days,” I muttered.
“Me, too. They were good times.”
“Did you attend UT?”
He poked a thumb at himself and declared, “Proud Longhorn alum. Majored in business. Thought about going for my MBA, but the master’s students I knew were all pretentious assholes.”
I coughed on my water. “I mean, well . . . it’s a prestigious program.”
He tilted his head to the side. “But no one has to be a jerk about it.”
“Do you regret not going?”
“No. I got out of corporate America and bought the bar. It was the better decision for me.”
“My parents would beg to disagree.”
He shrugged. “So would mine. But it’s not their blood pressure going through the roof trying to work in an office.”
“I’m glad you found, pursued, and thrived with your calling.”
“Thanks. Me, too. You’ll be thriving soon, too,” he added, nudging my shoulder with his. “It all started here, right? One of the best universities in the country with classes taught by one of the best actors in the country.”
I almost, almost opened my mouth to spew a ludicrous plan of getting into UT’s database to track down Matthew McConaughey but stopped myself just in time. Wouldn’t want to scare him off because he thought I was off my axis.
Tarik and I both leaned back, our hands in the grass, and watched the stretch of land ahead of us. A funnel of buildings to the end of campus, disrupted only by the fountain and a line of trees. This was, hands down, one of the most iconic and scenic spots on campus.
I didn’t have to look down to notice how close our hands were to each other on the lawn when his finger caressed mine. Such a soft, fleeting, innocent brush that sent raging butterflies through me. I hadn’t felt this giddy since high school, or this turned on since we were last in Tarik’s office. Maybe, just maybe, even if my career didn’t take off the way I wanted or if I had to eventually change gears from my bigger-than-life dreams, maybe I had . . .
I sucked in a breath. Could I dare think it? Could I even mutter the thought in the recesses of my mind? Had I found someone who liked me in this vast, messy life of mine?
“I have to get ready for work soon,” Tarik said, solemnly breaking our perfect serenity.
My phone pinged with an email notification right as he moved away to sit up. “What a shame,” I told him as my gaze flitted to my screen.
“What’s the smile for?”
“Oh!” Was I smiling? I guess I was! Relief and excitement stormed through my words when I replied, “My college friend, who works at a production company, recommended me for a position with her boss. I have a virtual interview with them tomorrow.”
“Congrats!” He nudged my shoulder again with his. “I told you. Thriving soon.”
“Thanks!” I replied as I clicked on the scheduling link and confirmed the interview. There was no way to ignore how badly I needed this, and there was no way to escape the hope bubbling in the pit of my soul, despite knowing how devastating the blow would be if this job didn’t land.
As if Tarik sensed my anxiety like heat fumes rising from scorched Texas summer sidewalks, he said, “Since your schedule is about to get booked, should I try to slide into a time slot now?”
“Depends,” I said.
“Oh yeah? On what?” The corner of his mouth tilted upward.
Why was it impossible to not stare at his mouth? How obvious could I be? “Do you like pizza?”
His lips curled up higher into that lopsided smile, showing those perfect, pointed canines. “There’s an exceptional pizzeria not far from here. Slices bigger than your face. Tomorrow is a slow night for us. I can meet you there?”
“Sounds like you’re going in for the official date.”
“Or maybe I just really, really want to know how your interview goes.”
My skin warmed. It was going to go great because put-together Isha was confident, especially virtually. And put-together Isha knew how everything was riding on this.
Chapter 21
I hadn’t been on a date in a grievously long time—did people even meet in person anymore?—but leaving an interview where I didn’t embarrass myself left me in a good place. This time, I remembered not to stand up for any reason and give my breasts or crotch any screen time. The last time I had a virtual interview, I stood up to get something and had forgotten that I was wearing short shorts. I made sure to wear slacks this time just in case.
Plus, it helped that I was on my merry way out the door to both avoid my parents and see Tarik. Yes, the man had me feeling all sorts of ways. If only Mummie could see me now . . . not wearing sweatpants and making an effort!
I tugged down on my miniskirt over tights on the sidewalk and took a moment to breathe, letting my muscles relax before putting myself in front of Tarik again. When I was ready, when the shaking had subsided, I pulled back my shoulders and moved ahead.
The only parking spot to be found was a few blocks from the famous pizzeria, which was fine. It was nice to get a little walk and a little movement for my ankle as it slowly healed.
It was rush hour with migraine-inducing loads of traffic, both cars and pedestrians. I was glad to have found a parking spot where I did and enjoyed discovering new places on my trek. Like this boba tea and snow dessert shop and a place that served only baked potatoes. Carbs had never smelled so good.
Up ahead, the pizzeria appeared with a neon green-and-red sign. I’d looked up the restaurant on my phone and found that it had high ratings, a ton of positive reviews and awards, and had even been featured on local TV and in magazines. I expected the prices to match the praise.
Inside, the place smelled divine. Open fire pits cooked pizzas and breads and desserts to perfection. Fresh salads and sides filled up bowls. Entire pizzas sat on metal pedestals in the centers of tables. And was that a tiny individual s’mores grill set someone was eating over? Why yes. I knew what I was having for dessert.
The wait was another fifteen minutes, so I put us down for two and walked back outside to get some air and catch Tarik on the way in, if nothing else than to make sure this was indeed the right place.
Rohan: Whatcha doing? Feeling better?
Isha: Definitely, thanks! Slept on it. Talked it out. About to get pizza.
Rohan: You didn’t invite me?
Isha: Thought you’d had enough of me after last weekend.
Rohan: No such thing as too much Isha. Cuz you the ish.
I laughed. Oh my lord. This boy . . .
Isha: LOL. I haven’t ordered yet. There’s a wait. Thirst-Trap invited me to try it.
Rohan: I seeeeee. He’s making his move.
Isha: You’re more than welcome to join. You can impress your soon-to-be boss?
Rohan: Third wheel to you and Thirst-Trap? Nah.
Isha: LOL! Want me to bring you a slice, then?
Rohan: Sure. You know what I like. No biggie, though, I’m making dabeli. But . . . uh . . . I understand if you get too BIZZAY . . .
Isha: Eh. In that case, can you stop by my house and take Rogue out?
Rohan: And be an enabler?
Isha: Of what? Getting . . . BIZZAY?
Rohan: LMAO! I mean drinking.
Isha: No drinks! He made me nonalcoholic drinks, and they were even better than alcoholic ones. It’s my way now.
Rohan: OK. Get your thirst quenched. Just don’t tell me about it.
Isha: Omg. Bye!
Rohan had me cracking up in the middle of bustling crowds. While we were adults and he was my bro, it was just a little weird to joke about intimate things with my guy cousin. But still amusing.
I slipped my phone into my purse and glanced up. Tarik strolled toward me looking gorgeous, glowing in the early evening. I bit my lip, loving how my body reacted to just seeing him. My heart fluttered in my chest, butterflies danced in my belly, and my skin flushed a full degree warmer. And then my entire body roared to furnace levels when his gaze skimmed the length of my body.
He seemed to instinctively mumble “Damn” under his breath. “You look very beautiful,” he said instead.
“I know,” I replied. “So do you.”
“I try. What was so funny?” he asked, stopping in front of me, his hands in his jacket pockets. Oh, such a delectable height. Something about a handsome guy towering over me, smiling down like the sun, and making my goodies tingle had my knees ready to buckle. Good lord, was I living in a rom-com?
But nothing like the thought of my family to void all sultry images. “My cousin. The one I was here with on Saturday. Rohan. He loves pizza.”
“I know Rohan,” Tarik said with a laugh. “He has a good sense of flavor.”
“How would you know?” I prodded.
“I believe my brother picked Rohan as a final runner-up for taking over my menu. I haven’t tried anything from him yet, but Seth raves about his dishes.”
I slowly smiled. At this very moment, Rohan was making his famous dabeli from scratch. He was baking tiny slider buns after meticulous proofing, boiling and mashing potatoes, roasting and adding aromatic spices, buttering and grilling those buns, smothering them in both spicy and sweet chutney, and topping them with peanuts and pomegranate seeds with a sprinkling of diced onions and cilantro. My mouth was watering.
“What’s that look?” Tarik inquired.
“You won’t regret hiring Rohan.”
He held his hands up. “I didn’t say anything about hiring. I don’t want to disappoint you if things don’t work out.”
“I know. It’s business, and no favoritism.”
“Glad you understand.”
“But let’s just say, your taste buds aren’t ready for what Rohan can cook.”
He cocked an eyebrow, his chin leveled so that he had to lower his gaze to meet mine. “Is that so?”
“Seth knows what he’s doing. Expanding the menu the right way will have your returns exploding.”
“I look forward to trying his food.”
“Cuisine,” I corrected. “It’s a level beyond mere food.”
He leaned toward me. “Well, now you’ve raised my expectations sky high.”
I flinched. I hoped I hadn’t ruined Rohan’s chances by being honest. I sighed and tapped his chest. “You’re not ready.”
He laughed and asked, “Shall we go in?”
He opened the door for me, sending a whiff of cinnamon-laced cologne. We’d sat at a cozy table for two next to the window when he asked, “How was the interview?”
“It went well. The fact that I managed not to make a fool of myself for once says a lot.”
“When will you hear back?”
