Page 39 of The Summer List

She’s got her back to me, and I see the way her shoulders tense. She stands stock-still for a couple seconds before she sets the food bowl down on the counter.

“Oh,” she says, the sound so high-pitched it’s almost past the range of human hearing.

Part of me wants to laugh, and the rest of me is burning with the need to find out what would happen if she turned around.

She’s probably just shocked I said the word ‘nipple’ in front of her, or maybe freaked out by me admitting I want to get a piece of metal stabbed through mine, but I can’t help wondering if maybe there’s another reason she froze like I’d whipped my shirt off right here in the kitchen.

Or if freezing is all she’d do if I really did strip my shirt off while she watched.

A loud gurgle from the coffee machine makes me flinch, and I look over to see my mug is now full. I wrap one of my hands around the cup and lift it to my mouth for a sip even though it’s still way too hot. The liquid tastes bitter and earthy.

“I’m gonna get dressed,” I tell Naomi as I head for the staircase.

She still hasn’t looked at me, and she mumbles something too quiet for me to catch as I leave the room. I decide not to ask her what she said. The back of my neck feels hot, like the right words from her could have me breaking out in a sweat.

The wrong words, I correct myself as I pad up the stairs slow enough not to spill my coffee. Definitely the wrong words.

There would be nothing right about acting on whatever this whole pseudo-flirty vibe between us is. I don’t even know if she’s actually into me, and either way, I’m supposed to leave as soon as we’re done with the list.

I can’t get caught up thinking some random summer fling is going to give me all the answers I need. Not again.

I pause on the landing and take another couple scalding sips of coffee, willing the caffeine to sort out all the jumbled thoughts in my head. Once I’ve gotten dressed and downed the rest of the mug, I flop down on my bed and spend the rest of the time until Shal and Priya’s arrival trying to play through a Fleetwood Mac song on my guitar. I keep zoning out and needing to restart. The better part of an hour passes, and I only manage to get through the chorus once.

There was a time when I thought maybe music was the thing I was looking for, the direction I could steer my whole life towards, but even though music has been there for me during times when no one else was, singing and guitar have only ever been hobbies to me. I’ve never loved playing enough to want to shape my whole life around it.

I’ve never loved anything like that.

The sound of a car horn out in the driveway makes me jump. I scramble to put my guitar away and then slide a stack of bracelets and a few rings on to complete my jean shorts and tank top outfit before jogging back down to the kitchen.

I find Naomi pulling her shoes on in the entryway. She’s traded the leggings and plain t-shirt she was wearing this morning for tan high-waisted shorts, a wide belt, and a little blue striped blouse partially tucked in.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her dressed up, and I have to pretend to be engrossed in finding my shoes to keep from staring.

“So we’ve been summoned?” I ask when the car horn honks again.

“Shal just texted to say Priya won’t get out of the car since she’s scared she’ll lose her nerve if she does, and Shal doesn’t want to come in and leave her alone because she’s scared Priya will bolt and hide in a shrub or something.”

I press my lips together to hide my smile as I slip my sandals on. It’s moments like these that make it clear why Priya and Naomi are best friends. I can totally see her using the ‘hide in a shrub’ method too.

“I didn’t answer her yet, so she probably thinks we haven’t heard the car,” Naomi explains as the horn blasts again, long enough to make us both wince.

“We better go before the neighborhood watch rolls in,” I say as I lead the way out.

I press the lock button on the front door’s fancy keypad once we’re out on the steps. We head for the driveway, and Naomi hauls open the side door of the minivan. We each take one of the bucket seats in the back while Shal greets us from up front. Bollywood music is blasting so loud on the stereo she has to crank the volume knob down before we can hear her.

“I’m trying to pump her up with the Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani soundtrack,” she says, gesturing at where Priya is sitting in the passenger seat with her forehead pressed to the window and her arms wrapped tight around her stomach, “which usually she can’t resist, but not even ‘Badtameez Dil’ is working.”

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Priya moans. “Ma is going to kill me.”

Shal shifts the car into gear and swings the van around to head for the gate while she makes shushing noises at her sister.

“I told you, Ma never needs to know.”

Priya flops forward so her head is braced against the dashboard. “And I told you I’m not getting any private areas pierced, which means I’m going to have to face her wrath, not you.”

Shal shrugs as she slows the van to a stop and waits for the gate to swing open. “You still have a chance to get a tattoo instead, like me.”

“Do you know what you’re getting?” Naomi asks over the sound of another groan from Priya.

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