Page 69 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“You never have to thank me, Tara.”

“Why is this so easy, yet we seem…impossible? It should be easy.”

I looked straight into her eyes and the answer was right there, we never had a fair chance.

When we returned to the living room with the hot coffee, she settled down at the other end of the couch from me and pulled up her legs.

“Do you remember that attendant in the dean’s office?” she asked, her slender fingers wrapped around the mug.

I nodded. “He had that strange look in his eyes, as if he could peer into your soul and know what you were thinking.”

“Yes, he was always kind to students who looked sad or distraught. Oh, how he hated you, Rehani.” She laughed. “As if he saw through to your dark soul.”

“That’s funny because I distinctly remember he didn’t like you much either.”

“That’s because I didn’t carry my emotions on my sleeve. He never saw me upset, even when I was.”

“Yes, he only saw your haughtiness. No surprise there.”

“You’re one to talk!” She tossed right back. “But the real reason he hated you was for your extracurriculars. I saw how he glared at you when you tried to woo young women.”

“Hey, hey, hey. I didn’t need to woo anyone, did I? If anything, I was the one being wooed.”

“Oh yes, of course, women were tripping over themselves falling for you,” she said with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Over themselves and each other.” I winked.

She shook her head. “You’re shameless.”

I placed my mug on the coffee table. “What else do you remember?”

“Everything!”

“Wanna bet who remembers more?”

“What are the stakes?” she asked, depositing her mug on the side table.

“Whatever you want.”

“Then let’s make it fun.” Her tone matched the naughty glint in her eye.

“I sense trouble…”

“If you fail to answer my question, you’ll have to sit through an entire Bollywood song of my choice. And if I fail to answer yours, I’ll suffer through whatever loud music you want. What do you say?”

I grinned. “You’ll never give up, will you? How long are you going to hold that against me?”

She tilted her head with a cute smile. “Until you concede that Bollywood is good music.”

“If those are the stakes, you’re on.”

“I knew it, you egomaniac. You wanna go first?”

“Sure, let me think…okay, what was the name of the eatery that had the best sandwiches?”

“Testy, with an ‘e’. Amar’s favorite place,” she said with a beautiful, toothy grin. It was Tasty misspelled.

“Not bad.”

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