Page 114 of Debugging Love

“Danni?”

Oh no. “Hmm?”

“You’re the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

My eyes fly open. Chance the player is not onlynota player, he’s never kissed a girl besides me? Wait. This is one of his jokes, the kind he makes with no humorous delivery whatsoever. “Ha ha.”

“Don’t laugh. I’m not kidding.”

I prop myself up on my elbow and squint at his silhouette. The sliver of light from the window outlines him perfectly. “You’re lying.”

He folds his hands behind his head. “Why is that so strange to you?”

“It’s not–it’s…”

“India isn’t like America. Not where I’m from. We do things differently.”

“Yeah, it’s…” I shake my head, still not believing, yet wanting to. I’m the first girl he kissed?

The silliness washes over me again. Making me think silly thoughts about doing silly things. The urge is too strong. I lean over and search for Chance’s lips in the dark. When we meet, he lifts his head to press closer, his hands remaining at his sides.

Chance’s second kiss is as good as his first, like he’s been practicing his entire life. Yet he saved himself. For me? That makes me want to kiss him longer, harder.

We settle in, his head sinking into the pillow. I don’t want to let go, but I know I have to, so I retreat, stealing a few indulgent pecks before I return to my side of the bed. He sighs heavily, doesn’t say a word.

I flop onto my back, pull the comforter up to my chin and enjoy the heavy weight of the darkness.

“Chance?” I say after several minutes have passed.

“Hmm?”

“You have a nice voice.”

He props himself onto his side. “Thanks.”

“Where did you learn to sing?”

“My mom wanted me to study music. Dadi wanted me to learn Carnatic music, so I learned it alongside Western classical music.”

I roll onto my side and draw circles on the comforter with my index finger. “Do you know any lullabies?”

He reaches over and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Maybe. Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

The mattress vibrates as he laughs. He takes in a slow breath and begins singing in words I don’t recognize, the melody weaving between happiness and sadness, his tone dipping expertly on the high notes and then soaring down to a deep, resonant rumble. He finishes by drawing near, finding my lips, and crescendoing into a kiss.

“That’s…that’s very good,” I sputter.

He inches closer, pulls me into an embrace, his lips falling against my neck. He lays a trail to my ear and then begins singing another soft, lilting melody. When he’s done, he scoots back to his side and stretches onto his back.

I don’t speak because I literally can’t. Chance is a voice thief. Instead I enjoy the lingering warmth from his kisses while my brain does pirouettes and backflips.

As I’m halfway between reality and dreams, it occurs to me: Maybe this isn’t silliness at all. Maybe it’s something more. But I fall asleep before figuring out what “more” might be.

Chapter 25

Danni

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