Page 44 of Unfolding Ethan

She smirked at me, her nimble fingers—the one that was wrapped around me squeezing me slowly a few moments ago—buttoning the shirt. Her hooded eyes trailed over my bare chest, torso, and lower.

“Of course not,” she said innocently, batting her lashes at me. “Go wear your T-shirt.”

I deadpanned, “I am serious, Kiara.”

Then my eyes lowered to her chest once again and I couldn’t help myself. I pinned her hands away and leaned closer, kissing her perfect pouting breasts as she let out a half squeal, half moan. I moved up, capturing her moan on my lips. Her fingers tightened over my hands, entwining them together.

I pulled away, smiling at her. “Sorry, I had to kiss you.”

She smiled back, her dimple poking her cheek, and the moment was broken when her mother knocked again. With much effort, I pulled away, already missing the warmth of her soft body wrapped around mine.

“Why don’t you go change? I’ll open the door.”

I nodded, blood warming up my neck as I picked up the T-shirt from the floor and pulled it over my chest. I could feel her hungry eyes on me and clenched my jaw at the little pinch on my back. She had scratched my back when she came.

Shaking my head and trying to avoid her sharp gaze, I went to my room taking fresh sweatpants with me to the bathroom. My hair was a mess and I ran a hand through it when I noticed the small hickey on my collarbone and turned to see a small pair of four scratches on my back. I sighed and suppressed my smile as I quickly cleaned myself.I hope Mrs. Sharma didn’t hear either of us come or else it will be an awkward topic to tackle during a family function.

Apparently, her mom knocked on the door because her daughter was missing in her room and wouldn’t pick up her phone. Even I had two miscalls from her, and I didn’t feel guilty of not picking them up as our cell phones were long forgotten on my desk when we had stumbled in my room last night.

She invited both of us for breakfast and we were still hungry, so we went to her home, my stomach grumbling at the smell of delicious poha. But my hunger lasted for only a few seconds, because Mr. Vijay Sharma was also sitting at the table reading a book while his white coat hung behind his chair.

My heartbeat picked up as she greeted her father with a small kiss on his cheek and mumbled good morning in her native language. He nodded at his daughter and gave us the briefest small smile when I added sir after my greeting.

I was stiff and managed a one-word answer when her mother chirped about her daughter and giggled heartily when she pointed to our picture frame on one of the walls.

We both grinned remembering that day. We were about eight years old in that picture and went to a Halloween costume party. The theme of the party was Gods and Goddesses. She was dressed as gorgeous Radha and I was dressed as notorious young Krishna. She almost got into a fight with a kid who kept calling me sick because my body was painted in blue and Lord Krishna didn’t have blue-green eyes. I could still remember holding her dandiya sticks when she marched up to him and gave him a scolding.

She was grinning at the camera even though her red lipstick was smudged over her cheeks and bits of yogurt were scattered over her lips. I was smiling shyly, holding her hand and a handkerchief ready in my other hand to wipe yogurt from her mouth. We won the competition. Especially after doing the difficult Garba dance her mom had taught both of us for one straight month. We still laughed looking at the footage of our practice session.

I had noticed the smudge of blue paint on her hand and my chest when she had squealed at my jewelry on my neck and told me I looked like the cutest little Krishna she had ever seen. I had blushed like a tomato and wished she wouldn’t be able to notice through the paint. And I had kissed her cheek, telling her she looked beautiful in her Indian choli dress.

“I still remember her choli had smudged blue in all different places when she got back home,” her mother said, her brown eyes warm as she looked at both of us. “You both were the cutest pair.”

I wondered if Mrs. Damini Sharma was fighting back her tears as her daughter squeezed her hand and Mr. Vijay gazed at his wife with adoration.

“They still are,” Kiara’s father said, looking between his daughter and me. “The only difference is that she has stopped tying Rakhi to Ethan during Rakshabandhan.”

She groaned and hid her flushed face while I looked everywhere but her parents. Especially her mother, who had a knowing smile on her face eerily similar to my mothers’.

“Dad,” Kiara said, “we talked about this. Ethan is my friend, mybestfriend. And I was a child when I tied Rakhi to his wrist. Wetalkedabout this.”

I didn’t know what they talked about, but looking at her warning stare, I knew I should shut my mouth and eat poha. So, I did while ignoring Mr. Vijay’s gaze on me. Kiara was right. I could never see her as my sister. Never.Ever. Yes, we celebrated Rakshabandhan together as brother and sister, but we were barely five back then. We stopped once we shared a chaste kiss on the lips when we were eight.

That’s why I think Kiara needed to repeat her words. Her dad was smart enough to look down at the book he was reading, hiding his small smile when his daughter gave him the warning look. When her mom wasn’t looking, I slid my hand on Kiara’s knee and slowly made small circles on it with my thumb. She calmed down and tucked the strand of her hair behind her ear and squeezed my hand.

Someone rang the doorbell and I sighed, running a hand through my hair when we all heard his voice.

“KEM CHO BADHA?!” Volt strolled inside, kissing Mrs. Sharma on her cheek and Kiara on her head, and I pushed his face away when he tried to kiss my cheek.

Her mom smiled at him when he went to the kitchen and took his plate from the cabinet. Kiara eyed him suspiciously and I looked at his backward cap, the printed shirt with small oranges and the pants.

“Where are you going?” I asked when he sat down beside Mr. Sharma, who nodded at him with a smile as if this was a daily occurrence.

Volt gave both of us a lopsided grin. “Weare going to Ryan’s farmhouse.”

I was about to shake my head when Kiara asked, “Why? Katherine didn’t call—wait, she might have.” Red flush peppered her cheeks and she stood up, taking her empty plate to the kitchen as she mumbled, “I must have forgotten to call her back.”

Of course she had. We spent the whole night and morning together.

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