“Thanks… . you can sit.”
While she perches on the bed like she really doesn’t want to touch anything, I take the comfy chair by my desk, facing her.
“So.”
“So.” She holds my gaze for a long moment, before turning away and saying, “First of all, you have to tell your mom that we’re together.”
“What?” Lying to Amma is the last thing I want to do, and I’ve already done it way too much these past few days.
“Otherwise you’re going to give everything away,” Ishita says. “You were a disaster down there. Your mom definitely suspects something is up. Just easier to say that we’re dating, right?”
Would Amma even believe that? She knows me better than anyone else in the world and … Ishita is not exactly my type. Though I guess Amma doesn’t know that. There have never been any girls before.
“You weren’t much better, you know.” I shoot back at Ishita. “You shouldn’t have even rung the bell. You could have just texted me so I could open the door—”
“You didn’t even give me your number,” she points out. And I know it’s true but the fact that I’m even partially at fault for the disaster downstairs makes me even more annoyed at her.
“Well, you didn’t ask for it.” My voice comes out more like a snarl than anything else. It even takes me aback. I haven’t heard that kind of anger in my voice—or even felt this constant itch of irritation—since before Polash left for London.
Ishita raises her palms up in front of her, like she’s surrendering. “This is not how couples act, just so you know.”
“Because you know a lot about what couples act like?” The words are out of my mouth before I can take them back.
She observes me with narrowed eyes for a moment before shaking her head and standing up. “Okay, this is obviously a waste of time. I should just go home and find someone else to fake date. I didn’t commit myself to anyone yet.”
There’s a sinking feeling in my chest and it grows wider and wider with every step she takes. And she’s taking mighty slow steps like she doesn’t really want to leave.
I imagine Aisling’s smug face at lunch today, and Dee’s words from Friday echo in my head. That helps me swallow down my anger.
“I’m sorry.” Ishita halts in her tracks. I bite my lip, wishing that I didn’t have to do this. “I … need you. More than you need me, I guess.”
Ishita turns to face me. There’s a flash of something in her eyes that I can’t quite make out. “I’m sorry too.” The words take me aback. Ishita Dey apologizing instead of gloating in her win? “We both need each other to make this work. So … we should both try to make this work. Right?”
I hold her gaze for a moment before taking a deep breath and nodding. “Right. Sorry. I should have given you my number.”
“You should have.” There’s a hint of smugness in Ishita’s voice as she sits down. There’s the Ishita I know.
“So … I guess I can lie to Amma,” I say. It’ll be hard but Amma will definitely figure out something is up if I don’t. “But … then you’ll be outed to my parents. And to the school. Are you okay with that?”
Ishita shrugs. “It’s not being outed if I out myself, you know. As long as it doesn’t get back to my parents—and it won’t—I’m good.”
“Okay … so … you should probably call me Maira from now on. It’s what my friends call me. Nobody calls me Humaira.”
“I’m not calling you that,” Ishita scoffs. “That’s a bastardization of your name. Why do you let them call you that?”
“It’s difficult to say Humaira.”
“It’s literally one extra syllable. Plus, they say Maira wrong. They say it like Máire, which is a different name!”
I can’t help the smile that bubbles up inside me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get worked up over a name before.
“Look … you can’t keep calling me Humaira. It’s … weird.”
I insist. “Nobody calls me that. Maybe you should call me Hani.”
“Fine,” Ishita says like that’s the last thing she wants to call me. “Then, I guess … you should call me Ishu.”
“Cute.” My smile widens. Ishita is definitely not an Ishu.
“Shut the fuck up.” Ishita rolls her eyes, but I can see the corners of her lips twitching with her attempts to bite back a smile. “It’s what my family calls me, okay?”