“Seriously?” Parvati lifted a brow. “I see it as another boring night where we watch everyone at the couples tables having fun and feeling sorry for us because we’re stuck with the drunk cousins, divorced uncles, and horny college dudes trying to get lucky.”
“You need to be more optimistic.” Zara pulled a small makeup mirror from her bag and checked her lipstick. “I see it as an opportunity to match up a few lonely souls and bring a little joy into their hearts or some loving into their beds. I made six matches last wedding season. I want to beat my record.”
“You’re a rishta auntie in the making.” Parvati rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “Why don’t you join their pool?”
“I’m not ready for the big time.” Joining the rishta auntie competition would be admitting that she truly had no intention of ever getting married, and there was a small part of her that couldn’t take that final step.
“Kamal will be happy to hear that you’re still available. He’s at our table.”
Zara bit back a groan. Kamal had been crushing on her since sixth grade when she’d made the ill-fated decision to give him a valentine because she’d heard through the family grapevine that he was struggling to make friends. “You’d better sit between us. He drank one watered-down shot of gin at the sangeet and told me I could feel free to ‘take advantage of him.’？” She punctuated the words with finger quotes. “Then he asked for ‘hugsies’ like his mom gives him at bedtime. I almost threw up all over his shoes. How unappealing is that? I can drink five shots of gin and still walk a straight line.”
“I thought you were going to say that the part about his mom was what curdled your stomach,” Parvati said.
“His mom is kinda hot, so I took that part as a compliment.”
Parvati tapped the bottom of the list. “There’s a last-minute addition to our table.”
“Who?” Curious, she squinted at the list, but Parvati quickly covered the handwritten name.
“The one and only—drumroll, please—Jay Dayaaaaaal!”
Zara stared at her friend aghast. “No.”
“Yes. I heard Stacy talking about it. Apparently, he usually sits with his mom, but she invited a plus-one at the last minute so he was banished to the singles table.”
Could this night get any worse?
Zara looked around for one of the tuxedo-clad waiters she’d seen carrying trays of champagne. Copious amounts of alcohol were going to be required to get through dinner. “This is going to mess up my plan to match up everyone at the table.” She heaved a sigh. “He’s too gorgeous. He’ll attract all the attention while he sits in smug silence thinking up ways not to have fun. The straight dudes are going to miss out.”
“Does this fatal attraction also extend to you or does Kamal stll have a chance?” Parvati grabbed two glasses of champagne from one of the passing waiters and they walked into the ballroom.
“Are you kidding me?” Zara’s face twisted in a scowl. “Kamal never stops talking. I can’t be with someone who talks as much as me. It’s stressful. Every time I open my mouth, I’m worried he’s going to interrupt me before I finish what I have to say. And when he is talking, I wonder when it will be my turn to talk. It’s different with quiet guys. I don’t have to worry. They’re good listeners because they only talk when they have something to say and not just for the sake of talking.”
Parvati spent a full ten seconds saying nothing while she adjusted her lehenga with her free hand, tightening the waist, smoothing the skirt, and fluffing the ruffle around the hem.
“What is it?” Zara narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong? Your lehenga is perfect. You also know you look stunning. So all this adjusting means you’ve got something to say that you don’t think I want to hear.”
“Jay isn’t a big talker.” Parvati lifted a brow. “He’s also hot with a capital H-O-T . . .”
“Don’t be silly.” Zara sipped her champagne, letting the sweet, fizzy liquid linger on her tongue. “He’s the last man I would ever want to be with. We have absolutely nothing in common. In fact, he’s my complete opposite.” He also wasn’t interested in her, as evidenced by his abrupt dismissal at the sangeet the other night. She hadn’t appreciated his sharp tone when she was just trying to help, especially after the moment they’d shared when he’d held her in his arms. So strong and steady. Safe. For a blissful few moments she’d felt a sense of calm. She should have known it wouldn’t last.