Page 73 of If I Loved You Less
“Got it,” he says. He leaves, his back stiff. Naadia turns to me, eyebrows raised.
“Don’t look at me,” I say, avoiding her gaze. “Make the chai.”
“Okie dokie,” she sing-songs, hip-checking me as she passes. I hip-check her back.
I have no idea what is going on, but it would help if my heart would stop beating so fast. I feel like my ribs might actually break. I quickly scoop the cookie dough out into balls and roll them in coconut flakes, setting them to bake as Naadia cooks the chai.
I can feel her watching me.
“No lasan?” she asks hopefully. I make a face. What sane person puts ginger in their tea?
“I am not nearly as depraved as you are.”
“Boo, you suck.”
When the chai is done, Naadia helps me bring all the food out, since the weather is so lovely. Shanzay and Sadaf help, too, and we set everything up on the outdoor dining table, the food under the shade of the umbrella.
Everything is a massive hit. I receive many compliments, much to Fawad’s chagrin, I am sure, as Rizwan fawns over me.
After we eat, I avoid the boys, feeling a little unhinged, and instead sit with Naadia and Sadaf. We lounge on the outdoor sofas, taking off our sandals and pulling our feet up.
Shanzay is with us, as well, but she is frighteningly quiet, probably due to Jasmine and Emad feeding each other and being generally disgusting.
I’m glad Sadaf is here to regale us with stories from work. She’s a speech therapist.
“My boss slept with the secretary, isn't that awful?” she tells us.
“Of course it is!” Naadia balks. “If my husband were to have an affair, I'd hope he’d be more original than sleeping with thesecretary.”
Asif makes the mistake of walking by just then.
“Asif!” Naadia calls him over. I try to motion for him to flee, but he does not see.
“Yes, angel?” he asks.
“If you were to hypothetically have an affair, you wouldn't sleep with your secretary, would you?” she asks, tone innocuous. “I’d hate to think you were a cliche.”
“It would actually be the worst blow,” Sadaf added, biting into a cookie, “to find you married a cliche.”
“Exactly,” Naadia agrees. “You get me.”
Asif looks between us girls, panic in his eyes. “I’m ... sensing this is a trick question,” he says.
I discreetly call his phone, and he holds it up when it rings. “Gotta answer this.” He bolts.
We all laugh.
“I like to keep him on his toes,” Naadia confides.
“Men are always best kept on their toes,” Sadaf agrees, all bravado.
“Bari ai,” Naadia says, smacking her. She snorts. “You’ve had a crush on the same boy for years and have accomplished approximately nothing.”
Sadaf chokes on her lemonade. “My God, don’t attack me.” She presses a hand to her heart. “I admire from afar. Besides, what can I do if he lives in California?”
“He does visit often to see his sister,” Naadia sing-songs. They’re talking about Ahsen Paracha, Zahra’s older brother, and the second half of Sadaf’s long-timewill they, won’t they?
“Didn’t he stay here for an entire month that one time, after you graduated?” I ask. “Did anything substantial happen then?”
