Page 64 of The Bad Boyfriend Curse
She doesn’t have to say it. I know she means to not meet up with Noah. But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREENoah’s First Brush with Fame
On Friday night, everything is set. Yesterday, I called Sadie immediately after dinner, and she gave me the all-clear to use her grandparents’ house again. Noah’s never had Indian food before, so for dinner I place a big order from an Indian restaurant. I get samosa chaat, biryani, mango lassi, and gulab jamun. Once it’s delivered to Jason’s, I walk it all to Sadie’s grandparents’. Noah is waiting at the side of the house with his brother’s bike again, and when he sees me walking up the street, his face breaks out into a smile, and he rushes to help me bring the bags inside.
I divide the food onto two plates, and the lassi into two glasses. We eat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen.
“Oh, wow,” Noah says after taking a bite of the biryani. “Where has this been all my life? It’s amazing!”
I smile. It is delicious. The biryani rice is fragrant with spices but not too much heat, with tender chicken and potatoes dotted through it. The lassi is thick with a fresh mango flavor accentuated with warming cardamom. And the samosa chaat—one of my all-time favorite dishes—is perfect. It’s two crispy potato samosas topped with chutney, sweetened yogurt, onions, tomatoes, and herbs. I knew Noah would love it, sincehe loves bold flavors. “I don’t get how you haven’t tried Indian. There is more than one Indian restaurant in Cherrybridge.”
He shrugs. “We don’t eat at restaurants much. My dad’s not very adventurous. Clara gives me Filipino food whenever she makes some. When Dad and I went to the city for a campus tour of TMU, I wanted to try this Thai place nearby that I’d read about, but my dad refused.” He makes a face, and his voice drops to a monotone. “We went to Popeyes instead.”
I smile. “Salad King, right? It’s one of my favorite restaurants in Toronto. I’ll take you next…” No one knows where Noah will be next year. He’s hoping to get into a college program in Toronto starting in January, but there’s no guarantee. And actually, I don’t know whereI’llbe in September either. I don’t want to be in Cherrybridge, but I might not have a choice.
I think Noah is reading my thoughts, because he takes ahold of my hand and smiles when my eyes meet his. “We’ll go together one day. I’m sure of it. I want to go to all the places we talked about.” He pauses, thinking. “You know, I wasn’t that excited to move to Toronto before I met you. I didn’t think I’d like living downtown. All people talk about is how snobby Toronto is. How everyone there thinks they’re better than everyone else in the country. But now…” He looks down shyly, and I can see that the tops of his ears are pink. “Now, after hearing the way you talk about Toronto, all I can think of is how much I want to see the city through your eyes.” He chuckles dryly, his smile dropping. “Now, when I’m not even going anymore.”
“Noah, if you want to go, we’ll figure out how you can. You got a freaking full-ride scholarship to a university. You havethe skills. We just have to find the perfect place for you.”
He nods, quiet for a moment as he searches my face.
“What?”
“You and Clara are the only ones who actually believe that I can do it.”
I smile. “I told you; I got your back.” I look at the empty containers of food. I’m going to have to bring them back home with me, so Mom thinks I ate there. I’m not sure she’s going to believe that I ate a whole biryani and samosa chaat alone, but I’ll deal with that later.
“C’mon,” I say, getting up. “Let’s clean up, then get back to the college spreadsheet. Let’s get you to Toronto.”
We’re on the couch, and I’ve made a new sheet on Noah’s college-options spreadsheet calledFinal Choices and Application Requirements. We’ve narrowed his options down to three community college programs in Toronto. But the admission requirements for each of them are quite different. We’re about halfway through each school’s requirements when I get a text from Keeley.
Keeley: I take it you haven’t seen my Instagram today. Or my TikTok.
Meera: no i haven’t really been on socials
Keeley: Check it out. Your boyfriend’s popular. 3k likes on Insta.
I frown, not knowing what Noah has to do with Keeley’s Instagram. Then I remember. The song. She must have posted her duet. I really, really want to see what she’s done, but I’m not sure I want to look at it in front of Noah. I haven’t told him that I sent that video to Keeley yet.
I squeeze my lips together.
“What?” he says.
“I… Don’t be mad… but remember my friend Keeley? The piano player? Well, I sent her that video of you singing that song at the park a few weeks ago.”
Noah doesn’t look mad, just confused. A good sign. “Okay, and… she hated it?”
I shake my head. “No, she loved it.” At that, Noah breaks into a proud smile, rubbing the back of his neck at the compliment. “Keeley has these social media accounts for her music where she posts piano accompaniment and sings harmony to songs, and she—”
His eyes widen, but not in a good way. Yeah, he’s not happy about this. “She posted my song?”
Oh. I screwed up. I wince. “She just texted that I should check out her feed.”
He stares at me for several long seconds. I shouldn’t have done this without asking him. “Show me,” he finally says.
I open the app on my phone and go to Keeley’s piano account. Keeley’s caption isDuet with my best friend’s boyfriend…
After putting the volume way up on the phone, I slide closer to Noah so we can watch it at the same time.
