Page 57 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

“You literally said, fine then, watch.”

“That was…that was—” I said. “You’re twisting my words!”

“I’m repeating them verbatim.”

We were shouting now, face to face, and close enough that I could see the flecks of silver in his gray eyes, could smell his cologne mixed with chlorine.

“You’re impossible!”

“You’re infuriating!”

“I hate you!”

“The feeling’s mutual, Sharma!”

The tension shifted, and anger bled into something familiar, my heart rate increased.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, and my stomach growled.

The moment shattered as I pursed my lips.

Liam blinked and stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the door. “I should have fed you before kidnapping you. That’s like... rule one of kidnapping.”

“You have rules?” I asked, letting him drag me wherever he went. I glanced at our entwined hands and smiled. We were shouting at each other seconds ago.

“I’m making them up as I go.”

Despite everything, I laughed.

18

LIAM IS EATING DEEPIKA

DEEPIKA

The brunch was at Ethan and Kiara’s home in the Hills. It was one of those sprawling Spanish-style houses with terracotta tiles and bougainvillea climbing the walls. The place felt lived-in despite being expensive, with family photos on every surface and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen.

Indian aunties bustled around in bright saris, rearranging flower arrangements and debating cake flavors with the intensity of United Nations peace negotiations. Uncles congregated on the patio, drinking masala chai and arguing about cricket while kids ran through the house, shrieking.

It was complete chaos, yet it felt just like home.

I had arrived early to help Kiara and Liam had sent a driver since my convertible was still parked at my old apartment, gathering dust.

“Deepika!” My mother materialized the moment I stepped inside, pulling me into a hug that smelled like sandalwood and the coconut oil she had worn my entire childhood. “You’re so skinny! Are you eating three meals a day? You need to eat more, beta.”

“I’m eating, Mama,” I said with a smile.

“Not enough.” She pulled back, examining my face with the critical eye of someone who easily looked through me. “That boy is feeding you, yes?”

That boy. Liam.

She hadn’t accepted the engagement at first and called me five times demanding to know if I was ‘doing this to spite Diya’ and if I had ‘lost my mind completely.’

But when I finally brought up Diya and Yash and how everyone had expected me to just accept their relationship, to be happy for them, Mom had gone quiet. Then she finally agreed and said, “Fine. If you’re happy, I’m happy. But I’m watching him. He seems very American.”

“Mom, he’s an Olympic gold medalist.”