Page 69 of Rani Deshpande Takes the Wheel
“It is sweet,” I say. “Believe it or not, Steve has started to grow on me.”
Simran claps her hands, excited. I was surprised by it too, but despite his childish personality, on full display at the fair, his devotion for Simran is clear, which is what counts most. While he might not be the person I would select for my best friend, I can’t find anything objectionable.
“I think he and Kush hit it off,” I say. “Shockingly.”
“I know,” Simran says, crunching on a chip. “They’re Spotify friends now.”
I laugh; this is news to me. “Speaking of Kush,” I say. I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I kind of have some news.”
I fill Simran in on this afternoon’s copy room confessions. Right before dinner, he texted me to confirm plans for a final drive Wednesday after work. I’m anticipating a more in-depth discussion about our relationship after practice.
Which is what I’m hoping to get Simran’s advice on. Her eyes widen as I speak. She rests her fork down on her plate once I finish.
“Rani,” she says finally. “What are you doing?”
My brows crinkle. This is very much not the reaction I was anticipating. “What do you mean?”
“Frank is literally a better option than Kush,” she says.
“Please,” I exclaim. “He broke my ankle.”
“Twisted,” she corrects. “And you should really keep your shoes tied.” I glare and she goes on. “Okay, I’m obviously exaggerating,” she says. “But come on. I thought we agreed this was a bad idea.”
I cross my arms on the table. “Before,” I say. “I feel differently now.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You feel differently about how he behaved with his ex?” I draw back at this, unable to retort, and she continues. “Or how he behaved with you? Remember how you felt after the party?”
“I remember,” I say. “And he apologized.”
She changes tack. “What about Michael and the girls?” she asks.
I blink. “They’d come around,” I say, though I sound unsure even to my own ears.
“Or the fact that he’s so embedded in your life because of your moms?” She purses her lips. “So if things go wrong, and theywillgo wrong, you can’t catch a break.” I press my mouth closed, and Simran heaves a sigh. “I’m not trying to be alarmist,” she says. “But it’s so messy with Kush. The risk just isn’t worth it.” She takes a beat. “Frank, on the other hand—”
“God,” I say, well and truly irked now. “Will you quit it about Frank? Frank is never going to happen.”
She tries for a joke to lighten the mood. “What, you don’t want to double-date?” I narrow my eyes at her, and she continues. “I get it, basketball was a huge miss,” she says. “But seriously, you never know what people are going through, it can’t hurt to give it another go.”
“It could,” I say. “He might break my arm next time.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, he texted to ask about your ankle, didn’t he?”
He did, but I’d shared the screenshot with Simran so she could clown him, not endorse him. “Simran, I’m generally very grateful for your counsel, but this is shockingly bad advice.”
It’s her turn to glare at me. “Fine, forget Frank, I honestly couldn’t care less about Frank.” She huffs. “I just want you to get your mind off Kush. I think he’s the wrong move, Rani.”
My mouth forms a line. “Yeah,” I say. “You’ve made that clear.”
“There’s better for you out there,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed giving him a hard time at the fair and everything, but things with Kush are far too complicated. You’ll regret this.”
There’s a degree of condescension lacing her tone that grates. “And Steve isn’t complicated?” I return.
She furrows her brows. “Not nearly,” she says. “And I still took all summer to deliberate.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think you have a leg to stand on here,” I say.
“Rani,” she says. “I’m looking out for you. I don’t want to see you hurt. You’re not thinking this through.”
