Page 19 of The Love Match

Whoa.

“Y-you swim?”

He cocks his head. “My mom didn’t put that on my biodata?”

“Oh, um, yeah, she did. I—forgot. That’s cool.” My voice pitches high enough to crack glass as I pivot away from theframe, bolstering my back against the bookcase and chanting my mental mantra ofastaghfirullahagain, even though it’s his fault for leaving it out like that.

A biodata is essentially a marriage résumé used to arrange matches. His mother sent one for me to peruse after the dinner at Gitanjali. It listed everything from his age, height, and blood type to all the clubs he’s participated in over the years. In addition to robotics, he was apparently on the swim team. But seeing him,er, in action is another thing entirely.

“Are you okay?” Harun asks, more suspicious than concerned.

Trying not to let on how much his stoicism aggravates me, I reply, “Yep. All good. I just… Is there a bathroom I can use? Out in the hall?”

He inclines his chin at another door I’d assumed was a closet. “Through there.”

I nod and click the lock behind me.

With the knob pressed into my spine, I survey the tile-covered room. It’s nothing like the one in our apartment. There’s not even a plastic bodna to clean up with next to the toilet, but the silver hose of a bidet instead. I notice four toothbrushes on the sink, each in its own glass cup. Who the hell needs so many toothbrushes? The glass-enclosed shower, meanwhile, is bigger than the one my entire family bickers over every morning.

Not that I want to think about him in the shower.

“I can’t do this,” I grouse to the Zahra in the mirror, releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Without even meaning to, I recall the new boy and how he actually appeared interested in getting to know me—how pleasant and funny he was despite being all alone in New Jersey, of all places. Compared to Nayim, Harun is so privileged, but seems utterly miserable.

Could I ever be with a guy who acts like talking to me is as painful as getting his nails torn out? Who looks at me as if I’m a homework assignment he’s forced to complete?

Sorry, Nanu. I tried my best.

After turning the spout on and off to sell my act, I dry my hands and throw open the door. Part of me wants to hunker down in his bathroom until the end of days, but the faster I get out, the faster dinner will be over, the faster we’ll leave, and the faster I can confess to my mother that I foresee no universe in which Harun and I are happy with each other.

I stumble forward, and to his credit, genuine concern furrows his brow. “Are you sure you’re all right? You wanna lie down or something?”

It’s the most he’s said to me in, well,ever. It would be sweet if I didn’t suspect he has a potentially fatal case of gingivitis.

“Areyouokay?”

He blinks at my rapid change of subject. “What?”

Cheeks aglow, with the pungent taste of foot in my mouth, I say, “Uh, it’s just, I noticed you havea lotof toothbrushes. Like, a lot, a lot.”

He shrugs. “One’s mine, one’s a spare, one’s to clean my models, and one’s for Rab.”

“Rab?” My gaze flits unwittingly toward a terrarium in the corner. Taped on the glass is a laminated label that readsRabeardranath Tagore. You’ve got to be kidding me. “Your lizard?”

A frown purses his full lips at my indignation. “He’s a bearded dragon, actually.”

My eyes rise heavenward. The longest conversation I’ve had with the guy my mother hopes I’ll marry is about the semantics of reptilian nomenclature. A guy who doesn’t read but has the audacity to name said reptile after one of the greatest Bengali poets of all time.

What sins did I commit to deserve this?

“He’s actually not so bad,” Harun says.

My head snaps in his direction. “Who?”

“Rab,” he replies. “Sometimes people are scared of him. My last—” He cuts himself off, but I can almost hear him swallow the word “girlfriend.” Oh, is Mr. Perfect Son maybe not-so-perfect, after all? “Uh, my mother still steers clear of his tank like she thinks he might jump out and go allJurassic Worldon her. But once you get to know him, he’s cute.”

I can’t keep the dubiousness off my face. To my surprise, Harun chuckles. It’s a deep, husky sound that sends a tingle up my spine and makes my whole body heat up.

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