Page 42 of The Love Match

Although disappointment eddies through me at the thought of Nayim being too busy to walk me home for the first time since we met, I rally up a smile, accepting the ring of keys Mr. Tahir holds out. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“Just don’t be late,” he scolds.

When I salute, he snorts and waves me away.

It ends up being a sleepy day at Chai Ho. After thelunch rush, Dani FaceTimes a paint-splattered Ximena, who volunteered to help restore the old Ivanhoe Mill Wheelhouse so it could once again become a hub for local artists, musicians, and writers. The four of us chat, with me catching them all up on what’s been going on with Harun.

“I know you don’tlike himlike him,” Dalia says, as we swipe through some Snaps Harun sent me of Rabeardranath riding around on a Roomba, captionedKaiju attack, “but it’s cute, isn’t it? How close you’ve gotten? I think you text him more than us these days.”

She gusts a dreamy sigh, while I huff, “No way. He’s just trying to convince me to come feed his lizard flies or whatever. As if.”

I pointedly ignore the memory of Harun correcting me:bearded dragon.

“Come on, Zar.” Dani smirks like she can read my mind. “Is it possible not to catch feelings for a hot guy who’s taking you out on romantic dates every week?”

“Romantic?” I squawk, casting a nervous glance at the closed kitchen door. “The two of us are friends. We shook on it and everything. Plus, you don’t even like guys, Dan.”

“Maybe not, but I wouldn’t say no to free food,” she replies, then spins away, laughing, to dodge the dish towel I snap in her direction, still clutching her phone.

Ximena observes our antics over steepled fingers through its screen, the rusted sign of the wheelhouse visible above her curly bun. “That’s adorable. Baby’s first boyfriend.”

“I amnota baby and Harun isn’t my boyfriend.” Crossing my arms, I sulk exactly like a baby might. “This is just something we have to do. We’re like Batman and Superman when they had to team up to defeat that axe-headed dude in that never-ending movie Dani made us watch.”

“Did Bats and Supes make out?” Ximena asks. “I don’t remember that part.”

Dani snickers. “It probably would have been a lot more exciting if they did.”

“But thenwemight have kissed less,” Ximena points out.

“Very true,” her girlfriend agrees sagely.

I pout until Dalia says, “Okay, let’s not bully poor Zahra. Plenty of people are friends without ever falling in love. I know that better than most.”

“Thank you,”I tell her.

Her smile grows impish. “Plus, Zahra alreadyhasa Prince Charming, so she doesn’t need to kiss any frogs.”

“Ooooooh,” Dani and Ximena say in sync.

Them being so stinking adorable and happy together rubs salt in the wounds of my own complicated love life… if I can even call fake-dating one boy while walking home with another a love life, since Harun and I are comrades in arms and Nayim hasn’t said a word about wanting to be more than my nightly bodyguard.

“Argh! This is why I need new friends!”

The girls giggle but take mercy on me and let the matter go before Mr. Tahir or Nayim overhear. Or at least, Ihopeneitherhave overheard. Nayim and I met at the pass-through window of the shop a few times today, but he seemed distracted and unlike his normal affable self. I’d rather he not hear any jokes about my nonexistent feelings for Harun and misunderstand.

Or worse. If I discover he doesn’t actually care what I do, I don’t know that I could show my face at the tea shop ever again.

The rest of our shift ticks by without us getting much of a chance to talk. Afterward, once the Tahirs have left for their party, accompanied by Ximena, who has shown up in a gorgeous lehenga Mr. and Mrs. Tahir gifted her for her last birthday, I find Nayim kneeling next to Thara the stray outside the shop, offering her a bowl of milk, a gym bag next to him.

“You can’t come with me today, love,” he says.

For a second, I think he means me—and my cheeks burn—until the cat issues a tragic mew. I squint between her, the bag, and his guarded expression. “Is that for your errands? Mr. Tahir mentioned you had something to do, so don’t worry if you can’t take me home. Paterson gets a bad rap, but I used to walk by myself all the time before you came along.”

His throat bobs and I follow the jerky motion of it, wondering why he seems so jittery. He looks good, in a plain white T-shirt and black skinny jeans, colorful rubber bands up and down one wrist, another tying his hair into a bun. He could easily be on the cover ofRolling Stoneas the front man of a band… if poor kids from Bangladesh got shots like that.

“Actually,” he says softly, “I was hoping you’d go with me.”

“Where?” I cock my head. “The gym?”

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