Page 9 of Yours for the Season
Sameera was horrified. “She didn’t!”
Tom started laughing. “You should see your face!”
She punched his arm—a deceptively firm bicep, she noted—and he rubbed it, pretending it hurt. Again, her hand tingled from the contact, and from the change in his expression, she could tell he felt it, too. There was an immediate attraction that seemed to flare to life anytime they were in the same room.
Which was terrifying.
Maybe she should have taken her chances with Lubna Aunty and her twice-divorced son.
“Can I ask you something?” Tom asked, and Sameera nodded. “You said your mom assumed you were hiding me from them. Have you ... done that before?”
An image of Hunter flashed through her mind from the first day they met, at a campus party her senior year. He had been kind then, funny and charming and completely into her. Sort of like Tom was now.
“It’s a long, boring story, and it doesn’t end well,” she said.
Tom nodded, and though he seemed intrigued, she appreciated that he didn’t push. “Your family is pretty great,” he said instead, urging a reluctant smile to her lips. “I cater a lot of events, and I’ve seen it all. I knew I would like your mom when she shared her samosa recipe, and when your dad tried to convince me to assemble Japanese Gundam robots with him in the basement instead of cooking.”
“If you like random eccentricity and vigilante-level competence, you should meet my sister,” Sameera said.
“I’d like that,” Tom said, smiling. He was so nice, and his eyes were so friendly, and she wanted to run her hands through his short fade. Her heart was doing that strange somersault thing in her chest; she really didn’t need this distraction right now. Not until she was out of debt, and sure she wasn’t about to be fired from her job. And had figured out how to thaw her reckless, frozen heart.
Her phone pinged with a text from Bee.Are you and Yes Chef hooking up???
Sameera immediately flushed and turned away from Tom to reply.What are you talking about?
Her friend responded by posting a screenshot of the video Tom had uploaded to his Instagram account, followed by comments below.
Who is that? They have aVibe.
Tom Cooke has a girlfriend!
He’s dating a brown girl? Tom, I’m available! You can make me samosas any time!
She’s not that pretty. He could do better.
Sameera felt faint. Looking over her shoulder, Tom snorted.
“Don’t worry about those messages. A by-product of having so many followers. My agent says I should interact more with the commenters, but they seem really happy arguing among themselves.”
He seemed unconcerned about the allegations. “This doesn’t bother you?” she asked him.
Tom shrugged. “I know it’s not true. Are you worried your mom will see the video online and assume we’re a couple?”
The idea hadn’t even occurred to her until he’d said it, and she tried to dial down her panic. She texted Bee.My mom hired Tom to cater our Eid party. He made a quick video in our kitchen, with me and my brother. Nothing is going on.
Her friend responded instantly:Booo. Stop being a coward and kiss him already!
Sameera quickly flipped her phone over on the counter and turned back to the chai, which was now boiling vigorously. She turned the heat down and poured milk without measuring, more to keep her hands occupied while her brain scrambled.
Her mom didn’t spend a lot of time on Instagram, but her friends probably did. What if they came across Tom’s video and the comments, and sent them to her mother? She would never hear the end of it. She peeked at Tom, who had finished filling take-out containers for the guests and was now wiping down the counters, his forearms flexing. She forced herself to look away.
“Did you really cut your family off for years, like Esa said?” Tom asked, startling her out of her reverie. She flushed, wishing her little brother had kept his mouth shut.
“Sort of. Did your dad really cut you off because you dropped out of school?” she asked.
“I asked first,” Tom said, flashing a smile.
“It’s a long, complicated story—” she started.
