Jiya twisted her long, black hair into a knot on top of her head, securing it there with a pale blue scrunchie. The weight of her mane immediately made the bundle droop to one side, but she left it perfectly imperfect and opened the window. When she knelt, the sound of her knees landing on the floor made Andrew battle a groan, but battle it he did. Her eyes were still betraying her shock at finding him half naked and he needed Jiya comfortable. Now. Needed her soothed and happy and with him.
At least like this. At a safe distance.
“Hey,” she called quietly into the night wind.
Andrew cleared the hunger from his throat. “How was your day?”
“Sucky. No one wants Indian food when it’s ninety-seven degrees outside.”
“Bad for you. Good for us.”
Her lips pressed together. “I’ll leave the leftovers on your stoop in the morning.”
It really shouldn’t have come as a shock to him that Jiya had finally gone on that date.
It should shock him even less that she’d stopped coming to breakfast at the Prince household every morning, as was their routine. He’d felt that shift between them that afternoon on the boardwalk. Things were different now. A line had been drawn and there was nothing he could do about it.
Jiya’s parents expected her to be married by now. She should be married by now. She was beautiful beyond words, smart, the funniest person he knew. Observant, sly, caring, a pragmatist that allowed for a dreamer streak. Hard working. Everything. The girl was every man’s dream come true. She had been his since moving to Long Beach from India when she was nine, trading the western state of Gujarat for their busy beach town.
That afternoon when she’d peeked through their shared backyard fence and invited Andrew, Jamie and Rory into her garage for a Coke was cemented in his memory. It had been an escape from another afternoon of adults screaming in the Prince household. Another afternoon of fear had turned into one of hope. Awe. Love.
Jiya had owned him since that day.
And with one hard decision, he’d lost his chance of maybe, just maybe, calling her his own someday. Don’t look back. Head down, move on. What happened can’t be undone.
Her date was too fresh to move on from, however. It had been arranged by Jiya’s parents and as far as Andrew knew, no second date had been scheduled, but that outcome provided zero comfort. Because there would be another. And another. The girl that held his pulpy, bloody heart in her hands would eventually find someone to marry, to settle down with. There would be no more goodnights after that. Only goodbyes.
Andrew could feel the inevitability of that breathing down his neck like a hunting dog.
Kneeling in the window and pretending everything was normal? Not an easy task. Passing up a single second in her presence would have been much harder.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked.
She scrunched her nose. “Are you sure I should come along? Don’t I need a penis to participate in a bachelor party? I’m going to feel out of place and derpy.”
“Jiya,” he scoffed. “You could never be derpy.”
“It’s a pity invite and you know it. You’re going to make fewer dick jokes if I’m there and I don’t want that for you, Andrew.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I want the dick jokes to be flowing.”
God, he was so in love with her, he wanted to rip his hair out by the roots. “When have we ever shied away from a dick joke when you’re around?”
“You do,” she said, brow knitting. “You’re too much of a gentleman to make them when I’m around.”
“How do you know I make them at all?”
“Do you?”
He could feel his own chagrin. “I live with two dudes. I work nights in the bar. Sometimes there’s no way around it.”
“See? I’m a dick joke hindrance to you.”
“What if I promise to make three…of those jokes tomorrow night. Minimum.”
She gasped. “You can’t even call them what they are.”
Andrew held a finger to his lips. A gentle reminder not to wake up her parents who slept on the opposite side of the house. “Three. Minimum. You’re coming.” He winked at her. “Besides, we got Jamie a stripper. You can’t miss that.”
Jiya’s mouth fell open. “Do you have a death wish? You can’t be Jamie’s best man from a gurney in the emergency room—and that’s where you’ll end up if Marcus finds out you got Jamie a stripper.”
“Guess you’ll have to come along and defend me.”
“I’ll be too busy watching the stripper!”
They both had to bury their faces in the crooks of their elbows so they wouldn’t laugh too loudly and wake up the neighborhood. A warm balm settled over Andrew. Things had changed after the date, but thankfully this nighttime custom was still in effect. For now. They couldn’t have moments like this forever, so he was going to enjoy them while he could. Collect them like quarters in a swear jar until he couldn’t fit any more. Or she stopped providing them.