The good thing, of course, is that Gino’s is almost empty. There’s just a couple in one corner that’s maybe getting a little too cozy, and a family of three that’s a little too loud, but nothing to disrupt Flávia’s fingers intertwined with mine, or her gaze boring into me.
“Is this … a date?” The question tumbles out of me before I can stop it, and I immediately feel myself warm.
Flávia grins. “If you want it to be.”
“You paid for my ice cream—that’s date-like behavior,” I mumble.
Flávia’s grin widens. “Right, but the hand-holding and ice-cream-sharing are just regular friend stuff.”
I kick her foot under the table and say, “I’ve never been on a date before. I don’t know what qualifies as a date.”
Flávia lets out a small laugh. “Yes, this is a date. And it’s definitely one of my best ones.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
She shakes her head, squeezing my fingers. “Come on, Nishat.” There’s a lot of reassurance in the way she says it—deep and husky—like it’s a secret meant only for me. A moment meant only for us.
After our ice cream—Belgian chocolate and Nutella—Flávia loops her elbow through mine and drags me toward the Ha’penny Bridge.
“I should be getting home,” I say, making absolutely no effort to untangle myself from her.
“Soon,” she reassures me. I don’t believe her and I don’t want to.
We climb the steps of the bridge. It’s a Sunday and there are still huge crowds of people passing by on each side. Flávia pulls us into the middle. On one side, we can see O’Connell Bridge, wide and sturdy, brimming with people and cars.
But Flávia turns the other way. Through the white railings of the Ha’penny Bridge we can see down the River Liffey, where the sunset is turning the city into a kaleidoscope.
“When I was little, my mom used to bring me here.” Flávia lets go of my hand and stands on her tiptoes so she can take in the sunset in all its glory. I watch the colors deflect off of her, illuminating her hair, her eyes. The curve of her lips. I want to kiss her, but it feels strange in this crowded place.
“She would tell me about São Paulo while the sun set.”
“Do you wish you could go there?” I ask tentatively.
She nods, though she doesn’t look at me. “Yeah, sometimes. It’s like I have this weird pull for a place that I barely know. I don’t understand it. My sister went two years ago with her boyfriend. She says maybe we can go together when she graduates from her Master’s next year.”
“That would be good, right?” I think about my own time in Bangladesh; I was lucky to grow up around family, learning about my culture and my language.
“Yeah …” Flávia finally catches my eye. “It’s just … it’s kind of nerve-wracking too.”
I slip my fingers through hers once more and press closer. The passers-by don’t care about the two girls paused in the middle of the street, or the orange glow the sun has cast over us all.
“I get it. I lived in Bangladesh for so many years but I still feel anxious about going back.”
Flávia smiles and turns back to the sky again. “First date watching the sunset. It’s kind of cheesy.”
“It’s sweet.”
She gives me a sheepish smile. “So … cheesy?”
“Romantic.” The words tumble out, braver than I feel.
Her smile widens. She pulls me closer. Suddenly, it’s like there is no one but us on this busy Dublin bridge as she presses her lips to mine.
29
IT’S OUR SECOND SHOWCASE ON FRIDAY. I WAKE UP EARLY to get into school and set everything up before everyone else gets there. After what happened during the first one, I can’t help how nervous I feel. I know I can’t be outed all over again, and I should be elated about the fact that Flávia and I are … something. But none of that takes away the heavy feeling in my chest.
“We’ll be at the school in the afternoon,” Ammu reminds me as I’m about to slip out the door. I’d almost forgotten parents were invited to today’s showcase; I hadn’t considered my parents might want to come. Especially considering we still had barely talked since I was outed to the whole school.
“How did you know?” I know it’s the wrong question to ask, but it tumbles out before I can stop it.
“We got a text.”
“Abbu is coming too?”
She nods and finally meets my eyes. She parts her lips for a moment, as if she’s about to say something.
“Nishat, I’m …” she begins. Her eyes bore into mine and I don’t know what to expect. “… good luck today,” she finishes weakly.
I wish Priti were here, but she’s probably still asleep. My whole body shakes on the way to school. Ammu wished me luck, but that doesn’t mean anything. Even if it is the most she’s said to me in a long time.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to entertain my parents in school today. I don’t know how I’m supposed to face them in the same vicinity as Flávia and pretend they haven’t rejected me.
I gulp down my anxiety and look straight ahead at the rain splattering the windshield of the bus. I just have to find a way to power through this day.
At school, I hang Flávia’s banner up on my stall, admiring the way it fits the whole aesthetic of my business perfectly. The colors are exactly the ones that set into your skin after henna dries off.
Chaewon and Jess come around holding a box of supplies as I’m setting out my henna tubes and design book on the table in front of me.
“Whoa, nice banner,” Jess comments, nodding at it admiringly. “You did it yourself?”
“Please.” I roll my eyes, because Jess should definitely know better than that.
“Priti?” Chaewon asks, taking the banner in admiringly.
I wonder for a moment how Chaewon and Jess would take it if I told them it was Flávia. What exactly they would think of that. But I just shake my head and change the topic.
“Shouldn’t you two be at your stall, getting ready? It’s a big showcase. Are your parents coming?”
Chaewon nods her head excitedly, like she can’t wait for her parents to show up. “My mom is so excited that people at school like the stuff we’re selling. She says it’s big in Korea but she didn’t think kids here would like it too.” She grins so wide that I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt her lips.
“Anyway, we’re here to help you!” Jess dramatically sets down the box she’s carrying on the table. “We brought over some stuff to help you out with your stall.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Jess shrugs. “I mean, you’re on your own here and …”
“… it’s kind of our fault,” Chaewon finishes with a sheepish smile.
“We had different creative visions,” is all I say, before digging into the box. It’s full of fairy lights and colorful crepe paper. “Thanks.”
Jess and Chaewon help me finish setting up, stringing up fairy lights, and spreading the crepe paper around until the booth looks a little magical.