10 Things I Hate About Pinky - Sandhya Menon Page 0,71

its butterfly habitat!”

Smiling, Pinky linked her arms with the both of theirs, her blood pumping fast and furiously, the way it did when she knew she was going to help with a cause and win. Behind them, DQ, finally awake, chirped happily.

CHAPTER 12 Pinky

The next night, after dinner, Pinky sat out on the deck with the lights out, looking up at the stars. The cicadas chirped and sang in the cool air, which held the tang of lake water. Sitting here felt as comfortable to her as sitting in her room back home in Atherton. Pinky couldn’t remember a summer when she hadn’t felt the warm wooden floorboards under her bare feet, when she hadn’t lain back in a deck chair and gazed up at the crystal-clear Cape Cod sky, knowing that sometimes home is more than one solitary place.

Everyone else was indoors or otherwise occupied—the adults were playing a game of poker, Dolly was at Cash’s (though her cover was that she was walking DQ, who was with her), and Samir was… well, Pinky didn’t know where he was. She was kind of avoiding him. That was the whole reason she was out on the porch right now under the cover of darkness.

She leaned back in the chaise lounge and closed her eyes, feeling the stillness of the night pressing down like a warm hand on her skin. Practice kissing Samir… Why had she responded the way she had? The wave of desire that had overtaken her had been incredible; she’d never felt a tsunami like that before. It was as if her body had been a dam, filled to bursting with wanting and lust. All it had taken was one touch from him and she’d opened the gates, letting it all out.

Cringing, she remembered how she’d told him she needed more practice sessions. Arrrgh. If she were him, she’d be totally turned off by the sheer desperation.

Except…

Pinky opened her eyes again, her thoughts churning, going over details she’d already gone over thousands of times in her mind. She remembered how he’d gazed at her for a long moment before asking her to practice kiss him. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t been into it too. Something about his kiss hadn’t felt very practice-like. In fact, it had felt pretty… genuine. It had felt like the real thing for him, too.

And the way he’d extolled her virtues to Gloria and Dolores and then volunteered to help her with the butterfly habitat, even though she knew going against authority must be anathema for him. It would be like Pinky wearing a T-shirt advertising a credit card company or something—totally out of character. And the heartfelt appreciation he’d shown for the one place that meant so much to her. That wasn’t something you did for someone you barely liked or considered a business acquaintance.

Pinky stared off into the darkness at the tree line, her pulse thumping at her throat. And what if Samir was developing feelings for her? What did that mean for her, for them?

Nothing, she told herself firmly. It meant nothing. It could never mean anything because they were completely different. What was she doing, fantasizing about a guy like Samir? They were too different. She’d spent her entire life thinking about who she wanted to be, and she’d very carefully realized this is exactly who she was, whether her mother liked it or approved of it or not: Pinky Kumar was, to her core, a wild and free spirit, a puff of dandelion seed on the wind, someone who would never, ever, ever be with a guy whose big dream was to become a corporate lawyer. A guy who made detailed notes in his planner, whose life was scheduled and organized down to the last minute. Because if she went out with someone like that, she may as well call herself Veena Kumar and begin wearing cardigans with pearl buttons.

She heard the sound of the French doors opening and called out, “Yeah, I’m out here, Dad.” He always got worried when he couldn’t see her for more than twenty minutes. She’d once overheard him telling someone that Pinky was like a toddler; the longer she was silent, the more worried you got about what she was up to.

“Hey.”

A wave of feeling rippled through her at the honeyed male voice. She turned to see Samir walking over to her in that casually confident way he had. “Oh.” She adjusted the hem of her shorts, which had ridden way up