From Twinkle, with Love
Page 54
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“Wait here.” Before I could protest, Sahil had left the room, closing the door behind him.
I sagged back against the chair and looked around his room. Was this a dumb idea? Why had I come here? He’d already asked for space. … Would he think I was being disrespectful of his wishes? He wasn’t even fully looking at me. Besides, did guys even think things like this were romantic?? “Great, Twinkle. Maybe you should’ve asked yourself these questions before you played Tarzan outside his place.”
“Hmm?” Sahil asked, bustling back into the room with a bowl of water and bandages.
“N-nothing. Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”
“I insist,” he said, kneeling before me and setting all of his first aid things on the floor.
We sat in silence as he washed my cut with soapy water and a washcloth, one hand grabbing the back of my ankle to raise my leg up. I tried not to concentrate on the feeling of his breath, light and warm, on my leg, or his fingers pressing on my bare skin. I’d missed his touch. I’d missed … just about everything. He put on some antibacterial ointment and then a big Band-Aid over the scrape.
“There,” he said, lowering my leg gently. “That should feel better.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, feeling suddenly like I might cry. I just wanted him to smile at me. I just wanted some hint of the things we’d shared with each other, that was all. I felt physically cold.
“Sure.” He set the water on his desk and then went to sit on his bed so he was facing me. He was dressed in this plain white T-shirt and gray sweats, but he still managed to look heart-stoppingly perfect somehow.
“Hi,” he said after a moment of silence, the expression in his eyes inscrutable.
I felt suddenly very shy. “Hi.”
“You did really well tonight.”
“We did.” I paused, rallying my ever-dwindling reserves of courage. I could do this. I had to do this, or I’d kick myself for the rest of my life. “But … that’s not what I’m here to talk about.”
Sahil’s face went still. “It’s not?”
I shook my head. Taking a deep breath, I went to sit by him on the bed. “Sahil, I … I’m so incredibly sorry I hurt you. That was the last thing I wanted to do, I promise.” I forced myself to keep looking into his eyes even when I wanted to look away because I felt so guilty for how I’d hurt him. “I know I kept the whole N e-mail thing from you, and that was wrong. The thing was … I was so confused. I was falling for you, but in my head, I’d built up this whole thing of how Neil was the one I should be with. How I wanted to give it a shot.” Sahil’s face fell, and I hurried to continue. “Mostly because I felt like being with someone like Neil would elevate who I was or something. Like it would show the world—and me—that I was finally visible. Make me special for the first time in my life.”
Sahil shook his head. “You are special, Twinkle. And you’ve always been visible. You’ve shined the brightest in any room. To me, anyway.”
I smiled and tears blurred everything. By now I knew this was true. Sahil saw me; he’d always seen me. “You’re one of my best friends, Sahil. When I was with you, I didn’t even think about Neil. I saw only you, and you were—you were more than enough. I don’t want this to end. I feel like we … we belong together, and I can’t imagine never holding your hand or laughing with you … or—or kissing y—”
Sahil’s hands were suddenly around my face, his body pressing into my body as he lowered his mouth to mine, his lips devouring my lips hungrily, his stubble scraping against my skin in the most delicious way. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed myself even closer, gripping him tightly, feeling his body heat completely envelop me.
When we finally pulled apart, panting, he smiled down at me, his hand drawing a strand of hair off my face. “You never have to imagine that again. Okay?”
My arms around his waist tightened. “Really?” I asked. “You forgive me?”
He kissed me gently on the eyelids, on the nose, on the earlobe. “Really. After you explained how it all played out for you, it dawned on me that the hang-up was mine, not yours. I was the one who needed to move past Neil’s shadow. I was still feeling inferior to him, and …” He paused and shook his head. “That’s something I need to work on. But you know what?”
I shook my head.
“The movie helped me so much. Seeing all those people in that auditorium, taking in a movie I’d helped with in some way. …” He trailed off, his eyes far away. “I have a lot to offer too. I don’t need to compare myself to my brother all the time. I may not be talented in all the ways he’s talented, and that’s okay. We’re two different people.”
I stroked his cheek lightly. “Yeah. And I adore the person you are.”
Sahil grinned and pulled me closer. “Good. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Perfect. Because I have universes I want to explore, Sahil Roy. And I want you to be my partner through all of it.”
He looked deep into my soul with those liquid brown eyes of his. “Twinkle Mehra, it would be my privilege.”
And then we kissed again.
June 28, 5:13 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Dear Ms. Mehra,
We found a clip of the movie your friend Preston “Skid” Matthews uploaded to YouTube. The Colorado Arts Organization was very impressed by the care and substance you poured into the film, and we wondered if you’d be interested in coming on our radio station to talk to our viewers. We think they’d be particularly interested in what your journey as a young female filmmaker has been like so far. Of course, we will compensate you for your time. Please have your agent or representative contact us at the information below.
Sincerely,
Melanie Stone
New Artists Division
Colorado Arts Organization
719-555-5655
June 28, 6:02 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Dear Twinkle Mehra,
Your movie caught our attention here at WKBR Colorado Springs. We would like to invite you to our show to talk to our audience about what led you to make this movie, and the message you were trying to convey.
If you’re interested, please e-mail us back or call us at your earliest convenience.
Thank you,
Richard Wells
WKBR Production Assistant
719-555-7889
June 28, 8:44 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hi, Twinkle!
It was fantastic to see your video from the festival at your school. Here at Just Sixteen magazine, we’re always looking for new talent, and yours shines! We would love for you to write an article, 800–1,000 words, about what led to you taking the initiative to direct a movie for the festival. We’d love something personal and fun!
If you’re interested, please e-mail us back. Compensation will be about $1/word. We hope to be working with you soon!
Sincerely,
Jamie Auburn
Arts Editor
Just Sixteen magazine
212-555-4321
Twenty-Five
Sunday, June 28
My room
Dear Twinkle Mehra of the future, Hold on to this moment. You’ll want to remember how you feel. You’ll want to remember every tiny detail.
Right now you have eighty-eight e-mails in your in-box, all from people congratulating you on a job well done or people wanting to have you on to their shows or magazines or papers—people who want to hear what you have to say. People who think your thoughts are worthwhile. Your YouTube subscriber count is at three hundred and sixteen, and growing. Only a very small percentage are porn bots, and Dadi has promised she did not make any more accounts.
Just when you were still reeling from all the admiring words and gushing praise, unable to believe they were all for you, for your art, which you’ve worked at so tirelessly for so long, the doorbell rang. It was Sahil, who grinned gleefully and had you call your parents and Dadi into the living room.
When everyone was assembled, he handed you an e-mail he’d printed out, which is stapled below.
I sagged back against the chair and looked around his room. Was this a dumb idea? Why had I come here? He’d already asked for space. … Would he think I was being disrespectful of his wishes? He wasn’t even fully looking at me. Besides, did guys even think things like this were romantic?? “Great, Twinkle. Maybe you should’ve asked yourself these questions before you played Tarzan outside his place.”
“Hmm?” Sahil asked, bustling back into the room with a bowl of water and bandages.
“N-nothing. Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”
“I insist,” he said, kneeling before me and setting all of his first aid things on the floor.
We sat in silence as he washed my cut with soapy water and a washcloth, one hand grabbing the back of my ankle to raise my leg up. I tried not to concentrate on the feeling of his breath, light and warm, on my leg, or his fingers pressing on my bare skin. I’d missed his touch. I’d missed … just about everything. He put on some antibacterial ointment and then a big Band-Aid over the scrape.
“There,” he said, lowering my leg gently. “That should feel better.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, feeling suddenly like I might cry. I just wanted him to smile at me. I just wanted some hint of the things we’d shared with each other, that was all. I felt physically cold.
“Sure.” He set the water on his desk and then went to sit on his bed so he was facing me. He was dressed in this plain white T-shirt and gray sweats, but he still managed to look heart-stoppingly perfect somehow.
“Hi,” he said after a moment of silence, the expression in his eyes inscrutable.
I felt suddenly very shy. “Hi.”
“You did really well tonight.”
“We did.” I paused, rallying my ever-dwindling reserves of courage. I could do this. I had to do this, or I’d kick myself for the rest of my life. “But … that’s not what I’m here to talk about.”
Sahil’s face went still. “It’s not?”
I shook my head. Taking a deep breath, I went to sit by him on the bed. “Sahil, I … I’m so incredibly sorry I hurt you. That was the last thing I wanted to do, I promise.” I forced myself to keep looking into his eyes even when I wanted to look away because I felt so guilty for how I’d hurt him. “I know I kept the whole N e-mail thing from you, and that was wrong. The thing was … I was so confused. I was falling for you, but in my head, I’d built up this whole thing of how Neil was the one I should be with. How I wanted to give it a shot.” Sahil’s face fell, and I hurried to continue. “Mostly because I felt like being with someone like Neil would elevate who I was or something. Like it would show the world—and me—that I was finally visible. Make me special for the first time in my life.”
Sahil shook his head. “You are special, Twinkle. And you’ve always been visible. You’ve shined the brightest in any room. To me, anyway.”
I smiled and tears blurred everything. By now I knew this was true. Sahil saw me; he’d always seen me. “You’re one of my best friends, Sahil. When I was with you, I didn’t even think about Neil. I saw only you, and you were—you were more than enough. I don’t want this to end. I feel like we … we belong together, and I can’t imagine never holding your hand or laughing with you … or—or kissing y—”
Sahil’s hands were suddenly around my face, his body pressing into my body as he lowered his mouth to mine, his lips devouring my lips hungrily, his stubble scraping against my skin in the most delicious way. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed myself even closer, gripping him tightly, feeling his body heat completely envelop me.
When we finally pulled apart, panting, he smiled down at me, his hand drawing a strand of hair off my face. “You never have to imagine that again. Okay?”
My arms around his waist tightened. “Really?” I asked. “You forgive me?”
He kissed me gently on the eyelids, on the nose, on the earlobe. “Really. After you explained how it all played out for you, it dawned on me that the hang-up was mine, not yours. I was the one who needed to move past Neil’s shadow. I was still feeling inferior to him, and …” He paused and shook his head. “That’s something I need to work on. But you know what?”
I shook my head.
“The movie helped me so much. Seeing all those people in that auditorium, taking in a movie I’d helped with in some way. …” He trailed off, his eyes far away. “I have a lot to offer too. I don’t need to compare myself to my brother all the time. I may not be talented in all the ways he’s talented, and that’s okay. We’re two different people.”
I stroked his cheek lightly. “Yeah. And I adore the person you are.”
Sahil grinned and pulled me closer. “Good. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Perfect. Because I have universes I want to explore, Sahil Roy. And I want you to be my partner through all of it.”
He looked deep into my soul with those liquid brown eyes of his. “Twinkle Mehra, it would be my privilege.”
And then we kissed again.
June 28, 5:13 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Dear Ms. Mehra,
We found a clip of the movie your friend Preston “Skid” Matthews uploaded to YouTube. The Colorado Arts Organization was very impressed by the care and substance you poured into the film, and we wondered if you’d be interested in coming on our radio station to talk to our viewers. We think they’d be particularly interested in what your journey as a young female filmmaker has been like so far. Of course, we will compensate you for your time. Please have your agent or representative contact us at the information below.
Sincerely,
Melanie Stone
New Artists Division
Colorado Arts Organization
719-555-5655
June 28, 6:02 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Dear Twinkle Mehra,
Your movie caught our attention here at WKBR Colorado Springs. We would like to invite you to our show to talk to our audience about what led you to make this movie, and the message you were trying to convey.
If you’re interested, please e-mail us back or call us at your earliest convenience.
Thank you,
Richard Wells
WKBR Production Assistant
719-555-7889
June 28, 8:44 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hi, Twinkle!
It was fantastic to see your video from the festival at your school. Here at Just Sixteen magazine, we’re always looking for new talent, and yours shines! We would love for you to write an article, 800–1,000 words, about what led to you taking the initiative to direct a movie for the festival. We’d love something personal and fun!
If you’re interested, please e-mail us back. Compensation will be about $1/word. We hope to be working with you soon!
Sincerely,
Jamie Auburn
Arts Editor
Just Sixteen magazine
212-555-4321
Twenty-Five
Sunday, June 28
My room
Dear Twinkle Mehra of the future, Hold on to this moment. You’ll want to remember how you feel. You’ll want to remember every tiny detail.
Right now you have eighty-eight e-mails in your in-box, all from people congratulating you on a job well done or people wanting to have you on to their shows or magazines or papers—people who want to hear what you have to say. People who think your thoughts are worthwhile. Your YouTube subscriber count is at three hundred and sixteen, and growing. Only a very small percentage are porn bots, and Dadi has promised she did not make any more accounts.
Just when you were still reeling from all the admiring words and gushing praise, unable to believe they were all for you, for your art, which you’ve worked at so tirelessly for so long, the doorbell rang. It was Sahil, who grinned gleefully and had you call your parents and Dadi into the living room.
When everyone was assembled, he handed you an e-mail he’d printed out, which is stapled below.
