‘Wait, stop,’ Eram interrupted her. He didn’t read a lot and it was mostly fast-paced paperbacks, so he wasn’t going to let an opportunity to impress Gehna slip by. ‘I know that name. I’ve read Love in the Time of Cholera. That guy in the book. You think it’s possible for someone to be in love with a person their whole life without ever speaking of it?’

Gehna was half-fond of the Nobel Laureate’s writings; she loved the realism, it was the magic part she had trouble with. ‘Rubbish! Please, okay, the guy had sex with dozens of women—all of whom he claimed to love, mind you—while at the same time he always remained faithful to this one pure love, this woman he didn’t declare himself to because he wanted her to be happy? I’m not convinced. People aren’t that selfless. Marquez is so full of it.’

In the silence that followed—as it usually does after the subject of love comes up—Gehna studied the interior decor of the cafe, while Eram studied her. Boys always thought they were being subtle as dammit when they did this, of course, but Gehna knew he was looking. She let him do so until she abruptly remembered that she’d decided against a bra that evening. She did that sometimes because she had small breasts and could get away with it. It made her feel sexy. Suddenly sure that Eram could tell, Gehna experienced a horrible moment of self-consciousness before she took charge.

‘Go on,’ she said. ‘I know you want to.’

‘Want to what?’

Gehna jerked her thumb discreetly towards a neighbouring table where four kids were passing a hookah around and shrieking with laughter. One of them, a chubby girl in a lemon tank top, had her back to them. Her acid-washed denims, never meant to be worn without a belt, had slid too far down, exposing the top of her buttocks.

Eram scanned the group and then leaned conspiratorially across the table towards Gehna. ‘What am I looking at, exactly?’ he stage-whispered.

‘Don’t even tell me you weren’t checking out that fine ass, mister,’ she said. ‘That’s all you guys care about: butts and boobs.’

‘Well, no,’ Eram counted off on his fingers. ‘There’s also eyes, thighs, hips, lips, shoulders and the nape of the neck. But mostly, yes, as you so elegantly put it, boobs.’

He shot a quick look at butt-crack girl and Gehna giggled. ‘Oh, you poor boy. Such a nice ass and you can’t even stare because you’re sitting here with me.’

Eram grinned at her. That smile is dope, thought Gehna. When it’s for real, his eyes dance.

‘Hey, can I ask you something?’ he asked.

‘Shoot.’

‘How did it happen?’

‘Aargh,’ Gehna slammed her fist down on the table, making the spice rack jump. ‘I knew it. I just knew . . .’ She took a deep breath.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, upset you. Forget I said anything,’ Eram said. He looked so crestfallen that Gehna almost laughed out loud.