Their mouths found each other again, lips relearning how they fit together, tongues greedily exploring. Tanvi shifted on the table, and her arm connected with the plate Venkat had set there. It hit the floor with a loud clang, shattering the moment. She hopped off, mortified, and glanced at the mess of food all over.

Venkat touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

She nodded but kept her head down.

He tilted her chin so that she had no choice but to look at him. Her belly flipped. “I ruined our snack,” she blurted.

It wasn’t what she wanted to say at all, but with her heart crying out for him, it was the only thing she could.

Venkat laughed. “Tanvi,” he said, lips swollen and eyes half lidded, “I don’t care about that. All I want is you.”

And he pulled her back into his arms.

41

Tanvi nestled closer into the crook of Venkat’s arm and sipped her caramel cider as they approached the wrought-iron garden bench in front of the house. Someone had swept it clean of the red and gold maple leaves sprinkling the lawn, as glorious as ruby and topaz dreamstones, and just as ephemeral as the dreams they’d contain. Somehow, when she’d been distracted, autumn had settled in like a relative come to visit.

“The trees are on fire, but in a good way,” Venkat said. “You don’t get this in Nagalok.”

“It’s pretty magical.” Tanvi took another sip of her drink, savoring the sweet warmth. Being able to appreciate things again would never get old. So many colors, so many textures, so many sounds, so many foods to taste and smell—it was like the kaleidoscope she’d had as a kid, always shifting. Always something new to try.

The bench, which had seemed so big to her seven years ago, turned out to be just wide enough for two people. She wondered if this feeling of things not fitting right would ever go away. Did she even want it to? “Wanna sit?”

Venkat did, and Tanvi snuggled against him. “So you know,” she said as blithely as she could, “Nitya said something kind of stupid.”

He got that worried look that was so cute she couldn’t take it. “What’d she say?”

Handing him her cup, she bent to gather a spray of leaves and spread them into a fiery bouquet.

“It’s that bad?” The dread in his voice almost made her give up the game. Almost. “Do you still want to do this?”

“Well, Nitya’s expecting me. I think it would be rude not to show up, don’t you?”

Venkat’s worry changed to confusion, and Tanvi bit back her smile. She couldn’t imagine getting sick of that any more than she could imagine not loving hot drinks with shots of extra caramel or the brisk breeze on her temples.