“Jess helped me with the design and we even set up a website. And your sister says your dad will let you use his restaurant again.” There’s this bright gleam of hope in Flávia’s eyes that I’m not sure I understand.

“My business kind of failed miserably last time,” I say. “I’m not—”

“But you like doing it. Love it, actually.” She says it like it’s a fact. “Your sister thinks so. So do your friends. And last time things went up in flames because of us.”

“But—”

“You’re really talented, Nishat.” Flávia leans forward and cups my face with her hands. I feel myself flush. Feel the bloom of warmth in my chest. “And everyone should see that.”

“I do still have leftover henna tubes,” I admit.

“And you have an entire catalog of original henna designs.”

I think of the design book collecting dust in the back of my bookshelf.

“Maybe,” I say finally.

It must be enough for Flávia, because she leans forward and presses her lips to mine. But it’s such a brief kiss that when she pulls away I’m still leaning into her and nearly topple over.

She’s too busy digging into her schoolbag to even notice. For a second, I’m afraid she’s going to pull out her French book and insist that we get serious about school. But she pulls out something totally unexpected—a tube of henna.

She lays it on the table in front of us and looks at me with her dimpled smile. “Okay. I’m ready for a Nishat original.”

“Flávia.”

“Please?” She looks at me with big, round puppy-dog eyes, and it’s not like I can say no to those.

I grab hold of the henna tube and begin to squeeze a pattern into Flávia’s palm while she beams at me as if this is the best day of her life. It feels kind of surreal: The warmth of her hand. The tenderness of her gaze. The way the setting sun illuminates her face.

The fact that I’m weaving my very culture into her skin.

This is one of those moments that I want to bottle up and keep with me forever. Not because it’s extraordinary, or because it’s the kind of thing you would find in a Bollywood movie.

But because it’s the kind of moment I could never have dreamed of having in a million years.

acknowledgments

A BOOK IS ONLY AS GOOD AS ALL OF THE PEOPLE WHO come together to make it into a reality, and I feel lucky to have many incredible people in my corner.

Thank you to my amazing agent, Uwe Stender, for believing in me and this story, and for your endless enthusiasm and support.