Mission Love

Thirty- Six

Recap: I was about to...kiss him?

For the next few days, I did my absolute best to avoid any and all situations that could lead to another incident. Which meant keeping a safe, totally reasonable distance from Ryan, keeping our conversations strictly neutral, and absolutely not thinking about—

No. Not going there!

But of course, the universe had other plans. Because now, here I was, standing in front of my luggage, debating if faking a sudden illness would get me out of this trip.

The faint hum of my mother’s voice filtered through the speaker as I shoved another kurta into my bag. She was rattling off a checklist of last-minute wedding details, none of which I could focus on because Ryan kept pacing in and out of my room, his brow furrowed, his questions flying faster than I could answer them.

"Aisha, I’m telling you, you’re going to forget something important," my mother’s voice screeched through the phone.

"I won’t forget anything, Maa," I said distractedly, cramming another blouse into the overstuffed luggage.

"You always say that! But you didn’t even bring one muffler last winter.  God forbid you actually listen to me for once."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I’ll pack everything I own, okay? Happy?"

"And don’t forget the bangles! Everyone will wear matching bangles for the haldi. And your father said to remind you about—"

I winced. Not this again.
"Mom, don’t bring him up right now, please. I’m still upset."

Before she could respond, Ryan’s head popped around the doorframe, holding up a plain black shirt with a skeptical look. Again!

"Do I need to pack something traditional for this thing?"

"Yes. You can’t just show up in business casual to a wedding," I said, barely sparing him a glance.

Can't afford it! Not when my heart was kinda acting weird.

He frowned. "Like what? A kurta?"

"Kurta. Or sherwani. Or both."

"Both?" His voice hit a pitch of disbelief.

"Yes, both," I snapped, shoving a pair of sandals in my luggage with unnecessary force.

"When's the flight? Did you book your tickets? You're gonna miss the ceremony—"

"Mom, I already told you I’ll be there before the mehendi ceremony."

"You better not try to skip this."
I scowled at the phone, and groaned lowly.

"No, I’m not skipping that just because—" I stopped mid-sentence, the words died on my tongue, when I felt Ryan's presence behind me. He was too close.

Not in an obvious way, but just enough that when he reached for something past me, his arm grazed mine. I ignored the way my pulse hiccuped. Nope. Not happening.

"Ryan, will you please stop hovering?"
I clicked my tongue, and grumbled.

Ryan huffed, lifting his hands in mock surrender before backing off.

"I’m not hovering, I’m just...—" he gestured vaguely at my luggage. "Looking."

I shot him a glare.

Through the phone, my mother made a noise suspiciously close to a giggle. "Who’s hovering?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"No one," I said quickly, still glaring at Ryan as he pretended to examine my almost packed stuff, nodded to himself and walked off.