A Beginner's Guide to the American West ✓

chapter forty-four

f o r t y - f o u r

*

I'm not ready. Oh, god, I am so not ready for this. My heart is about to flip-flop right out of my chest like a fish floundering on the deck of a boat, thudding so hard I can hear my pulse thrumming in my ears. My hands are clammy and I actually feel a bit sick, the threat of nausea lingering at the back of my throat and in the pit of my stomach at the thought of meeting Arjun's sister.

I know it's not that big a deal, in the grand scheme of things. But meeting new people is already nerve-inducing enough; meeting my very new boyfriend's older sister is terrifying. Like, I think I might have the nervous shits kind of terrifying.

We're in our hotel room right now, about to hop on a bus across town to meet Meera in a restaurant she chose, and I'm in the midst of a crisis about the clothes I packed. This was not a situation I anticipated when I put together old shorts and holey t-shirts: I have nothing remotely smart, nothing that screams I'm good for your brother so much as it screams I live on a beach and haven't been to a shop in five years.

Arjun, of course, looks incredible. He's in my favourite get-up of his, that billowy shirt and those tight shorts, somehow looking effortlessly put together in sandals, while I'm in a pair of denim shorts folded just above my knees, and a plain t-shirt. It's the only one without holes or a stain, and it's also the tightest.

When Arjun comes out of the bathroom, he looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my faded shorts before he steps across the room and plants a kiss on my lips. "Ready?"

"No."

"You look ready."

"I'm not smart enough. You look smart."

"Only because this has buttons," he says, pulling at the loose fabric of his linen shirt. "And we don't need to look smart – we're going to a casual restaurant to meet my sister. It's not like we're going to the Ritz for an interview or something. She's not going to care what you're wearing. I don't care what you're wearing, as long as you're comfortable and you're still happy to do this."

I nod, though my face must belie that, seeing as I feel like a cornered mouse and probably look much the same.

"Whatever you wear, it's only for the next couple of hours," he says, leaning in for another kiss. This time his lips catch my jaw, and he tucks in closer to kiss my neck, his hand dropping to my waist. "We're going to eat with Meera and it's going to be fine, and then we're going to come back here..." He trails off and his lips meet mine, and I taste mint on his tongue. "Come on. Let's go."

"You're such a tease."

"Just letting you know there's something to look forward to," he says, tangling his fingers with mine. "Meera will be fine, I promise. I'm sure meeting her will be nothing compared to me meeting Flo – that, I know, will be a baptism by fire."

Well, he's not wrong there. My cheeks go warm and I slink back, and he chuckles to himself, giving my hand a tug.

"It's going to be fine. She might be a bit invasive and she may ask too many questions, but she's going to love you because you're so damn fucking loveable."

My cheeks go even warmer at that, a hot red blush spreading down my chest to my toes. Gripping his hand a little tighter, I try to loosen my muscles and shake out my nerves on the way to the lift, but I know that the only thing to cure nervousness is to just get it over and done with. The moment we meet, I'll probably feel fine all of a sudden. But right now, I'm bricking it.