A Beginner's Guide to the American West ✓

chapter forty

"Then it's bristle for as long as I can stand it before I have to run to the closest CVS."

"Look at you, sounding all American."

He slips into a flawless American accent – the standard one, the kind I hear on every television programme that could be from anywhere in the country – when he says, "Speaking of CVS, we might need to head there before tonight."

I pair his words with their meaning and I say, "I've got that covered."

"You have? Already?" His eyebrows leap up higher than his glasses and he twists slightly to look at me. I realise how that sounds; he's probably thinking I was a presumptuous arsehole.

"Remember when Young-mi gave us the drinks and cards in Vegas?"

"Yes..."

"And you gave me a bag of stuff that you said she told you I asked for?"

"I do. Is this going where I think it is? Were you looking to get lucky that night?"

"No! No, I wasn't," I say with a laugh. "I didn't ask her for anything but she was very into the idea of us and she knew how much I liked you, and apparently she thought we were gonna hook up when you asked for alcohol, so she gave me condoms and lube."

Arjun splutters. "Jesus. Wow. I mean, I'd've been surprised a few days ago but now? That's starting to seem pretty on brand for her." He's slowly shaking his head. "Saved us a bit of dough, huh? That stuff isn't cheap."

"I know! God, I was so mortified when I opened that bag," I say, "but at least we're covered. Literally."

His arm goes back around my shoulders and I feel his lips against my temple, his warm breath on my cheek when he lets out a sigh; his hand slides up my arm to my shoulder and his fingers graze over my neck. Goosebumps erupt all over my body, a shiver shimmying its way down my spine like a trickle of water sliding down by back, and I lean into him.

My dad once told me that falling in love is the most brilliant pain, that it was a feeling he never had to question. He just knew; he understood the fierce swelling in his chest and the light-headedness and it just made sense, and I get it, I really do. Being here with Arjun feels right; the thought of us getting on separate planes home makes me feel queasy, just plain wrong. I don't have to dig deep and poke at my heart to know that I'm falling in love with him because I just know it, as surely as I know that I am March, as surely as I know that I'm in San Francisco.

It's at once overwhelming and uplifting and it shouldn't knock me sideways because I've been in love before; I fell for Lily and George was my everything, but I still feel as though everything's been turned on its head, everything's different and yet I still recognise these feelings instantly. That love and this love is ... it's like a beanbag and a bench. They may look totally different, but I know instinctively that they're both seats.

"You're very deep in thought," Arjun murmurs.

"Mmm."

He taps the side of my head. "Anything interesting going on in there?"

"Nothing new. Thinking about you."

"I didn't know you were a poet."

"I just don't show it."

"You're on fire."

"'Cause you inspire ... me," I say, ending on a bit of a flat note. I turn my head and my lips find his, and I close my eyes to languish in a lazy kiss with the sun beating down on us from somewhere amidst the haze.

"You're cute," he says.

"Not so bad yourself."

I peel away reluctantly and stand up, leaning a little more heavily on my left foot, and when Arjun stands, I loop my arm through his. It's hard to resist pulling him into a hug and resting my head on his shoulder but I've got two more full days with him and a lot less time with Young-mi and the twins.