Of Curses and Kisses Page 11

  “Don’t talk with boys,” Appa said immediately. “Just say it’s against your culture.”

  Isha snorted, and Jaya elbowed her off-screen. “Yes, Appa,” she said demurely.

  “Isha, that means you, too,” Amma said. “Don’t forget what happened not too long ago.”

  Isha was immediately more serious. “I remember,” she mumbled.

  “Jaya, you’ll take care of her, won’t you?” Amma said.

  “Of course I will,” Jaya replied, putting an arm around her sister. “That’s my job.”

  Isha rolled her eyes and groaned. “Why can’t you all stop treating me like I’m six years old?”

  “You’ll always be my baby,” Amma said, smiling fondly at the two of them.

  Appa took a more serious tack. “How are things there? Has anyone said anything…?”

  “No,” Jaya responded, equally seriously. “We’re fitting in well.”

  “Even though Grey—” Isha began, but Jaya quieted her with a look. There was no need to mention Grey at all. It would just upset their parents.

  “Hmm?” Amma asked, leaning toward the camera. “Even though what?”

  “Even though gray… gray skies prevail, we shall see it through!” Isha said, smiling brightly.

  “Erm, yes, victory will be ours,” Jaya said, adopting an equally bogus, cheery-to-the-point-of-being-scary grin. “Anyway,” she continued. “We should probably go. But we’ll call you soon!”

  “Okay, take care, both of you,” Appa said. “We’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Bye, chinnu,” Amma said in a wobbly voice, her eyes shiny. Chinnu was her term of endearment for her two daughters, and hearing it made Jaya feel a little sick at the thought of the lie she’d just told.

  She pushed the “end” button and turned to Isha. “Wow.” She blew out a breath. “Good save there.”

  “Mediocre save,” Isha corrected. After a pause, she said, “Why we can’t tell them about Grey Emerson, again?”

  “Because we don’t want to worry them,” Jaya said. Guilt squirmed in her stomach like a nest of snakes. She abhorred lying, generally. It was crass and craven and behavior not befitting a royal. But wasn’t all fair in love and war? This was definitely war. Grey Emerson may not know it yet, but Jaya certainly did. “What’s the point, when they can’t do anything about it?”

  “Right,” Isha said thoughtfully.

  “Anyway. Are you ready? We’re supposed to be in the ballroom in seven minutes. Dr. Waverly will probably send out a search party if we’re late.” Dr. Waverly had been on edge ever since they’d announced the mixer, warning people repeatedly that if they “cavorted” in an “inappropriate manner” at any time, she’d put their entire school on lockdown. Jaya felt a prickle of sympathy for the headmistress. It couldn’t be an easy task—managing students who were used to getting everything they wanted the instant they decided they wanted it, while also keeping their extremely powerful, wealthy parents happy.

  Isha looked at her silently for a long moment, as if she could sense that Jaya was holding something back. But then, sighing, she stood.

  The two of them walked arm in arm out of the room, and Jaya thought, It’ll be all right soon, Ish. You’ll see.

  CHAPTER 8

  Grey

  Grey stood by a large potted plant in a corner of the sprawling rooftop of the main building, watching everyone laugh and socialize—something he’d never quite gotten the hang of. Elliot, the kid from the library and Isha’s friend, talked animatedly with a group of other sophomores. Grey was glad, in spite of himself. He’d noticed the boy last year, too, always walking by himself around campus. He’d probably had a hard time fitting in, being one of the only scholarship people at St. R’s. Grey got what it meant to be different, apart. Which might sound weird coming from a rich, white, British-born male aristocrat, but Grey had never felt part of anything. He’d always thought of himself as an island, existing outside of the continent of human relationships. Elliot looked over, caught his eye, and waved. After a moment’s hesitation, Grey raised his own hand in a kind-of wave.

  A cloud of laughter rose up from another group in the corner and Grey’s gaze passed over them. Everyone was a glitzier, more animated version of themselves tonight. Grey couldn’t help feeling the slightest edge of boredom, of ennui. Every year was the same. The freshmen were fresh-faced, the sophomores were finally getting into the groove of things, the juniors were all about hooking up, and the seniors would spike the punch at some point. Same show, slightly different actors. Did none of them notice? Did no one except him see how… how pointless it all was?

  “Yo.” Daphne Elizabeth grabbed his elbow, jerking him out of the spiral of his thoughts. “You okay? You look like you’re watching the most depressing movie in the universe.”

  Grey straightened. “I’m fine.”

  Batting her feathery glued-on eyelashes, DE looked down at her distressed retro prom dress. “How do I look?”

  Grey studied her. She’d ripped holes in the silk fabric so her cleavage and stomach were exposed. “Good,” he said blandly.

  She grinned. “Loquacious as usual, huh? Well, thanks. This used to be my nana’s, so I thought I’d repurpose it.”

  Leo appeared at his elbow and tutted at DE. He’d worn his long hair down and was dressed in a very flashy blue suit. “And does Nana know that you have so mercilessly ‘repurposed’ her dress?”

  DE smiled slyly. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”

  “Yes, yes, I suppose so. But enough of that because I have exciting news: I am ready to find a girlfriend,” Leo said, throwing up his hands just as Rahul walked up. He was dressed more conservatively, like Grey, in a black suit, although he was wearing a tie and Grey had decided to go open collar. Honestly, Grey thought, he just couldn’t be bothered with a tie for the sake of two or three mind-numbing hours of standing around.

  “Congratulations?” DE said to Leo, raising an eyebrow. “Got anyone in mind? I might want to warn her.”

  “I have compiled Leo’s requirements for a partner from several conversations and have come to the conclusion that the only true requirement is that she have a pulse,” Rahul said, completely deadpan.

  “Why do you say this to me?” Leo asked over DE’s guffaw, ostensibly hurt, though his mouth twitched. “Okay, okay, I do confess this: my requirements have been very lax in the past. But this year I will find my one true love!”

  “True love is an abstract, illogical social construct that likely does not exist,” Rahul countered. “There’s no biological imperative to support the concept of true love.”

  Leo sighed, then, turning to DE, he said, “Well, at least things are going better for you, mon amie. I have seen Alaric and Caterina fighting a lot recently. You must be very happy, non?”

  DE flushed and looked away. “Not especially.”

  “But you and Alaric—” Leo began.

  “Well, that doesn’t mean I think it’s all candy hearts and unicorn farts, okay?” DE snapped. “Do you think I like being the reason for someone’s heartache? Do you think I’m a total bitch?”

  Leo looked taken aback. “Non,” he said carefully. “I do not think that at all.”

  DE put two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I need a drink.”

  As she walked away, Leo said, “Hmm. That ship, it has a crack in its foundation.”

  “Ships don’t have foundations. Buildings have foundations,” Rahul said, and began to walk off. “I’m hungry.”

  Leo, apparently back to his usual optimistic state, grinned and rubbed his hands. “Okay. Would you like to go with me to execute Mission Find-a-Partner, Grey? I really feel this is the year for us.”

  “No, thank you,” Grey said, putting one hand in his pocket. “I’m going to hang out here.”

  After only the slightest hesitation, Leo shrugged and walked off after Rahul. Grey wondered how much longer it’d be before they decided Grey wasn’t
worth the trouble. He could see DE, Rahul, and Leo remaining friends through college. He, on the other hand, wouldn’t even make it to college.

  Grey was wondering if he should go back to his room when Jaya Rao glided in. And, without quite realizing it, he forgot to breathe.

  Jaya

  Jaya walked through the open set of double French doors with Isha. It had been chilly on the walk over, but several large outdoor heaters had been placed all over the expansive rooftop, making it almost balmy. Although, maybe it wasn’t only the heaters. There were almost two hundred people here. Jaya took off her bolero and stuffed it into her bag as she and Isha looked around.

  It was beautiful, Jaya had to admit. She’d been to her share of gorgeous functions at the palace, of course, but this was different. Perhaps because she was surrounded by her peers rather than stuffy old officials and her parents’ friends, Jaya felt a thrum of excitement. She felt like a proper teen tonight, not just Rajkumari Jaya Rao. Smiling, she took in the ornate white stone railing and dozens of large potted topiary plants, draped with thick strands of twinkling lights that cast a golden glow on everything. There was a large table to her right, on which snacks and drinks of every kind were on display. Waiters in tuxes walked around with canapés and glasses of punch on silver trays. Hidden speakers thumped out party music that vibrated the stone floor under Jaya’s feet. Above her, the star-sprinkled night sky stretched on, infinite.

  Couples and groups of people were clustered around the rooftop, everyone’s faces shining. The girls sparkled with makeup, expensive jewelry, and anticipation. The boys—hair slicked back or hanging in their eyes carefully—smirked with a practiced nonchalance, but their glowing cheeks gave them away too. There were teacher chaperones present, but they kept themselves tucked away, talking quietly to each other.

  “Hi, Elliot!” Isha called from beside her, and the shorter white boy from the library, now surrounded by a group of students—sophomores, from the baby-faced looks of them—waved enthusiastically. “I’ll see you later, okay, Jaya?” Isha said, and before she could respond, her little sister had danced off to join the boy.

  Jaya opened her mouth to call after her little sister and then closed it again. She had other, more pressing business to get to at the moment. Where was Grey Emerson?

  It was like thinking his name had summoned him. Jaya took a glass of punch from a waiter, turned slowly to survey everyone, and found him gazing directly at her. Her breath caught in her throat. He had one hand in his pocket, the other circled loosely around a glass of his own. He’d left his hair shaggy, hanging on his forehead. The open collar of his shirt hinted at his broad, nicely defined chest, and the well-cut suit jacket hugged his muscular frame. Those were all lovely details, aesthetically pleasing things meant for others—like that group of students in the corner, who were not-very-surreptitiously watching him and making not-so-subtle innuendos. (Jaya noticed everything. It was a gift and a curse.) But his eyes… his eyes were locked on Jaya.

  She stood still, watching as he made his way toward her through the crowd, a head taller than everyone else, his bright sapphire gaze locked with hers. Her heart pounded. Why was he looking at her like that, like she was both the journey and the goal? Maybe her plan was working better than she thought. But this time, calling her plan to mind didn’t give her purpose and confidence, as it usually did. Jaya blinked and looked away, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear as she felt him draw closer.

  “Hello,” Jaya said. She could smell his cologne: leather and pepper and woodsmoke.

  Grey nodded, his intense gaze never leaving her face.

  Jaya took a drink, not because she was thirsty, but because his eyes, those wild eyes, all storms and thunder and crashing waves, unnerved her. Normal people didn’t look at you like that.

  She waited, but Grey didn’t rush to fill in the silence. He just continued watching her.

  “So this is a St. Rosetta’s mixer,” Jaya said, in a voice that sounded about two octaves higher than her normal one. God, was she starting to sweat?

  “It is,” Grey agreed. He was just standing so close because it was loud here, Jaya told herself. After a pause, he added, “You look…”

  She waited, heart hammering.

  “…nice,” he finished, and she felt a little thud of disappointment. Which, of course, was because she needed him to fall in love with her in order for her plan to work, and “nice” wasn’t exactly a sizzling proclamation of love.

  “Thank you.” Jaya smiled her most charming smile, forced her eyes to shine like he’d called her this generation’s Mona Lisa. “You look really great in a suit.” He did, too; that was no lie.

  Grey pulled on his cuffs and said disparagingly, “I’ve learned it’s a good idea to have at least three suits or tuxes on hand if you’re a male student at St. R’s. The administration likes to make us dress up so they can photograph us and convince our parents back home we’re following in their ‘civilized’ footsteps.”

  Jaya regarded him in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much at once,” she said before she could stop herself. “You must feel rather strongly about it.” That had been a veritable speech for Grey Emerson. Had he ever said so many words, apart from when he was talking to Isha about robotics?

  He grunted and looked away.

  “But anyway, there’s nothing wrong with following our parents, is there?” Jaya said, trying to get him to open up once more. She shouldn’t have called attention to his verbosity at all. “I think my parents’ footsteps are respectable ones to want to follow.”

  “Yes, but…”

  Jaya waited.

  “Don’t you ever feel the need to do something different with your life than what they expect?” His voice was so low it rumbled inside her chest.

  “Different?” Jaya laughed at the very idea. “ ‘Different’ is for artists and celebrities’ kids. I’ve always known, since I was a small child, that it’d be up to me to carry on the family legacy. I’ve known I needed to go to an Ivy League university, major in business or finance, and return back home to run Appa’s estate. Simple.”

  Grey raised an eyebrow. “Simple? More like incredibly boring.”

  Jaya straightened her spine, her eyes drilling into his. “Boring? Did you really just call my life boring?”

  Grey looked at her for a moment, as if he were weighing whether he wanted to say what he was really thinking. “I’m calling your life plan boring,” he said finally. “That’s an important distinction. Don’t you find it… stifling to have your entire life mapped out according to someone else’s plan? Don’t you want to define for yourself who you are rather than just taking someone else’s word for granted?” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Don’t you have a mind of your own, or do you believe everything your father tells you?” He spat the last question out rapidly at her, his words like bullets from a machine gun. But somehow she got the idea he wasn’t just talking to her. Well, regardless of whomever he intended that message for, he was being remarkably, flagrantly rude. Then again, what else could be expected from an Emerson?

  Jaya’s temper rose like water that was dangerously close to spilling over a dam. She tried channeling Amma and counting backward from one hundred by sevens, but she was barely at ninety-three when she found herself snapping as the dam burst, “My father is a well-respected, honorable member of society, unlike some other people’s!”

  There was a dangerous silence as they both glared at each other. Then, very carefully, like his own temper was only hanging on by a thread, Grey asked in a low voice, “What do you mean by that?”

  Bollocks. He’d earned every word of that comeback, naturally, but Jaya’d lost sight of the plan. And that was very, very bad. Keep your eyes on the prize, Jaya, my girl, her inner critic said, shaking her head and tutting. Recover yourself immediately. “Nothing,” she said, trying to calm her breathing and putting on a smile that felt very flat and very small. Why did this boy get to her so easily? “
Nothing. Just that other people here, their fathers… I don’t know. I’ve heard stories. That’s all.” You arrogant, bloody son of a duke.

  Grey studied her for a long moment, like he didn’t quite believe her. Nevertheless, the fire went out of his eyes. She felt her cheeks warm and her temper cool at his obvious suspicion and coughed politely to distract from it. “So, ah, Grey,” she said. “What’s your plan, then? After you graduate?”

  A strange look passed fleetingly over his face. “I have no plans.”

  Jaya frowned, interested in spite of herself. “But… what about your estate? Westborough? Don’t you want to manage that, help the duke run it?”

  Something dark and shadowed settled over Grey. “That’s not in the cards for me.”

  “But surely your family would want—”

  “I don’t speak with my family,” Grey said tersely.

  “None of them?” Jaya frowned, remembering his words at the sushi restaurant. Family can be unreliable. Family can hurt you.

  “No,” Grey said, his jaw hard. “None of them.”

  Jaya felt a flickering doubt, like a guttering flame, inside her. Was it possible that Grey really didn’t speak to his family? That his seeming lack of knowledge about the Rao scandal wasn’t an act or a devious ploy she couldn’t work out, but simply the truth? But… then who had the journalist in India been talking about? Was there another young Emerson who might’ve fed the papers this story? Perhaps. Jaya didn’t know every single member of the Emerson family tree.

  She studied Grey’s profile, feeling a hint of misgiving. If he truly had no idea what his family had done… did he deserve to be punished for it? But had the Emersons given Isha any such consideration? Had they thought of her as an innocent?

  “Why don’t you speak to your family?” Jaya asked, bringing her mind back to the conversation at hand.

  Grey was opening his mouth to respond when Samantha Wickers accidentally whacked him with her shoulder. Samantha, a senior like them, had curly strawberry-blond hair piled into a high updo and was nice enough, Jaya supposed, but right then she wanted to slap her.