My pulse was racing. In one year we’d be here as our human selves. No pretense. No secrets. “Okay,” I said. “Next year.”
He reached for me with his other hand, his palm resting on my cheek, tilting my face up toward his. I stopped breathing. He was going to kiss me, and I felt like I’d collapse under the weight of how badly I wanted him to.
But he just lowered his forehead to mine. “Next year,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
NOW
I stand on the roof as my human self for the second time.
It feels weird somehow. Different. I’m still in my dress, the hem rustling in the wind. I shiver a little and regret for a second not wearing something a little warmer. My stomach is in knots as I glance down at the phone in my hand. 6:33 p.m. It’s early still. The sun has only just started to set behind the sprawling suburban city.
We’re not supposed to meet until seven, but I couldn’t just sit downstairs with all those people pretending that my mind wasn’t somewhere else—with someone else. I carefully reapply my lipstick, using my phone camera as a mirror.
It’s 6:53. Seven minutes. It’s actually happening. We’re finally going to meet as our human selves, and I’m going to know who he is.
My gaze is fixed on the stairwell now, waiting for it to open. I’m clutching my phone so tightly that I’m worried I’m going to crush it.
6:58. Any minute now.
7:13.
7:29.
Nothing.
I bite my lower lip and continue staring at the stairwell door uncomprehendingly.
He didn’t come.
I wake up in the motel bed, staring at the water-stained ceiling. It must be after sunrise because when I reach up to rub my eyes, my hands are human again.
Embarrassment fills me as I remember the night before, making me want to pull the sheets over my head and never emerge. On the bed next to mine, I see Sahana’s still-sleeping form. I don’t want to deal with her questions, so instead of hiding, I tiptoe out of bed. It’s barely six a.m., and we don’t have to be at the local high school for another three hours, but I can’t stay here, so I get ready for the day.
Halfway through, I realize that I left my lipstick on the roof. I close my eyes and swear under my breath. The last thing I want is to go back there, but it’s my mom’s, and after the look of trust on her face, I can’t bear the thought of disappointing her by losing yet another of her items.
So I steel my nerves and slip out of the room. It’s early and no one is around, but I still glance nervously over my shoulder. I walk quickly, trying to avoid looking at anything that might dredge up memories I would much rather forget.
When I step onto the roof, I see two things at once. The tube of lipstick is miraculously still sitting on top of the railing right where I’d left it.
And I’m not alone.
My heart stops for a moment as the figure comes into view, holding something in his hand. It’s Sagar.
His eyes widen in surprise.
I walk to him, my heart thumping with every step. “Whatare you doing here?” I ask. I know. Or IthinkI know. But I need to hear him say it.
“You’re up early,” he says, evading my question.
“Sagar.”
He finally looks at me, and in the stark light of day, I see the resemblance—a dark intensity in his gaze that is so familiar that I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now. Sagar is an asura. He’smyasura. And somehow it makes sense—like a part of me has always known.
“Why didn’t you come yesterday?” I ask, my voice raw.
He doesn’t deny it. “I don’t know.” He sounds strangely defeated and entirely unlike himself.
“I need more than that.” I finally notice what he’s holding in his hand. It’s a notebook. Specifically,mynotebook. The one I thought I lost months ago. “Why do you have that?”
