Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
46: Helluva Engineer
Coming of Age Sex Story: 46: Helluva Engineer - Bharath always thought going to America would mean fast love, wild parties, and maybe a stewardess or two. What he got instead? A busted duffel bag, a crying baby on the plane, and dormmates he never thought could exist in real life. Thrown into the chaos of Georgia Tech’s freshman year, Bharath begins an unforgettable journey of awkward first crushes and culture shocks. A slow-burn, emotionally rich harem romance set in the nostalgic 90s - full of laughter, lust, and longing.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Fiction Humor School Sharing Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory White Female Hispanic Female Indian Female
Tyrel woke up smiling. Not just smiling ... he was straight up grinning like a fool in a candy store who just found out the whole back aisle was free. LaTasha was curled up next to him, breathing slow and steady, her cheek pressed to his chest, her leg slung over his like she belonged there. Tyrel, who often complained that the dorm mattress, which usually felt like sleeping on plywood covered in a cotton t-shirt, now felt like a cloud.
He reached for his alarm clock radio on the narrow shelf above his bunk, clicked the dial softly.
112 was playing.
/Cupid doesn’t lie ... but you won’t know unless you give it a try/
He chuckled. The universe had jokes.
He kissed her curls, still smelling faintly of cocoa butter and clove oil, and whispered, “Girl, if I was a church, I’d let you be the choir.”
She didn’t stir.
Good
Because it gave him time to feel this. This moment. This... life.
It hadn’t always been this good.
Tyrel was a white boy who grew up two blocks past broke in a South Atlanta neighborhood that didn’t give a damn about color as long as you came correct. But he didn’t fit the box other white folks had built for him - and the Black kids didn’t always know what to do with him either. He walked like them, he talked like them, thought in beats and spoke in slang his own Mama didn’t understand sometimes.
He was more Black on the inside than his own skin admitted. And that ... that got confusing real quick.
The only constants were his mama and Malcolm - his best friend since third grade. Malcolm had taught him how to fade up, ball out, and never cry in public. They were family. Still were. But even with Malcolm and his mama ... it had always felt like something was missing.
Until this year and Georgia Tech. Until Bharath and the rest of these wild boys and girls came into his life like a damn sitcom with heart.
This was Smith 202. His new chapel. His new sanctuary.
Ravi and Nandita were off somewhere being disgustingly cute. Jorge and Camila probably weren’t even pretending to sleep anymore. But that was cool. They were solid. They were all growing up together, figuring it out in real time. Like brothers.
And somehow, by divine accident - or maybe sheer chaos - Marisol, Sarah, and Camila had set him up on Halloween with a blind date with his angel.
LaTasha.
Black, fierce and fine like summer heat. The kind of woman who could level a man with a glance but still smiled with her whole face.
Tyrel had tried to play it cool that Halloween night. He had worn his freshest flannel and spritzed on too much Wild Stone. He thought about trying to sound deeper than he was, but the moment he saw her, he’d forgotten how to speak English.
And somehow, she liked him back. She’d cracked him open without even trying. Not just because of her beauty - but because of her laugh. Her insight. The way she saw people. The way she saw him.
She didn’t laugh at his slang or correct how he talked. She didn’t flinch when he told her where he came from. And she sure as hell didn’t care that he was a white boy from the hood who still carried a chip on his shoulder the size of DeKalb County.
No. She always listened to him, challenged him and yet accepted him. And then kissed him like it meant something. And now, weeks later - somehow - they were here. Waking up in each other’s arms. In his dorm bed. With her breath tickling his collarbone and her leg hooked over him like they’d done this a thousand times.
And God help him, he was falling in love.
He didn’t say it. Not yet. Maybe not out loud.
But he felt it now, as he stared down at her lovely face - bare of makeup. She looked peaceful, maybe even glowing in the morning light.
He had worshipped her in bed last night like a man grateful just to touch a miracle. And now? Now he wanted her to meet his mama.
He wanted her to sit at their Thanksgiving table. To try his mother’s cornbread stuffing. To hear his cousin Jamie talk trash about the Falcons and get trashed by LaTasha. To dance in the kitchen while Frankie Beverly played off the cassette deck.
He wanted her to know that he wanted her to feel like she belonged with him. He wanted her to know that he was serious about and and that he wasn’t playing pretend anymore. He brushed her cheek with his thumb.
“Girl...,” he whispered, voice cracking just a little, “you don’t even know...”
And then - she stirred. Eyes fluttering open, face soft with sleep, she looked up at him and smiled.
“What you lookin’ at?” she asked, trying to sound playful.
His lips curled into that stupid, charming smirk. “You. Lookin’ like heaven in a t-shirt. Mmmm. mmm mmm.”
She rolled her eyes, blushing despite herself. “Boy, shut up.”
She gave him the kind of smile that made you believe in things. In grace and heaven. Just as he was about to crack a joke about waking up next to an angel, she said it:
“I love you.”
Just like that. Tyrel felt it like a meteor to the chest. For a second, he froze.
Not because he didn’t feel the same - but because no one had ever said that to him first.
Ever.
And part of him wanted to panic. To laugh it off and to stall.
Instead - He kissed her.
Slowly and deeply. He tried to convey all the feelings he didn’t have the words for in that kiss. When he pulled back, he didn’t say I love you too - not yet.
But he said, “Girl ... you think I didn’t know?”
Smooth like James Brown dawg. You da man!
And then he kissed her again. This time, softer like she was already his forever.
— REWIND —
LaTasha woke up warm - not just under-the-blanket cozy, but soul warm. The kind of warmth that came from being held like you were precious. Like you were wanted.
She didn’t open her eyes right away. She didn’t need to. She smiled inwardly as she could feel him wrapped around her like a protective halo. One arm slung low around her waist, the other bent behind his head. She was draped across his chest, her leg tangled with his like it was made to be there. His heartbeat was slow and steady, a calming rhythm beneath her cheek. And then she felt it - his breath.
Slow. Even. But ... a little deeper than sleep.
He was awake. She could feel him watching her.
She blinked her eyes open, letting the morning light seep in through the slats of the blinds. She tilted her head just slightly -
And yep. There he was. Staring down at her like she was something out of a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.
Her stomach flipped. Not because she didn’t like it.
But because ... she did.
Way too much.
“What you lookin’ at?” she asked, trying to sound playful.
His lips curled into that stupid, charming smirk. “You. Lookin’ like heaven in a t-shirt. Mmmm. mmm mmm.”
She rolled her eyes, blushing despite herself. “Boy, shut up.”
But he didn’t shut up. He just kept looking at her, like he was memorizing her face.
And that’s when it hit her ... This was not a hookup or a fling. This wasn’t some college mistake you laugh about years later with your girlfriends over wine and brunch. This might be real.
This man - this loud, goofy, white boy from Decatur who danced like nobody was watching (even when they definitely were) - was looking at her like she wasn’t too much.
Like she wasn’t too loud or too “bossy”. He didn’t think she was too “difficult.”
Things her sisters always said when she spoke her mind. Things her ex had said when he couldn’t handle her shine.
But Tyrel?
He didn’t shrink from it. He didn’t flinch when she challenged him. He laughed. And sometimes, he listened. He looked at her like she was worth the noise. And God help her ... she loved him. She’d known it for a few weeks now - since that night they danced the roof off during the Halloween party. He made her laugh so hard she almost fell over.
But saying it out loud? That was different.
Men ran from that word like it had fangs. Say it too soon and they vanish. Say it too late and you regret not leaping. She stared up at him now, heart pounding in her throat.
Was he different?
Could he be? Could this really be safe?
He tucked a curl behind her ear.
And in that moment - before she could overthink it again - she took a breath ... And jumped ... the ultimate leap of faith.
“I love you.”
The words landed in the space between them like a grenade. The silence was immediate.
The air felt heavy as Tyrel went still. He didn’t make a joke. There were so smirks and no playful quips. Just... silence.
Her heart dropped.
Oh God.
She’d ruined it. It was too fast ... too soon. Disappointed in herself, she started to pull back, but he cut her off. And then he said it. In a low, tender voice she had never heard from him before...
“Girl ... you think I didn’t know?”
Her world stopped.
The fear. The doubt. The shame.
All gone!
Vanished beneath the weight of those seven stupid, perfect words. Violins could’ve played in the background. Fireworks could’ve gone off behind his head. Hell, angels could’ve started doing the Electric Slide on the dorm floor.
Because this - this was what home felt like. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned. He pulled her into a kiss - deep kiss that was grounded in a promise. And when he broke it, resting his forehead against hers, she whispered:
“Don’t ever let me go.”
Tyrel smiled. “Girl, I couldn’t if I tried.”
Tyrel’s heart was full to bursting. He’d never felt like this before. He’d had crushes, flings and maybe even a couple of nights that felt like maybe they meant something. But not like this. He had never had a woman waking up in his arms, looking up at him like he was the miracle. He’d never had someone say... “I love you”... like it was the truth
When he said it back, in his own way - “Girl, you think I didn’t know?” - and saw the way her eyes lit up, her whole face opening like a sunrise over a place he’d never been brave enough to visit before ... He knew he’d never be the same.
He held her tighter now, one arm wrapped around her, chin tucked against the crown of her head as she lay nestled against him in the narrow bunk of Smith 202. Her fingers traced lazy circles over his chest through the fabric of his tank top, the kind of mindless affection that said I’m not going anywhere. The kind that made a man feel chosen.
The silence was thick with peace.
But Tyrel felt something else pressing at his ribs. Something he hadn’t wanted to say before.
Maybe now was the time.
He swallowed once. Felt her shift gently. He spoke, voice soft and almost sheepish - like peeling back the first page of a book he didn’t know if he wanted to read.
“You know I ain’t got much, right?” Tyrel said, then immediately winced. “I mean ... not like that. I’m not sayin’ you a gold digger. God, that sounded dumb.” He rubbed his eyebrow. “Can I start over?”
LaTasha didn’t say anything - just watched him, thumb drifting slow over his ribs. He took that as a yes.
He took a breath to continue. “My daddy left us when I was eight. Ran off with some woman from Birmingham. Didn’t leave us nothin’ behind but his tools and a busted-ass lawn chair.”
LaTasha’s eyes softened.
“My mama,” Tyrel continued, “she’s a fighter you know. Like Bruce Lee - only meaner. She worked three jobs some years. Janitor at a high school, cleaned offices at night, and braided hair on weekends out the back porch. I never heard her complain ‘bout that. She just kept movin’, kept prayin’ n’ kept feedin’ me with nothin’ but grit and peanut butter sandwiches.”
His voice went quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I used to feel like ... I was too much for her. Too loud and too wild. I got into fights and talked like I ran the block when I didn’t even own a bike. But she never gave up on me. Not once.”
He exhaled, brushing a thumb down LaTasha’s arm.
His fingers traced lazy circles on her hip, buying time. “Then there’s Malcolm. In the third grade, I got jumped outside a Dollar General for an ATL cap on the wrong block. He just ... threw himself in. Two tiny idiots against five bigger idiots.” He grinned, fond. “We both got whooped, so, you know ... we became brothers.”
LaTasha nodded, her hand stilling over his chest, her thumb curling against the dip of his collarbone.
“I didn’t have much, but I worked hard. Hit the books. Got that scholarship to Tech. I still can’t believe it sometimes. Like ... I’m here. With you. With this life.”
He laughed softly.
“My pride and joy used to be my old Ford pickup. That silly ol’ rusty thing. She starts when she feels like it. But she’s mine. I bought her myself with yard work money and side jobs. Fixed her up over three summers.”
He looked at LaTasha again.
“Now? I think my biggest pride ... might be you.”
Her eyes went wide, lips parting.
“I mean it,” he said. “Look ... I mean ... I ain’t tryin’ to sound corny n all. I just - damn. Just wanchu to know that ... that ... when you showed up on Halloween wearin’ that cut-off Braves jersey and shorts ... you turned my whole world upside down.”
He swallowed.
“I ... I know you got a different background. You mentioned it before. Your family’s settled. You grew up in a nice neighborhood. You probably had a yard and a dishwasher that worked.”
He shifted slightly, gaze drifting to the ceiling.
“I ... I just ... I worry sometimes that maybe my world’s too ... y’know ... like ... rough for you. Like you might get scared off if you see it up close. The guy with the little house with the water heater that rattles. I got cousins who talk over each other and my mama who won’t let you leave the table without takin’ a plate for later. It ain’t polished.”
He hesitated.
“But ... y’know ... that’s my life ... it’s real. And it’s mine. And if you ever wanted to be a part of it ... I ... I swear I’d make room.”
There was a long silence as she just looked at him in wonder. Then her hand came up to his face, thumb brushing his cheek, guiding his eyes back to hers. She looked at him like he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
“Tyrel,” she whispered, “thank you for telling me sugar.”
He didn’t speak.
“I know that you’re real. I don’t need polished, honey. I need you.”
A breath caught in his chest as she leaned in, pressing her forehead to his. “And if your mama don’t send me home with leftovers when you take me, I’m gonna be offended.”
He barked a laugh and squeezed her tight.
“I love you,” she whispered again, softer this time.
“I love you too,” he finally said back and paused. “ ... Even if you do keep leavin’ your bobby pins all over my bed.”
She slapped his arm with a laugh and then settled back into his arms. They lay there a while longer, wrapped in each other, no need for more words.
Tyrel didn’t know what the future held. But for the first time in a long time - maybe ever - he wasn’t scared. He had a girl who saw him. Friends who backed him. A path he’d earned. And maybe, just maybe ... A place to finally belong with the girl of his dreams.
LaTasha hadn’t spoken much. Not because she didn’t know what to say, but because her heart was busy trying not to burst. His story was nothing like hers. And yet, somehow, it made her feel closer to him than anything else ever had.
She shifted just enough to tilt her face toward him. His arm instinctively tightened around her waist, as if he was afraid she’d vanish in the morning light. She reached up, gently brushing a curl out of her eyes, and finally said, “Can I tell you something now?”
Tyrel blinked, like he hadn’t expected her to say much more. “Anytime sugar...”
LaTasha hesitated - just a moment - then took a breath. “I come from a different world,” she said softly. “You already know that, but ... I guess I’ve never really explained.”
Tyrel gave a half-smile. “I kinda figured. You say ‘country club’ like it’s a regular word.”
LaTasha laughed, despite the nerves crawling up her spine. “Yeah. Well ... my dad’s a surgeon. Mom’s a homemaker. I’ve got three sisters - brilliant but terrifying sisters. They all went to elite schools, joined the right sororities, dated the right boys. We’ve had everything, Tyrel. Like ... everything. Summer camps, private school, new cars at sixteen. The works.”
She paused as she thought about how to continue.
“And I love them. I love my family. I’m proud of where I come from. But sometimes...”
Her voice got quieter.
“ ... sometimes it felt like everything was already decided. Like I was just following a script. Be poised. Be sharp. Be successful. Date someone who checks all the boxes. Smile more. Argue less. And definitely don’t be too loud.”
Tyrel tilted his head. “You? Loud? I can’t even imagine.”
She smiled, her cheeks warming as she punched him in the arm.
“My sisters say I’m the difficult one,” she said. “The one who talks back. The one who takes up too much space. I’ve been told I’m bossy. Intimidating. Too opinionated. One guy I dated told me I had ‘executive energy’ like it was a bad thing.”
Tyrel’s brow furrowed. “What the hell is that even supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “That I don’t play soft. That I expect the same effort I give.”
He exhaled, still holding her close. “Sounds like you’re just a woman who knows her worth.”
LaTasha bit her lip. “That’s the thing,” she whispered. “I’ve never known a man like you.”
Tyrel blinked, not knowing what to say to that.
“I mean it,” she said. “All my boyfriends before were ... safe. Polished. Trust fund boys who went to prep school and knew which fork to use and didn’t flinch when the bill hit the table. But you...”
She reached for his face, fingers brushing along his jaw.
“You feel like life. Like something real. You’re not trying to impress me. You just show up. Every time. With your stupid jokes and your busted truck and your big-ass heart - and I’ve never felt more seen.”
He didn’t speak. So she kept going.
“And no, I don’t care where you come from. I’m proud of it. I’m proud of you. What you’ve built. What you carry. You’ve done this all on your own. And you still manage to make space for other people. For me.”
Tyrel’s eyes were shining.
“And just so we’re clear,” she added, a bit more playfully, “your mama sounds like the best kind of woman. And if she doesn’t like me, I’m gonna riot.”
He laughed, sniffing. “Oh, she gonna love you. She’s already prayin’ I bring home someone who can teach me to clean up after myself.”
LaTasha grinned, snuggling deeper into his arms.
“I’ve never left Georgia,” she murmured after a while. “Never been around people who weren’t from the same slice of Southern Black society. I’ve never had close friends outside my little world.”
Tyrel nodded. “Same. You were the first Black girl I ever dated. Before this year, I’d never met someone from India, or Bolivia, or even New York.”
They both chuckled.
“And now look at us,” LaTasha said. “Half our crew is international. I mean, Bharath? That boy is on some other level.”
Tyrel barked a laugh. “Man’s got two girlfriends and still tutors half the dorm. I don’t even know what he’s runnin’ on. Spice and godly vibes, I guess.”
“Don’t forget cheekbones and wild fan clubs,” LaTasha added.
“Ravi and Jorge and I were just talkin’ about it last week,” Tyrel said. “We were like, ‘Bharath’s out here doin’ a Bollywood love story in real life, and we’re lucky if our girls even call back on time.’”
LaTasha giggled.
“And Marisol and Sarah?” Tyrel shook his head. “Powerhouses. And Nandita? That girl is so fierce I actually get nervous when she walks into the room.”
LaTasha grinned. “She’s my girl. She feels like the sister I never had.”
“I thought you had three sisters.”
She rolled her eyes. “Exactly. I said what I said.”
They both laughed again, the sound mingling with the soft hum of campus just starting to stir outside the window.
Then LaTasha went quiet.
“It’s crazy,” she whispered.
“What is?”
“That we all found each other. Ravi, Nandita, Jorge, Camila, Bharath, Sarah, Marisol ... you, me. From all these different backgrounds, all these different lives. And somehow we fit.”
Tyrel smiled.
“Yeah. We work. Like a weird little found family. Everybody brings somethin’. Everybody gets seen.”
LaTasha looked up at him, heart full.
“You think it’ll last?” she asked, softer now. “This ... thing we have?”
Tyrel leaned down, kissed her forehead.
“I think it already has,” he whispered. “Because for the first time in my life - I ain’t feelin’ like a guest. I’m feelin’ like I belong.”
LaTasha closed her eyes.
They both relaxed as Tyrel glanced over her shoulder at the glowing green numbers on his alarm clock radio.
7:43 a.m
Thu, Nov
His breath caught.
Wait a minute. Wait just a holy minute.
His eyes widened like someone had just set off fireworks in his soul.
“Oh hell naw.”
LaTasha blinked. “What?”
Tyrel jerked upright in bed like a man possessed, nearly knocking LaTasha off his chest. “Girl ... get up! It’s game day.”
She blinked again, amused. “What now?”
“GAME DAY, BABY!” He threw the covers back, scrambled for his Georgia Tech hoodie and his socks like a man late to church. “You see the date?! Today ain’t just Thursday. Today is football Thursday. Today is baptism in Bobby Dodd. We play Clemson, baby!”
LaTasha dropped back onto the bed, laughing as he hopped around the dorm in boxers and one sock. “Lord have mercy.”
Tyrel spun on the spot like a preacher seeing a vision. “Clemson. Those orange-wearing sinners? They don’t know what’s comin’. GT is ranked, girl. Ranked. That ain’t happened since - hell, I don’t even know when! But today?” He pointed dramatically at the ceiling. “Today, we rise.”
LaTasha buried her face in the pillow to muffle her giggles.
Tyrel was not done.
“Oh no. Naw, naw, naw.” He grabbed his old Discman off the desk, popped in his pump-up CD - Outkast, of course - and started pacing like a coach drawing up the gospel of gridiron.
“These non-football-lovin’, cricket-playin’, soccer-watching heathens I call friends? They will learn today.” He pointed at Ravi’s empty bed. “That boy thinks a touchdown is a math term.”
LaTasha was fully laughing now, watching her boyfriend whirl around like a coach with a divine mandate.
“I swear to God, Jorge thinks football means kicking a ball like it’s Copa América. Copa my ass. I’m bringin’ the Holy Spirit to that tailgate, LaTasha. They gon’ learn the gospel of GT football or I’ll be speakin’ in tongues by halftime!”
He marched back over to the bed, pulling on sweatpants like he was suiting up for war.
“You got the girls in line, right? Don’t let them back out. Sarah’s gonna say she has to study, Marisol’s gonna act like she don’t care, and Camila’s just gonna start dancing and hope nobody notices she don’t know what down it is.”
LaTasha stretched her arms overhead, the sheets slipping down her bare shoulders. “Yes, Coach Jesus. I’ll make sure your apostles are ready.”
He stopped cold, turned and stared at LaTasha. Then his voice dropped into a reverent hush.
“Girl. You look like a whole damn halftime show.”
LaTasha smirked, rising to her knees on the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You crazy, you know that?”
He grinned. “Crazy for football.”
She leaned in close, lips brushing his. “And maybe a little crazy for me?”
Tyrel blinked. “You gotta ask that?”
She kissed him - deep, long, and loud enough to shut up even him for a second. His hands gripped her waist as he pulled her tight, her curves flush against his chest.
When they broke apart, breathless and grinning, LaTasha rested her forehead against his. “Now go save your heathen friends.”
He pulled back, full of righteous fire again. “Time to bless these boys with football knowledge and tailgate plans. I got the tickets. I got the playlist. I got the face paint. And tonight?”
He slammed his fist into his open palm.
“Clemson goes DOWN.”
He kissed her once more on the forehead and turned toward the door with the urgency of Moses parting the Red Sea.
LaTasha fell back into the bed, watching him with a smirk as she whispered to herself:
“Lord help me, I love that fool.”
And she meant every word.
The cafeteria was buzzing. Not with academic stress or midterm panic - but something louder. Giddier. Woven into the thick aroma of fried chicken and microwaved burritos was the unmistakable scent of football energy. Specifically, Tyrel energy.
Table 7 was already a scene. Ravi had his Discrete Math textbook open beside a tray of nachos, Jorge was poking suspiciously at a chili dog, Bharath was sipping his lemonade like he was trying to disappear into it, and Tyrel?
Tyrel was pacing in his GT hoodie with a whistle around his neck.
“I cannot believe the blasphemy I just heard,” he declared, practically shaking. “You’re tellin’ me, with your full chest, that football - American football - is just... men fighting with breaks?!”
Ravi blinked. “It is, though. They play for five seconds and then everyone has a meeting. What kind of sport pauses for talks every few minutes?”
Bharath raised a hand. “It’s true. I thought it was a military drill at first. I was waiting for someone to yell ‘fire!’”
Tyrel gasped like someone had insulted his mama. He pointed dramatically at Jorge. “And you?”
Jorge shrugged, chewing slowly. “If the ball isn’t round, it’s not football. It’s like ... eggball. Or tackle-egg.”
“TACKLE-EGG?!”
Tyrel clutched his heart, staggered backwards, and collapsed into the seat next to LaTasha, who patted him like a wounded preacher.
“You all heathens, “ he whispered. “We let you into this country and this is how you thank us?”
“Excuse me?” Nandita snapped, arms folded, though her smile gave her away.
Sarah leaned forward. “Look, we’re not big fans either. But we support school spirit.”
Camila nodded. “And I like face paint.”
Marisol smirked. “And the tailgate food. Don’t forget the food.”
LaTasha rolled her eyes. “And the tight pants those boys wear on the field.”
“Also that,” Sarah added as the girls giggled.
Tyrel straightened in his chair. “Okay. Okay. So we’re goin’. That’s what I’m hearing. We’re goin’, and we’re doin’ this right. I’ve already got the cooler, the grill, the music -”
“You brought a grill?” Bharath asked, eyebrows raised.
“To the parking lot?” Ravi blinked. “Is that allowed?”
“Is it allowed?” Tyrel threw his arms in the air. “Boy, this is Georgia Tech. You think the Lord Himself wouldn’t want hot dogs and hype music before we send Clemson to hell?”
Jorge sighed. “I’ll come. But only because Camila said we can wear coordinated outfits.”
“Exactly,” Camila said. “You can learn football later. Today, we look cute.”
Marisol leaned into Bharath’s side. “Please come? For me? You don’t have to like the game. You just have to pretend.”
Bharath grinned, helpless. “You know I’ll go. But if someone asks me what a quarterback is, I’m pointing to Ravi.”
“Why me?!” Ravi cried.
“Because when you lend money you always ask for it back in quarters ... for laundry.”
The table erupted in laughter except for Tyrel. He stood again looking wounded as he pretended that he didn’t hear that blasphemy. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about. We’re gonna eat, we’re gonna yell, we’re gonna pretend we understand the plays, and we’re gonna make memories.”
As he continued outlining a list of required chants and which boys were responsible for what snacks, Bharath turned his head casually toward the far corner of the cafeteria and then stopped.
Zara and Ayesha were not sitting at their usual spot. Something was off with them. They weren’t gossiping with a whole coterie of admirers around them. They didn’t glare at him or pretend to laugh too loudly to be ignored. They were staring.
At him.