Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
60: Black Jesus Take the Wheel
Coming of Age Sex Story: 60: Black Jesus Take the Wheel - 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
“Okay, this is weird,” Ravi whispered, pushing his glasses up as they stood outside the white-bricked façade of La Rivière, a French fusion bistro that looked like it belonged in Buckhead, not three blocks from campus.
“LaRiv-wha?” Tyrel squinted at the gold-lettered sign. “Ain’t this the place where that one Tech professor proposed to his wife with a violinist and a chocolate souffle? Why do those letters have those sticks on them?”
LaTasha rolled her eyes. “Those aren’t sticks babe. Those are accents. That’s French.”
Camila nodded, impressed. “You need reservations weeks in advance. I guess they’re not so busy in the afternoons.”
Jorge scanned the courtyard. “Mira! What are we doing here? Did Bharath win a lottery we don’t know about? Man’s so thrifty that he made us split a coupon he found for pizza once. No way he’s splurging on something like this place. I’m sure nothing costs less than 5 bucks here.”
Ravi nodded wisely, “Our man’s careful with money. Remember that plan he had where we all shared that All-you-can-eat breadsticks and soup at the Olive Garden the other day?”
Tyrel chuckled, “That waitress was so suspicious of us. Remember she kept asking us if any of us wanted anything more than water? That soup and breadsticks combo is the best dawg. Wish I’d thought of that genius idea before.”
Jorge nodded, “Si. It was genius. Unfortunately, it didn’t work at that Chinese buffet though.”
LaTasha was horrified yet curious at the same time. “You criminals ... you just scammed Olive Garden and that other place.”
Jorge raised an eyebrow, “So you don’t want to know what happened?”
LaTasha had the good grace to blush. “No ... I want to know.”
“Trust the damn Chinese folks to know that we were going to pull something like that. As soon as we walked in, we were marked men,” said Ravi sadly.
“That’s racial discrimination y’know. Now I know how y’all black people feel...” Tyrel bit his tongue when LaTasha glared at him while Camila and Nandita clutched at each other in horror.
“ ... I’m kidding y’all. Baby. That was a joke.”
“I’m telling your mama, Tyrel. That was mean,” said LaTasha shaking her pretty head causing Tyrel to babble more apologies while Ravi and Jorge nudged each other grinning seeing Tyrel trying to apologize.
“Y’all ain’t no less criminals,” said LaTasha gunning for the other boys now.
“It was all Bharath’s idea. You remember how he wanted to bribe the officer at the DMV,” said Jorge shamelessly. “He’s crooked like that.”
Camila laughed. “Ay senor. As if you were any better that day. You came up with the idea for that Luxe thing where anyone could bribe their way to a license. Not to forget, your wanted poster is posted at all DMVs.”
“Hey! Mami ... you’re my girl. You’re supposed to support me!” said Jorge huffily, seeing the others chuckling. Tyrel gave Camila a thumbs-up for taking the heat off him.
Nandita raised an eyebrow. “Getting back to this restaurant. It has to be something serious. Sarah and Marisol were practically glowing when they asked us to ‘join them for an intimate celebratory meal’ this morning.” Her voice dripped with suspicion.
LaTasha folded her arms. “Y’all think Sarah’s pregnant?”
Jorge gasped, “Maybe it’s Marisol, or maybe both.”
Camila shook her head sagely, “That would make sense. Those three have so much sex - it was bound to happen.”
Nandita whispered conspiratorially, “Yea I know. I heard that they do it at least four or five times a day.”
“Are we counting the number of times they have sex or orgasms. Mari told me she has at least ten a day,” whispered LaTasha to Nandita.
Ravi whimpered and held his hands to his head, “Don’t! I’m just a boy.”
Tyrel’s eyes widened. “Don’t play like that!”
“Dios madre!” Jorge muttered. “Marisol’s pregnant, isn’t she?! That’s why we’re here!”
“Wait, wait - maybe it’s cultural,” Camila added thoughtfully. “Like ... a traditional thing. Thanksgiving announcement? Are they telling Marisol’s mom that Sarah’s in the throuple officially?”
Tyrel’s eyes narrowed. “Then why’d they bring us here? This place is expensive! They need a favor don’t they?”
“Maybe they want us to help break the news?” Nandita offered.
Ravi swallowed. “Then why do they need a violinist? Is there a violinist? But why a violinist?”
Tyrel squinted at the door and pointed at the valet. “There he is. He’s wearing gloves. That’s gotta be a clue. Who wears gloves? That’s got to be suspicious. No one be that fancy for no Thanksgiving announcement. I ain’t gonna be no patsy for Marisol’s mom.”
LaTasha and Camila nodded in agreement. “Yes. This bears more investigation.”
Before the detective work could spiral out of control, the doors swung open and Bharath emerged with a sheepish grin. “Hey guys. Come on in. We’ve got a table inside.”
He then turned and hurried back in before they could ask any questions. The gang trouped in behind him - their suspicions raised now.
Tyrel gasped when he saw the private dining room lit by golden sconces, a long mahogany table laid out with polished silverware and crystal water glasses. Everything gleamed like it was prepping for royalty. LaTasha nudged him to keep his jaw from dropping.
“Don’t be playin’ a fool Tyrel.”
“Look at this place babe. It’s got gold stuff.”
“So? Stop clownin’ Tyrel.”
Everyone settled into their usual spots - Ravi next to Nandita, Jorge beside Camila, Tyrel squeezed between LaTasha and Sarah, and Bharath at the head of the table with Marisol beside him. Sarah, unusually quiet, kept stealing amused glances at Marisol like she was bracing for something explosive.
The mood was polite confusion wrapped in gourmet linens when they saw two chairs that were unoccupied. The boys however lost interest in everything else when they saw the baskets of gourmet bread and flavoured butter on the table.
Tyrel exclaimed, “Dang ... this place fancy. Ravi check out the butter dawg. It’s got herbs in it. You seen anything this fancy?”
Jorge nodded excitedly grabbing a few pieces of bread before slowing down when Camila glared at him. Camila however was too curious to chastise him more. She nudged Nandita and Jorge sitting next to her and nodded to the empty chairs.
Sarah reached for her water, fingers trembling, while Marisol’s knee bounced under the table.
Jorge whistled quietly through his teeth while Nandita squeaked. Before they could say anything more Marisol stood as napkins froze halfway to laps.
Marisol cleared her throat.
“Thank you all for coming,” she said formally, raising her water glass. “I know this was a weird invitation, but we wanted a quiet space ... for telling you something important. You guys are our closest friends, in fact you’re family, and we wanted you to hear it first ... from us.”
Tyrel leaned over to Sarah, stage-whispering, “Are we at the part where somebody gets knighted or what?”
Marisol gave him a sharp look. “What? No ... this is serious.”
She looked at Bharath. He gave her a nod, nervous but trusting.
Marisol inhaled deeply. “Our family has grown this past month. Especially ... last night.”
Gasps echoed.
Camila’s eyes went wide. “Wait - what?”.
Jorge crossed himself twice in quick succession. “Dios!”
Nandita squeaked and closed her mouth with her hands.
“Oh no,” Ravi mumbled, slapping his forehead. “I knew it. I knew it.”
“Black Jesus, hold me,” Tyrel whimpered, grabbing LaTasha’s hand.
LaTasha wailed, “Are you pregnant? Is Sarah pregnant? Are you both pregnant? How can you girls be so careless!” She then glared at a shaken Bharath, “And you mister...”
Sarah blanched. “What - no! Not like that! No one’s pregnant! Oh my god - guys, relax!”
There was a beat of relieved silence.
Marisol flushed crimson. “What I meant is ... the throuple isn’t a throuple anymore. It’s a umm ... how do you call it ... more like a hexagon now”
A long pause as everyone wondered what that meant.
“Que? Hexagon? What the heck do you mean? That’s more than two right?” puzzled Jorge as Camila nodded at him equally confused.
Before they could figure out what that translated to Marisol gestured toward the entrance to the room. The noise died instantly as two silhouettes filled the doorway, sunlight haloing them.
“But that’s Zara ... and Ayesha...?”
The gang gasped as they saw Zara strut in like a supermodel in a flowing indigo blouse along with Ayesha in a fitted cream dress. They both looked stunning, although their faces were apprehensive.
There was dead silence as they walked forward and took the empty seats beside Sarah and Marisol - Zara next to Sarah, Ayesha beside Marisol and Bharath.
Jaws hit the table when the girls took their seats.
Marisol smiled, a little nervously. “Everyone, I think all of you know Zara Shah and Ayesha Patel. As of last night ... they’re ... ummm ... part of our family ... Of our harem.”
It was Ravi who gasped first. A full-body, anime-protagonist gasp. “What the...”
Nandita’s fork clattered. “Harem?!”
Camila dropped her knife. Jorge sat frozen mid-chew.
LaTasha choked on her water.
Tyrel leapt to his feet. “BLACK. JESUS.”
Bharath put his face in his hands.
Nandita deadpanned, “Of course. The Prince of Pleasure strikes again.”. She was going to giggle before she caught a dirty look from Bharath.
Sarah, Marisol, Zara, and Ayesha were all trying not to laugh seeing the over the top reactions. Jorge especially looked hilarious with his mouth stuffed full of bread.
“Que diablos!” Jorge shouted as he choked trying to swallow the bread unsuccessfully. “This is real? You’re not messing with us?”
Sarah smiled. “Very real.”
Ravi was holding Nandita’s hand and stammering, “But how? Why? When? And how?”
“Que? But you said hexagon. There’s four of you. Are there five girls?” exclaimed Camila.
“But... five girls?” Ravi’s voice cracked. “Bhai, you’ve gone full anime, man! No one goes full anime! That’s just wrong! What the hell is wrong with you? Isn’t two enough of a challenge?”
Bharath shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t plan this...”
Tyrel was pacing. “Dawg, I been eating ramen noodles and watching this boy become Hugh Hefner with homework! What’s happening? Black Jesus ... answer me!”
“Who’s the fifth?” Nandita asked sharply, still reeling.
Sarah paused and looked at Marisol and then looked at Ayesha and Zara.
“Stop with the tension already! The people need to know. Who’s the fifth?!” screamed Camila.
Bharath cleared his throat. “Umm ... Mia.”
The silence was nuclear. Jorge dropped his glass. Camila just blinked. Ravi and Nandita squeaked like mice and hugged each other for support.
Tyrel spun around and pointed accusingly at no one. “YOUR GIRL’S SISTER?!” Then he realized he was not pointing at Bharath and moved his finger to him.
Ravi was making strangled dolphin noises. “MIA?! The cheerleader Mia?! The one who looks like she walked off the cover of Seventeen magazine?”
Nandita slapped his arm. “Ravi!”
“What? You said she was hot. You said that if you weren’t straight...”
Nandita squealed and shut his mouth causing everyone to break into laughter.
Zara leaned over, amused. “Well, at least we know our taste is consistent.”
The waiter returned, smiling with the calm politeness of someone used to dealing with chaos disguised as affluence. Plates were cleared, glasses refilled with sparkling water, and menus replaced the stunned silence.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Tyrel muttered, “Y’all see them prices? Man, that decimal point can’t be real. It got two digits before the dot. That ain’t food, that’s math.”
Camila laughed. “Relax, baby. You’re not paying.”
“I hope not,” he whispered back, still staring at the menu as if it were a physics problem. “A steak cost thirty-five dollars. Thirty-five! That’s a whole week of groceries!”
Ravi nodded in grim solidarity. “And that salad? Fifteen. For leaves. In Delhi I go to fancy places but at least they cook everything properly for you for that price. Here they just give you raw food and call it a salad. Where’s the masala?”
Marisol smiled sweetly from across the table. “Well, we figured if we’re going to announce something life-changing, we might as well do it somewhere that has actual tablecloths.”
Tyrel leaned back suspiciously. “Uh-huh. But who paying for them tablecloths?”. LaTasha rolled her eyes.
Sarah joined in, feigning offense. “Are you implying we dragged you here to rob you, Ty?”
“I’m just sayin’,” he said, pointing at the bread basket. “This bread alone worth more than my haircut.”
“But the bread’s free.”
“Uh-huh ... that’s what makes this suspicious,” growled Tyrel, as if he had made an important point.
The group burst into laughter. The tension that had been coiled in the air since the “hexagon” revelation began to unspool, replaced by the familiar buzz of friendship.
Camila, now relaxed, set her menu down. “I didn’t even know this place had a lunch menu. I always thought you had to sell a kidney to eat here. These aren’t too bad, right amor? Maybe we should come here for lunch occasionally.”
Jorge choked on his bread imagining his bank account dwindling bringing Camila here more often.
LaTasha smirked. “Maybe Marisol sold Tyrel’s.”
Tyrel gasped. “That explains why I been feelin’ light-headed since we sat down.”
Sarah rolled her eyes, giggling. “Don’t worry, babe. We’re not bankrupting anyone. This one’s on us.”
“Us?” Ravi echoed, eyes darting between the girls. “Bharath doesn’t have that kind of money. Do you bhai?.”
Marisol waved a hand airily. “We wanted to splurge. This is ... kind of a milestone for us.”
Zara leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, you only reveal your harem once to your closest friends.”
“Preferably never again,” Bharath muttered under his breath, earning a chorus of chuckles.
Once the orders were in, the room eased into comfortable chaos. Silverware clinked, conversation bloomed, and the sweet smell of truffle butter and freshly baked brioche wafted through the private dining room.
Nandita looked over her shoulder when the waiter passed by. “Excuse me sir, do you have a vegetarian menu?”
The waiter brightened. “Of course, madam.”
Bharath lifted his hand politely too. “Vegetarian for me as well, please. And for Zara and Ayesha.”
That earned a round of teasing looks from Tyrel. “Oh, so that’s the secret to the harem thing, huh? Celery power?”
Sarah elbowed him. “He’s from India, Tyrel. It’s cultural. Not cosmic.”
Tyrel grinned. “Still thinkin’ ‘bout that price tag. If I gotta pay thirty dollars for lentils, they better sing.”
“They do,” Ayesha said sweetly. “You just have to listen carefully.”
Ravi gasped in mock awe. “See? Even her sarcasm is classy now. The hexagon has powers.”
Camila glanced at Zara. “And what about you? I didn’t peg you for a tofu kind of girl.”
Zara sipped her water delicately. “Oh, both Ayesha and I are from families that are only vegetarian. Like with Bharath it’s more cultural as well.”
Ravi said, “I’d have never guessed you girls were Gujjus. You don’t look it. That said, we didn’t know anything about you girls other than you were snotty. It’s nice to see you girls like this. Somehow you’re more down to earth now.”
Ayesha and Zara teared up a little, “We’re so sorry about how we were before. I know it will take time for you to be friends with us ... but we...”
Sarah got up and hugged them both, “You’re ours now my loves. We’re a family now. Right Ravi?”
Ravi nodded apprehensively and then gave a shout as Nandita looked at him angrily after stamping his foot.
“Okay okay ... you girls are family.”
When the dishes came out, the table looked like an advertisement for the good life.
Bharath’s plate glistened with saffron risotto and roasted vegetables, while Ayesha’s pasta shimmered under a drizzle of basil oil. Nandita had ordered a delicate goat cheese tart with arugula. Tyrel, ignoring every warning from LaTasha, went for the steak frites.
“Man, this thing bleeding,” he whispered, poking it suspiciously.
“It’s supposed to be,” LaTasha sighed. “That’s what medium rare means.”
“Where I’m from,” Tyrel said solemnly, “medium rare means ‘send it back.’”
Jorge’s fork froze midair. “Then send it here.”
Camila smacked his shoulder. “Behave.”
Sarah and Marisol exchanged amused looks across the table. They’d both been giggling every time Tyrel muttered about the butter’s “exchange rate.”
Sarah whispered, “He’s gonna have a heart attack when he sees the dessert menu.”
Marisol grinned. “Let him. It’s his penance for thinking I was pregnant.”
After a few bites and a few more jokes, Camila set her fork down, her expression softening.
“Okay. I need to ask,” she said carefully. “Mia. How long has this been going on? And why didn’t she tell me?”
Her tone wasn’t angry - she just looked hurt.
Marisol sighed, her own fork pausing midair. “Camila...”
“I’m serious,” Camila continued. “We talk every day. She tells me about her outfits, her homework, her school mates, her mom’s weird recipes ... and not once did she mention being in love with him.”
All eyes turned to Bharath, who froze with a mouthful of risotto.
Sarah jumped in gently. “Camila, this wasn’t something that just happened overnight. Mia’s feelings were complicated. She didn’t even tell us at first.”
Zara nodded. “She was scared. I mean, come on, the guy’s her sister’s boyfriend. That’s enough to make anyone panic.”
Marisol straightened a little, her jaw tightening. “She wasn’t trying to hide it from you, Camila. It just ... wasn’t hers alone to tell.”
Camila blinked. “What do you mean?”
“It’s all of ours now,” Marisol said softly. “Our story. Our connection. She was waiting for the right moment to tell everyone. She didn’t want to betray our trust, or yours.”
A heavy silence settled for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of the restaurant’s jazz playlist.
Then Camila sighed and nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get it. I just wish she’d trusted me sooner.”
Bharath spoke for the first time, his voice low and sincere. “She trusts you, Camila. She talks about you all the time. She calls you her anchor. You are her best friend after all.”
Camila’s face softened at that. “She said that?”
“She did,” Sarah confirmed, smiling. “You’re her safe person. That’s why she was so careful. She didn’t want you to think less of her.”
Camila looked down, cheeks pink. “I could never think less of her. I just ... this is a lot.”
Ayesha reached out and gently squeezed her hand. “It’s a lot for all of us. But she’s happier than we’ve ever seen her. And that happiness started with you being her friend.”
Camila’s eyes shimmered. “Okay. That’s ... actually really sweet.”
Tyrel broke the quiet. “So wait, Mia’s not even here and she still makin’ everybody cry? Girl got powers.”
Everyone burst into laughter again, grateful for the reprieve.
A waiter passed by, refilling glasses and discreetly sliding the dessert menus onto the table. Tyrel leaned sideways, peeking over Marisol’s shoulder.
“Please tell me these numbers are jokes.”
Marisol tilted the menu so Sarah could see, both of them biting their lips to stifle laughter. “See that? Eighteen dollars for crème brûlée. That’s like...”
“Ten gallons of gas!” Tyrel supplied.
“Or twelve at QuikTrip,” Sarah added, deadpan.
Ravi nodded gravely. “Inflation hits the heart first.”
Bharath’s lips twitched. He could easily have bought the entire restaurant if he wanted, but he stayed silent, letting the banter roll. The secret of his family’s wealth still felt like a fragile thing ... a truth he wasn’t ready to complicate this new peace with.
Marisol, sensing his hesitation, smoothly redirected the conversation. “We saved up. This is a special occasion.”
Zara grinned. “We even skipped Starbucks for a week.”
“Lies,” Sarah muttered, laughing.
Tyrel exhaled dramatically. “Y’all must really love him if you spend real money for this announcement.”
Marisol lifted her glass with mock solemnity. “For love and lentils.”
“To love and lentils!” everyone chorused, clinking glasses.
After what had just happened at La Rivière, the whole gang silently, unanimously decided: the only proper way to spend the rest of the day was curled up in each other’s company, at the one place that felt like home base for the entire group.
Sarah’s house.
The group spilled across the living room - some on the sectional, some on beanbags, others on the floor with soda cans and pillows. The air buzzed with anticipation, disbelief, and a touch of emotional overload. Everyone was still processing the announcement from the restaurant. Even Tyrel, who’d managed to recover from his “Black Jesus” exclamations, was uncharacteristically quiet.
Sarah dimmed the lights and tossed a few blankets around. The mood felt like a sleepover, except half the room looked like they’d cried at a wedding and the other half looked like they were waiting to cry.
Finally, LaTasha broke the silence.
“Okay. Y’all” - she pointed directly at Ayesha and Zara, who were curled on either side of Marisol like affectionate cats - “owe us some deets. Because that day at the tailgate party? You two were SOBBING. And I mean snotty-shirt, mascara-in-the-collar sobbing. Today? Y’all incandescent like y’all invented sunlight. What happened?”
The room hushed.
Zara and Ayesha exchanged a glance. Then another. They both sat up slowly, the nervousness visible in their shoulders even as they smiled with a kind of fragile pride.
Zara cleared her throat. “First ... before we say anything else ... we want to say we’re sorry again.”
Sarah and Marisol tried to interrupt but Zara shook her head. “No Sarah and Mari. We need to apologize properly. We were bitches and we deserve the apprehension that everyone else her may feel.”
Ayesha nodded, voice steady but soft. “Like - really sorry. For the way we used to be. Bitchy. Dismissive. Stuck up. And honestly? Lost.”
Zara leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “We used to act like we were above everything. Like attention was currency. And the more we got, the more we wanted. Likes. Stares. Gossip. Power.”
“We let men do things to us,” Ayesha said bluntly, voice tight with pain. “Not because we wanted them. But because we thought that’s what we had to do. To stay relevant. To stay admired.”
A silence fell like snowfall.
Even Tyrel didn’t crack a joke.
Zara’s voice wavered. “But none of that ever felt real. Not like this group. Not like you. Something about all of you - the way you laugh together, fight together, care about each other...”
“It made us realize,” Ayesha said, looking directly at Camila, “how fake our whole world had been.”
“And how badly we wanted out.”
The gang were still as they remained silent, processing what Ayesha and Zara were saying. Then Camila exhaled sharply and stood. Crossed the room. Sat beside Ayesha.
“I used to feel like that too,” she said, blinking back tears. “I spent high school starving myself just to stay on the dance team. I thought if I stopped being model thin, I’d not be popular anymore. That no one would find me desirable. It’s not just you.”
Nandita followed, pulling Zara into a hug. “You’re not alone anymore. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
LaTasha knelt in front of Ayesha and took her hands. “Y’all looked so sad at the party. I didn’t know what you were going through. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
Sarah sniffled and slid into the mess of arms and emotion. “We don’t do shame here. We do growth.”
Marisol pulled them all close, voice cracking. “The sisterhood just grew by two.”
They all clung together, weeping and laughing at the same time.
Zara sobbed into Nandita’s shoulder. Ayesha clutched LaTasha like she was the only thing keeping her afloat. Marisol and Sarah cradled them both.
Even Camila, normally the level-headed one, was teary-eyed as she rubbed Zara’s back.
The boys?
They tried to play it cool.
But Jorge was wiping his face with his hoodie sleeve. Ravi was blinking way too much. And Tyrel - arms crossed and lips pursed - was mumbling something about “just allergies.”
After a while, they all settled again - this time in a chaotic cuddle puddle of limbs and throw blankets, with soda bottles acting as makeshift centerpieces. Laughter came easier now. Relief washed over them like spring rain.
Then Jorge, curious as ever, leaned forward.
“Claro que si, but ... you said last night is when everything changed. What exactly happened?”
Jorge’s question hung in the air like a spark waiting to catch.
Zara opened her mouth to speak, but Ayesha gently placed a hand on her arm and gave a small, apologetic smile to the room.
“Actually,” she said, voice even and quiet, “not last night.”
The room blinked.
Ayesha continued, “It wasn’t the tailgate. It wasn’t just last night. That just broke the dam.”
She turned slightly toward Bharath, who instantly looked like he was trying to disappear into the couch cushions.
“It was actually seeing all of you together in a group. Always happy, always there for each other that really got us thinking about ourselves. Zara and I were stuck in this plastic, fake world where we thought attention brought us happiness. But it was when we saw you that we really understood what friendship and love meant. Of course I always regretted treating Bharath the way I did inside. I was jealous and envious of the relationship he had with Sarah and Marisol.”
Zara continued, “Ayesha was in a bad way and I wanted to see if Bharath could speak with her to draw her out of the dark spiral she was getting into. We kind of followed you folks wherever you were just to feel your aura. Then that kind of led us to spying on Bharath and Sarah and Marisol.”
Ayesha said, “The love and affection they had for each other was addictive. We didn’t know why but we were just drawn to it. We couldn’t look away. What really made us believe we belonged was Sacred Tuesday.”
Zara nodded, lips twitching at the memory. “Sacred Tuesday.”
There was an audible rustle as everyone shifted forward.
“Hold up,” Tyrel said, pointing. “Again with the sacred?! Y’all keep dropping that word like it’s a damn church sermon. What happened on Tuesday?!”
Ayesha’s smile was gentle. And deeply conspiratorial. “We ... followed them.”
“Oh no,” Marisol muttered, half-hiding her face in a pillow.
Sarah snorted and coughed to cover her laugh.
Zara leaned forward. “We were trying to figure out how to talk to Bharath - how to apologize. And then we saw them leaving campus, hand in hand. The three of them - Bharath, Marisol, Sarah.”
“And we followed,” Ayesha said. “Shut up, yes, it was creepy, we know.”
Zara raised a hand. “But emotionally necessary.”
The girls all laughed quietly.
“You followed them to where?” Camila asked, brows raised and voice laced with equal parts judgment and fascination.
“Back here,” Ayesha said, without hesitation. “Sarah’s house.”
“Where it happened. Sacred Tuesday,” Zara added solemnly.
Camila threw her hands in the air. “Okay, ENOUGH! Can someone please just tell us what the hell Sacred Tuesday is?!”
The room went silent.
All heads turned toward the couch where Bharath sat wedged between Sarah and Marisol, looking like he’d just been asked to give a talk on tantric sorcery.
He audibly gulped.
Marisol, bless her bold little heart, decided to take the plunge. She sat up straighter and folded her legs under her, her voice soft but clear.
“Sacred Tuesday,” she said, “is when Bharath ... goes full Dom on us.”
The room went eerily silent again. One could hear a pin drop - even on the carpet. And then suddenly it wasn’t silent anymore.
“What?” Jorge blinked.
“Excuse me?” Ravi asked, mouth half-open.
“La - what now?” Tyrel’s eyes practically bugged out.
Everyone stared at Bharath like he’d just admitted to running a secret underground gang with velvet ropes and ceremonial oils.
Bharath opened his mouth, trying desperately to form a rebuttal. He failed.
Sarah just beamed and patted his thigh affectionately. “It’s okay, baby. They need to know.”
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