Page 70 of Lessons in Chemistry

“Not quite. We were wondering if you might be interested in a different arrangement.” Auggie curls his upper lip. “That sounds so formal. The kind of thing a bank manager might say.” He shudders.

I can’t help but laugh. “What kind of arrangement?”

“Eat before it gets cold,” Auggie says.

“Auggie cooked it,” Emory says.

I arch an eyebrow. It smells better than a takeaway, so I’m eager to taste it. “What arrangement?”

“Eat first.”

“You’re going to keep me in suspense?”

They nod.

“Now you’re ganging up on me.” I don’t protest any further, mostly because my stomach will rebel if I don’t give it some of this wonderfully aromatic food.

I eat a poppadom with a dollop of chutney. The poppadom is right, crispy, and melts on my tongue. The mango chutney is unlike any I’ve ever had before. The flavours explode on my tongue. I close my eyes and groan.

“You made all of it?” I ask once I’ve washed it down with some water.

Auggie grins and nods.

“Wow. Why are you doing a pharmacology degree? You should be training to be a chef.”

Auggie looks away, jaw clenched.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch a raw nerve.”

“It’s fine. My parents insisted I do pharmacology so I can follow in Dad’s footsteps and take over the family business one day. He owns the pharmaceutical company that my granddad founded.”

“That sounds like his dream, not yours.”

“Bingo.”

I want to hug him but stay where I am because I doubt it’s appropriate to hug my best friend’s boyfriend. They are boyfriends now, right? Not that that explains why they’re cooking for me or what arrangement they want to propose. I’m confused, but I do my best to hide it by eating more food.

I eat some of the cauliflower next, which is incredible, and then the korma. It tastes as good as it smells and has the familiarity of eating at an Indian restaurant, except there’s an underlying taste that elevates the dish. I can’t place it. I assume it’s to do with the mix of spices Auggie has used. I forget for a few minutes how weird this is and that they wanted to talk to me as I eat.

“I didn’t realise you had such a big appetite,” Auggie says.

“Swimmers burn lots of calories,” Em says.

“Sorry.” I don’t normally blush, but heat is rising into my cheeks. It’s probably not due to the spices in the curry.

Auggie waves his hand. “It’s fine. I’ll know to cook more next time.”

“Next time?” I can’t figure out why he’d cook for me again. “Isn’t this a one-off? A get-to-know-my-best-friend’s-boyfriend kind of deal. Which isn’t necessary. I sort of already know you, and I’ve given you the don’t-hurt-my-best-friend speech.”

Em widens his eyes. “You have?”

“He has. It scared me. With those swimming muscles of yours, you could hit like a truck.” Auggie rubs his jaw, wincing as though imagining me punching him.

I don’t let him in on the fact that I’ve never hit anyone in my life or that I probably wouldn’t start with him, even if he did break Em’s heart, which he’d better not do.

Em blushes. “That’s so sweet. But no, this isn’t what you’re thinking.”

“It’s not?”