Indira's Type

The screen door gave a groan as Indira pulled it open, stepping into Joey Granger's house for the first time. Her head was spinning with the newness of her life in the past few days. Hanging out at popular girl houses. Shopping sprees with a seemingly endless budget. Joey Granger's house!

She knew that she should feel ill at ease with so much change, but she didn't. Madison and Aynsley had been with her every step of the way, and she knew in her heart-of-hearts that they had her back. It was their presence that made her feel safe. She knew that they wouldn't put her in a situation that wasn't in her best interest. They were her sisters, and she was theirs.

The house smelled like lemon and laundry, clean and thin in the air. No spices, no oil, no thick hum of onions frying or cumin blooming in a hot pan. She'd experienced this before visiting her white friends. Oftentimes she wondered how people could feel at home in such a bland smelling environment. It made her feel a bit like she was exposed, standing in a wide-open space.

Back home, everything pressed up against everything else, and not just the smells. Her parents, her two brothers, often her grandmother curled into the small loveseat, all defined a closeness she loved, the intimacy of family. The apartment always smelled like cooked food and soap and life squeezed into too-small rooms. Here, the air seemed to stretch. The walls seemed farther apart.

Indira shifted the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder, her new top brushing softly against her skin. Madison and Aynsley had picked it out—tight, sleeveless, just cropped enough to flirt with her waist. The jeans clung to her in a way that still felt shocking, and underneath, the thin lace of her new underwear was like a secret pressed against her body with every breath.

Madison let out a low whistle, dropping her armload of plastic party cups onto the kitchen counter. "It's so cute," she said, spinning slowly to take it all in. "Like, not mansions and champagne cute, but for real cute."

Aynsley laughed, already peeking around the corner toward the hallway. "Where's his room? I wanna see it."

Indira lingered, fingers brushing the back of the worn leather couch, half-expecting Joey to walk in and catch them nosing around. But Madison caught her hesitation and grinned.

"Relax," she said. "Donna's keeping him busy. And by how excited she was to have her turn, we've got hours."

Indira let herself be pulled after them, the hallway narrowing around her, creaking underfoot. Every step she took deeper into the house felt both exciting and terrifying, like she was getting away with something she shouldn't be doing. Normally a strict rule-follower, Indira was surprised to find how good it was to not care about the rules, to live a little dangerously.

Joey's room was the last door on the left.

Aynsley threw it open without hesitation. Inside, it smelled faintly of boy—deodorant, dirty laundry, the slept-in smell that she recognized from her brothers' room. It was tidy, but not rigidly organized. The bed was made. A battered desk stood under the window, scattered with papers and headphones. A bookshelf sagged under well-read fantasy novels and figurines. Posters thumbtacked carelessly to the walls: bands she didn’t know, a black-and-white photo of a fighter jet, Megan Fox.

It wasn't flashy. It wasn't impressive.

In so many ways Joey Granger was not anything special at all. He wasn't just a normal, boring guy, he was less than that. He was an underachiever, small for his age, not particularly good looking. Beyond that, he seemed to be going through the motions. Elements of his room could have been copied and pasted into a myriad of rooms of boys his age at South Point. There was just no spark of creativity, nothing magnetic, nothing appealing about him.

Aynsley bounded onto the bed, making it creak. "This is where the magic happens," she sang, kicking her feet.

Madison collapsed next to her with a wicked grin. "God, Indira, can you even imagine?"

Indira flushed. "Imagine what?"

Madison tapped two fingers against the mattress. "You. Him. Here." She rolled over to put her head on his pillow and took a deep breath, then, "I can't help but imagine it myself. Joey Granger. My Joey. Our Joey, in his bed, with me!"

Aynsley giggled, rolling onto her stomach.

Indira turned away, pretending to study the bookshelf, wanting to hide the fact that she was sure she was blushing.

There was a part of her, sharp and defensive, that wanted to scoff. Joey Granger? Seriously? Yes, she'd been having some fun with the girls, pretending to be all hot for him, getting the new clothes, playing along because she was on the same side as them, but actually being with him? Impossible.

Just a couple days ago she'd been furious with him! Joey Granger was the kind of guy that, despite the fact that he was obviously not working hard, got everything he wanted. Typical. Of course, now that she understood that Miss Matthews was with Joey, she could support her decision to go easy on him. But at the time she had wanted to throttle him.

And to go from that to actually wanting to be with him? A guy she wasn't even attracted to?

Aynsley propped herself up on her elbows, grinning. "You'd be so good for him, you know," she said, kicking her feet behind her.

Indira ran her fingers over the spines of Joey’s books. She caught a glimpse of herself in the glossy glass of a framed photo—her hair shiny, her top fitted just right, her jeans hugging her hips—and for a second she didn't recognize herself.

She remembered the kind of guys she used to daydream about: clean-cut, straight-A types with broad shoulders who shook teachers' hands and filled out their college applications early. The kind of guys who her parents would approve of, who came from a good family and knew the value of a good paratha. The kind of guys who would support her as she developed in her career, who she could support as they developed theirs.

"I don't know," Indira said, turning away from the bookshelf and looking at the girls, "Joey's more, like, your thing than mine."

She thought about Joey's crooked smile. His careless hair. Maybe there was a subtle cuteness to it, but it wasn't really Indira's thing.

"Our thing?" Madison laughed, "You're one of us now! Indira, believe me, Joey is exactly the kind of guy who would be the best kind of thing for a girl like you, just like he is for me."

"She's not wrong," Aynsley said seriously.

"I was too dumb to see it for too long," Madison continued, getting a far-off look in her eye, "but now that I do, now that he's mine, I can't believe how lucky I am!"

Indira let that sink in. Madison thought she was one of them. One of the hot, popular girls. She'd been feeling accepted by the girls all day, and the day before, but they were insistent that it was beyond acceptance. It was belonging. Indira was one of them. Full stop.

So what did that mean about her and Joey?

Again his image popped into her head, only this time it had her next to him. She was wearing a short, flirty, party dress, smiling at him while he smiled back. He did have a nice smile. It seemed genuine, kind. Her heart warmed slightly.

She crossed the floor and sat carefully on the edge of Joey's bed, feeling the mattress dip. She, too, took a deep breath and enjoyed the smell of the bed - boyish, warm, unmistakably Joey.

Aynsley nudged her. "You deserve a guy who gets it. Who gets you."

Indira found herself nodding. The guys she'd watched before never watched her back. They had their own thing going on. A guy like Joey, though, he was observant. He'd seen the way he watched Madison and Aynsley. What would it feel like if his eyes were on her? If he watched her the same way?

A smile snuck onto her face. She could see it. She could feel it. Indira wouldn't fight over Joey, there was no need to, but she was a hot, popular girl, on the same side as her sisters. If they thought their group needed Joey in their lives, then Joey must be good for her.

"I get it," Madison said, a patient tone in her voice, "I didn't see it at first either. Joey's, like, always been around. But I never noticed. Now he's all I notice. You really need to get with him. He'd totally be into you."

Joey Granger. Disorganized, shambling, lazy, cute, charming, magnetic Joey Granger.

She was the kind of girl who needed Joey Granger in her life.

"Okay," she said, her voice steady.

Madison's smile widened, bright and proud.

"Come on," Aynsley said, grabbing her hand. "Let's decorate."

They tumbled out into the hall, laughing, arms slung around each other's shoulders.

Indira caught her reflection in a mirror near the front door: a girl with sleek hair, new clothes, and a gleam in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

A girl stepping into the life that had been waiting for her.

She turned from the mirror, her heart beating high and fast in her chest.

She was ready.