Chapter 7
In Which Garba is Danced

"I don't get it," Kate scowled. "Who did you invite to garba?"

"All of them!" Edwina replied with a sunny smile. "Daphne was super excited about being able to borrow one of my lehengas."

"Edwina, you're like, two feet taller than her," Kate pointed out.

"She could borrow my blouse and one of your skirts," Edwina amended cheerily.

"That makes sense-" Kate said, glancing down at her relatively well-endowed chest.

Mary waltzed in just then, looking like the model's mom that she was in a floaty kurta top and leggings. Out of timing concerns, Kate and Edwina had already donned their school uniforms- indeed, the only discernible difference in their attire were the bindis on their forehead ("You need to look somewhat acceptable before God," as Mary told them).

"You got your books ready, girls?" Mary said, carefully placing an array of tools, from a hammer to cooking utensils in front of the gods. Kate held up her statistics textbook, and Edwina gestured to her philosophy book, as well as the iPad she'd added in for good measure.

"Kate, what about your flute?" Mary asked.

"Wouldn't putting it here require me to still be playing it?" Kate pointed out dryly.

"Good point," Mary said with a shudder, presumably remembering the horrific few years Kate had ostensibly began learning to play the flute. Suffice to say, there had been actual tears of joy the day she decided to quit.

They placed their books in front of the altar, and Mary began fussing over the various religious paraphernalia while Kate and Edwina lounged on their living room sofas.

Kate suddenly remembered the issue at hand: "But why is Anthony coming?" she quietly whined to Edwina. "Garba is like, our thing. A sister thing," she added emphatically. This was not wholly true- Kate and Edwina went multiple times during every Navratri, and sometimes brought friends along too, but for Anthony-freaking-Bridgerton to be encroaching on her turf like this-

"Because I thought it would be fun," Edwina told her. "And Simon's coming too."

"Who's coming to garba?" Mary asked over her shoulder.

"You know my friend Daphne, Ma?" Edwina said. "Her and her boyfriend Simon, and her brother Anthony."

"My archnemesis," Kate clarified as if anyone in the household didn't already know who he was.

Edwina merely rolled her eyes, while Mary shrugged- well, she did an approximation of it while she carefully touched up on the rangoli.

"I don't know why you're bothered, Kate," she said. "He seemed like a good boy when I met him."

Good boy? Good boy was a descriptor reserved for unassuming Asian boys who would be called that for the rest of their lives by Asian mothers, even once they were married and had their own kids. Not for smooth-operator white boys who went through a slutty phase by sophomore year, then proceeded to date the most notorious senior in school (while he was a junior ), and was now chasing after her sister!

"When did this happen?" Edwina asked, tossing an extremely un-Edwina-like smirk at Kate.

"We were working on a project," Kate replied, a touch defensive. "You were in Milan, I think. He came over. Ma fed him and he liked it, so I guess he has her loyalty forevermore."

Mary laughed liltingly. "Have a little faith, Kate. I'm not so easily bought. We chatted for a bit, and I thought he was the decent sort. Clever."

Before Kate could come up with several counterexamples to those deeply -misinformed points, Edwina broke in.

"Exactly," she said sweetly. "So I thought it would be nice to invite them to garba. Especially since Anthony and his friends been so inclusive of us of late, I figured we could take them out and show them a bit of our culture."

Ugh, this was unfortunately true, no matter Anthony's ulterior motive in hanging out with Kate of late (read: Edwina).

"Well," Mary sniffed from beside them. "Not our culture, exactly. Garba is more Gujarati than anything."

Kate and Edwina exchanged knowing grins. Mary had lots of Thoughts on North Indians and their general hegemony in the perceptions of Indians abroad. "You're such a snob, Amma," Kate said affectionately.

"Not a snob, just proud of our culture," Mary smiled, lighting the last of the brass lamps. She then gestured for them to place their books in front of their various idols and paintings of gods and goddesses, and they decorated them with flowers, haldi, and kumkuma.

The three of them took a moment to admire Mary's handiwork. Neat, abstract rangoli designs swirled across the bottom of the shrine, while every idol or painting was adorned with fresh marigolds and jasmine. The flickering flames illuminated off the bronze and brass, setting the entire shrine aglow in a warm light.

"Shall we start?" Mary asked, breaking the silence. They took the seats on the floor, cross-legged, and Mary pulled up the appropriate prayers on her phone.

Before they began, Mary turned to Kate. "This is an important year for you, Kate," she said seriously. "Saraswati is the goddess of wisdom, so I want you to pray today that all your academic wishes and dreams are fulfilled."

"Yeah, I will," Kate nodded. She suddenly felt the weight of this moment, this niggling sense that maybe her future could be made in the next few minutes. Perhaps it was silly to think this (after all, it was sustained hard work that got you into college, not momentary wishes), but Kate was a believer, and now was as good a time as any to believe.

They started the puja, and Kate bowed her head and pressed her palms together before repeating the ancient words after Mary.

Approximately twelve hours later, Kate found herself in the Bridgerton's car with Edwina, Anthony, Daphne and Simon, being chauffeured across the river instead of taking the train or an Uber like she and Edwina usually did.

Daphne had decided to give them a head start on getting a headache by finding a playlist of Gujarati folk songs on Spotify and blasting it loudly on the car's speakers while she enthusiastically bobbed along. She was wearing a vibrant, multicolored ghagra choli with the dupatta tied in a fashion appropriate for garba, courtesy Kate and Edwina's combined clothing, plus a little costume jewelry pilfered from Mrs. Sharma.

The three girls had gotten ready together at the Sharma apartment, while Simon and Anthony had loitered around the living room, waiting for them. Kate had emerged first, ready to go and eager to escape the clutches of her sister when she was brandishing a mascara wand (Kate was definitely more of an eyeliner girl).

Simon had been summoned to help Daphne with, well, something, leaving Anthony alone, staring at his phone when Kate arrived. He'd barely taken note of her first, his gaze downright respectful despite the bare expanse of her waist, or the generous amount of cleavage her blouse put on display.

But here's the funny thing: Anthony Bridgerton's most interesting reaction had been when Kate had turned around, probably to grab her phone or something, and she'd unwittingly shown off just how backless her blouse was, in that it was little more than a series of intricate lacings that went down her back and covered exactly nothing.

When she turned back, Anthony was staring at her, slack-jawed.

"You good?" Kate asked him, wondering if he'd (finally) lost the ability to speak.

Anthony stammered out, "The- Sharma- your back -"

Kate laughed and gave a little twirl. "What's the matter?" she teased. "Too scandalous for your Puritan morals?" Her brows furrowed. "Or was it Presbyterian?" she asked no one in particular.

To this, Anthony replied something very incoherently, presumably which WASP-y religious sect he actually belonged to, that Kate couldn't be bothered to clarify.

Just then, Edwina and Daphne flounced out of the bedroom, ready to go, and Anthony had no problem complementing Edwina on her outfit, just as easily as he was able to complement his own sister. They'd quickly left after that, piling into the Range Rover, and now here they were, sitting in silence, minus the upbeat garba music.

"Aiden Mccormick asked me out," Edwina announced all of a sudden, probably to break the stillness more than anything. Kate couldn't help that her gaze darted over immediately to where Anthony was sitting, just as he said, "He's a dick."

Kate frowned, looking between them. Was there a good reason for Anthony's instant dismissal of the other guy? Or was it jealousy? Actually, why had Edwina brought up Aiden in the first place?

Before Kate could voice any of this, Daphne said thoughtfully, "I always thought Aiden was cute, in that softboi kind of way."

"Is that a Thing?" Kate asked dubiously. She was deeply suspicious of any monicker ending with "boi".

Edwina rolled her eyes good-naturedly and told Daphne, "Kate probably doesn't even know what that means. She's practically a social media grandma."

Kate, feeling personally victimized, said defensively, "Just because I think TikTok rots your brain-"

"-See?" Edwina cried, pointing an accusatory finger at Kate. "You're so behind on the times. You probably think girlboss is still, like, a good thing."

To this, Kate replied, "Hey! Even I know girlboss is everything that's wrong with white, corporate fake-feminism."

"Which Atlantic article did you read that in?" Anthony muttered to her, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge (mini fridge!) located conveniently next to him.

Daphne scoffed loudly at her brother. "You're one to talk. You're like, the biggest grandpa. A nerdy, cranky grandpa who still gasps all scandalized when I post bikini pics on Insta."

Simon said consideringly, "That checks out. I can imagine Anthony in twenty years waving a cane and yelling get off my lawn at little kids."

Anthony, true to form, gasped, scandalized. "Et tu, Brute?" he asked his best friend dramatically.

Kate cackled at this. "Brutus was always an honorable man," she pointed out, and Anthony opened his mouth, hopefully to extend the metaphor, but was cut off by Edwina, Daphne, and Simon crying in unison, "NERDS."

Anthony deflated.

"It's alright, Anthony," Kate said, mock-consoling, "we can be hopeless nerds together ."

She patted him on the back in a show of mutual commerisation, and Kate wondered if she was imagining him shuddering at her touch, almost imperceptibly, before relaxing and leaning in.

"For the record," he murmured to her, "I'm more annoying that they think I'll be a grandpa in twenty years."

"True," Kate nodded seriously. "That would require far more procreation on your part than any of us are comfortable with."

Anthony choked on his sip of water.

Thirty minutes later, they were standing in the heart of Little India, watching hundreds of dancers move to the beat of loud folk music blaring over the speakers. Thousands of lights illuminated their glittering attire, and seemed to light up the night sky. In the midst of the dancers was a large statue of Durga, reminding people that even as they danced garba, they honored the warrior goddess.

Just then, the song changed, and Daphne whooped loudly as she jumped into the circle, dragging a good-natured Simon and a laughing Edwina along with her. Within minutes, Daphne had gotten the steps and was enthusiastically leaping and twirling with the best of them.

"Wow," Kate said, impressed. "She caught on real fast."

"We took lessons," Anthony said vaguely, his eyes not straying from the dancers.

"What?"

"Well, in ballroom dancing," he amended. "Mom insisted. Said something about deportment."

Kate grinned. "So what's stopping you?" She jerked her chin towards Daphne and the rest of them. "Go show me that deportment, or whatever."

Anthony eyed her skeptically. "I don't see you jumping in."

"I can dance!" Kate said, on the defensive.

"Prove it, Sharma," Anthony goaded

Kate scoffed. "I've been doing this for years . The real question is, can you do it?"

"Watch me," he smirked, and before she realized what was happening, two of them had jumped into the frey.

It was exhilarating being among this crowd once more. Kate looked forward to this every year without fail, cherishing the nights spent dancing away under the moonlight with hundreds of other people just like her.

The steps themselves were fairly repetitive- a lot of spinning, skipping, and sweeping arm movements as they went in circles, round and round and round. There was a devotional aspect to it, certainly, as they circled the garland-shrouded idol of Durga over and over. Even among the loudly enthusiastic hordes, Kate found that repetition almost meditative.

Well, she usually did.

Tonight was different. Amidst the loud music and laughter and all the dancers, she was never more aware of Anthony.

She was never more aware of his proximity to her, or the fact that for some reason, she kept looking over her shoulder to see if he was still there, and he was , still dancing, tentatively at first as he mimicked the people around him, and then more surely. Kate would have been impressed had she not felt so… well, something. Disconcerted? Disquieted? Dis-

She was in the middle of mentally reciting synonyms when she felt his hand (it was his- she was sure) brush against her bare back, warm and brief.

She inhaled sharply, reeling from the ghost of his touch for a solid minute until she realized it was probably an accident- yes, an accident, courtesy of being so close to one another in this crowd.

And so she kept on dancing. She danced and danced and danced, pausing briefly to observe the arati before dancing again, and Kate didn't realize how much time passed until Anthony tugged her aside.

"We should probably get going," he muttered in her ear, his warm breath fanning against her neck, and it took everything within her to remain still and not skitter away. "It's almost midnight."

How had it been hours, already? She must have really been caught up- in the dancing, that is.

She forced herself to face him now that they were on the outskirts of the dancing and saw that his cheeks were flushed with exertion and his dark eyes seemed to be gleaming, and there was this stray lock that fell over his forehead that was rather adorable (not that Kate noticed).

"Yeah," she told him. "Yeah, we should."

Because who needs balls or school dances when you can have traditional Gujarati folk dancing on those Jersey streets amirite? There's nothing quite like it- people of every background (not just Gujaratis or even just Indians) gather every night to dance during Navaratri, a festival that dedicates nine nights to celebrating the Mother Goddess.

And thank you all for the lovely reviews! For more, check out my AO3 which is also hptriviachamp, or my tumblr, which has the same name as well.