Her nostrils flared, and his gaze dropped there.
“Sorry, Doctor.”
“Stop calling me that if you want them to believe you,” Ritu handed over the money and received confirmation on her phone. She pushed out and he made space for her.
“Allow me,” he began to round the car to the dickey when she got out with her one and only duffel.
“I’m good,” she held it up.
“That’s it?” He asked.
“One day. How much do you think I need for one day?”
He opened his mouth.
“Scratch that, how much do you think anyone needs?”
He smirked. And after the momentary shock of the moment, Ritu found her mouth tipping too.
“You look very…” she paused, “normal.”
“I wore all my jewellery, then ditched it for the check-in.”
She sputtered. Then glanced up. His staff was gaping at them like they were aliens.
“Why are they looking at us like that, Mr. Patel?”
“Nilay.”
“Huh?”
“I do have my friends call me Mr. Patel but only in chosen fantasies.”
“Yuck!” She scoffed, and his smirk widened into a laugh that he tried but couldn’t stop.
“Can I carry your bag?”
“It’s not that heavy.”
“I still insist.”
She passed it. And then realised that she had. When had a man offered to carry her bag before this? She began to reach out and pull it back when he shifted it to his other hand. “I am allowed to carry weight, aren’t I?”
“That’s not even weight,” she bit back a scoff. “It’s a change of clothes.”
“Ooof,” he pretended to huff.
“Where is your bag?”
He pointed with his chin at his staff, as she had guessed. A line of trolleys.
“Come here, Doctor,” he pressed his hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the Uber’s way.
“Ritu.”
“Right. Come.”
They ascended the steps to the same wide pairs of eyes.
