She gasps. “That is slander.”
“It is observation.”
She writes another one quickly.
You laugh like you didn’t expect to.
I pause for a second before writing my next sentence.
You make my days easier.
She reads it. Then looks up at me. Neither of us says anything for a moment.
She clears her throat first and closes the notebook. “That game escalated quickly.”
I shrug. She stands and wanders toward the shelves. Her fingers trail along the spines absentmindedly. “You know,” she says, glancing over her shoulder, “this might be the first date in history where people insult each other through stationery.”
“I thought it was romantic.”
“It was extremely threatening.”
She stops near one of the tall shelves and tilts her head upward.
“I want to read that book.” She reaches up on her toes. Doesn’t reach. Then notices the rolling ladder beside the shelf. Before I can say anything she’s already climbing it.
“Divya—”
“What?”
“That thing moves.”
“I noticed.”
She climbs two more steps. “Let me do it.”
“Why so you can make fun of height?”
"I could do that without all this too." I chuckle. She narrows her eyes at me as she reaches the top shelf and pulls out a book triumphantly.
“See? I can do it.”
Then she starts climbing down. Halfway down she misses the next step. Not badly. Just enough to make her wobble.
Her hand shoots out instinctively. I catch her around the waist before she can lose her balance completely. Her feet hit the ground a second later.
But I don’t let go immediately. She’s very close now. Close enough that I can see the faint crease that appears near her mouth when she’s trying not to smile.
“Well,” she says softly, “that was embarrassing.”
“You nearly fell.”
“I did not nearly fall.”
“You absolutely did.” She exhales a small laugh.
“My hero.”
“Don’t mock me.”
