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When Fatima arrives twenty minutes late, spluttering apologies, cheeks pink with frustration, OA can’t hold back his smile, or resist teasing her. “You grew up in Los Angeles, how can you get lost in New York? It’s a grid system!”
Throwing him a dirty look, Fatima shakes her head as she says, “Shut up. Besides… I’m here now, right?”
She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly as she lays her hands on his chest and presses her body against his and he smiles as he slips his arms around her waist, bringing his lips to hers as he murmurs, “You certainly are.”