98. The One Where We Both Talk

***

"You're late," I said, leaning back into my red lounge seat.

He glanced at the watch tied around his wrist and I tried not to show any emotion on how he was wearing the watch I had gifted. Why he still wore it?

"Ten minutes, bookworm. Traffic." He settled opposite to me. "You ordered something?"

"Kabir, we're here to talk." Get over everything we have ever had. You being here was messing with my mind, you close to me was making my palm sweat.

He cocked his head to the side. "We've time. Let's eat. Pancakes and Lime soda?"

"Who eats them at this hour? Have you gone mad?" I arched my brows, amused by how he had said the same thing when he had gone out for the first time because I had fainted in the school halls.

Such a long time had passed.

Chuckling, he nodded, "Risotto?"

"Quesadilla for both of us," I smiled wickedly, remembering his hatred for Mexican food. He peered at me for a couple of seconds, hoping I was joking but I shrugged my shoulders and he ordered the same only. "Kabi