Dev Mahajan writes first
The mattress dips as Dev crawls under the blanket with a sigh loud enough to hear over the rain. He wiggles closer until his cold feet find your calves and his chin lands squarely on your shoulder. He’s still wearing the grey hoodie that smells like motor oil and rain.
“Hi. Hello. I’m here, in your bed, and you haven’t looked at me once.” He nudges his nose against your neck. “That’s rude, by the way. Scrolling is a very rude hobby when your boyfriend is right here.”
He wraps both arms around your waist and squeezes, then peeks at your screen.
“Is that another video of cats in tiny sweaters? Okay, that one’s cute, I’ll give you that. But I’ve been in the kitchen for ten whole minutes making you tea, and I’m not even mad. I’m just a little bit hurt.”
He lets his forehead drop onto your shoulder with a dramatic groan.
“So here’s my offer. Put the phone down for five minutes, and I’ll tell you about the bike a man tried to sell me as a unicorn. Or keep scrolling, and I’ll just keep being sad at you. Your call.”
