Chaos Theory - Kamala Shastri's Final Act

Scene 4

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"Fcking shit!" 

Kamala muttered as she stretched on her tiptoes to reach a book on the top shelf. "Why are these books always kept at such fcking heights?"

The library's narrow aisles were lined with tall shelves packed with books. The racks formed a tight maze, with polished wooden sides and metal brackets making the space feel cramped.

Her fingers brushed the spine, and she was almost there when a hand reached out and grabbed the book.

"Thanks for the—"

What's he doing here?

Kamala turned, expecting to see a helpful stranger. Instead, Derek D'Souza stood there, casually holding the book with a nonchalant expression. "You're welcome."

Kamala blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Can I have it back now?" she asked, extending her hand. Derek held the book just out of reach.

"What the—" Kamala widened her eyes.

 "You need this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kamala nodded.

Derek smirked slightly as he held the book high while Kamala tried to snatch it. "I need it for my assignment."

Kamala's frustration peaked. "Great. So do I. Now give it back."

But he only held the book higher in the air.

She stared at him in disbelief, laughed dryly, and made another attempt.

Why is he fcking tall?

As Kamala reached for the book again, stretching on her tiptoes, she lost her balance and nearly toppled into him. In a quick move, he caught her by the shoulder, steadying her before she could fall on him.

They were still close, squeezed between the tightly packed shelves in the narrow aisle and Kamala could now smell his scent—a lingering mix of cigarettes and smoke, with an unexpected freshness—minty and clean—and a hint of something nice, maybe spices? Kamala blinked and stepped back quickly, pushing his hand away.

Was I sniffing him just now? What's wrong with me?!

"D'Souza, you're unbelievable," she huffed. "Is this how you get through life—by snatching things and acting like you're doing a favor?"

 "I'm on a deadline," he said coolly. "Find another book."

"There isn't another copy," Kamala snapped, her voice rising. "That's the only one."

He glanced at her briefly before turning away. "Not my problem."

"I don't care. I need it too. You can't just take it."

"Watch me." He smirked at her as he walked away.

What does he think about himself? He gets the rank and books too. What an asshole.

Kamala watched Derek stroll away, her fists clenched in a mix of anger and helplessness. Then she made up her mind. She stomped after him, shoved him roughly with her shoulder, and shot him a murderous glare. "I'm going to outscore you on this paper, even without that stupid book," she spat before turning on her heel and walking away.

Derek watched her retreating figure and then at his aching shoulder. What does this girl eat?

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