Bridging Hearts

5. You Really Don't Like Me, Do You?

Her

The next morning, I was up early, lacing my sneakers for a jog along the scenic banks of the Hooghly River. It was my sanctuary, my way to escape and clear my head. Unfortunately, today it looked like my escape was going to be tainted by Dante's presence.

As I headed out the door, there he was, looking far too composed for someone who had just woken up. Great. Just what I needed.

"Morning, Petardo," he said, his tone annoyingly chipper.

"Why are you up so early?" I asked, trying to hide my irritation.

"Thought I'd join you for a run," he replied with a smirk. "Figured it's about time I experienced your whirlwind pace firsthand."

"Fine," I said, my voice clipped. "But try to keep up."

We started jogging, and I immediately set a brisk pace, hoping to leave him behind. But, to my annoyance, Dante kept up effortlessly. The man was infuriatingly fit.

"So, what's on today's agenda, Tour Guide Tara?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Surviving this run with you is challenge enough," I replied, my voice laced with mock sweetness.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Don't tell me you're already tired."

"I'm not the one struggling to keep up," I shot back.

He chuckled. "Fair point. But I have to say, Kolkata in the morning is quite something."

I rolled my eyes. "Glad you can appreciate it through your grumpiness."

"Who's grumpy?" he retorted. "I'm just trying to survive your 'energy'."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I quipped.

We continued our run in silence for a bit, the only sounds being our footfalls and the distant hum of the city waking up. But of course, Dante couldn't keep quiet for long.

"So, tell me, what's the plan after this?" he asked, barely winded.

"Breakfast, home, shower, and then you can kill yourself for all I care," I replied, not even bothering to hide my annoyance.

He laughed, an infuriatingly pleasant sound. "You really don't like me, do you?"

"What gave it away?" I said, my tone icy.

"I don't know, maybe the constant eye-rolling," he replied with a smirk.

"Maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I wouldn't have to," I shot back.

"Touché, Petardo," he said, still annoyingly calm.

We reached the end of our run at a picturesque spot along the riverbank, and I stopped to catch my breath, pretending I wasn't as exhausted as I felt. Dante, on the other hand, looked frustratingly composed.

"Not bad, Petardo," he said, stretching his arms above his head. "You managed to keep up."

I shot him a teasing grin.

"Well, you did pretty good for your age, Mr. Grump."

Dante's smirk faltered, and a flash of annoyance crossed his face.

"For my age? Really?" I shrugged, enjoying his reaction.

"Just saying, you might want to pace yourself. Don't want you pulling a muscle or anything."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I think I'll manage just fine, thanks."

We walked to a nearby café for breakfast, a cozy place with a view of the river. I ordered my usual mishti doi and kachori, while Dante, predictably, went for something bland and safe.