Nash and Zayela walked through the crowded rooftop market in the Spires district, moving between stalls stacked with fresh fruits and hot street food.
Nash leaned over and tapped the cloth bag of pears hanging from Zayela's hip.
"That thing is going to tear open any second now," he said, grinning as he gave the bag another poke.
She slapped his hand aside, laughing as her black hair swung with the movement. "Shut up. At least I am trying to make real meals instead of eating street food every night like some stray dog."
Nash rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder against hers. "Oh, come on. You just want an excuse to make me sit still long enough for your 'bonding time.' Last time you cooked, it was burnt sludge. I had to eat it just to make you feel better. And then you didn't let me sleep after."
Zayela shoved back harder, making him stumble a step. Her curves looked good in her fitted top and pants, men stealing glances at her, women side-eyeing Nash's tall, muscular frame.
