'What's wrong, Em?' asked David as he took Emma's hand into his.
'Nothing,' she replied and looked down, poking her food around.
Emma was in his house, sitting before him with a forlorn expression on her face. He didn't want anything to spoil their evening. It had been a few weeks since she had been at his home. And after days of staying away from her, being with her was the most beautiful feeling.
'Don't give me the "nothing" crap, Emma,' warned David and brought her palm close to his lips. 'What happened, doll?' he asked, brushing his lips against her knuckles.
'I have been writing ... you know ...,' faltered Emma as she tried to find an appropriate word, '... a romantic story ...'
'Really?' asked David, his gaze curious. 'You didn't tell me ...'
'You were too busy last week, Dave,' justified Emma as she looked at David. 'The story got posted a couple of days back ...'
'And?' asked David as he bent forward and ran a finger across her cheek.
'They hate it,' blurted out Emma, jerking her face away from his touch. 'Nobody likes ...'
'Em, listen to me,' said David gently, pulling his chair closer to hers. 'Baby ...'
'Don't tell me that it doesn't matter,' she said loudly and walked away towards the couch.
David looked at her as she settled herself on the couch and wrapped her arms around her. He knew that she was an excellent writer. Hell! He always got hard reading her stories. But maybe something was missing in the story or may be someone was too hell bent on making her feel worse. Not anymore ... He would make sure that she knew what a good writer she was and how good her stories were. Making up his mind, he walked towards the couch with a pair of wine glasses and a chilled bottle of red wine.
'Scoot up,' he said as he settled down on the couch beside her. 'Here,' he said as he offered her a glass of wine.
'Thanks,' she murmured and cradled the glass carefully.
'Do you want to talk about it?' asked David after a couple of minutes, his gaze on the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Emma moved closer to David and laid her head on his shoulder. He pulled her close, taking the glass away from her and setting it down on the coffee table.
'I don't feel like writing anymore,' she said softly, voicing her thoughts aloud.
'Why?' he asked as he stroked her back.
'Every time I sit down to write something, their comments flash before my eyes and I ... I ...' struggled Emma.
Sensing Emma's distress, David pulled her into his lap and cradled her close to his heart.
'Don't do this to yourself, Emma. You know that whatever they say is all bullshit. You aren't as bad as they say you are,' said David before dropping a kiss on her forehead.
'You are the only one who says so,' murmured Emma as she looped her arms around his neck.
'I don't think so. Many people like what you write, Em,' said David as he ruffled her hair. 'I am just one of the many people who like to read what you write.'
'Will you read the latest one?' asked Emma as she turned in his arms, so that she faced him. 'Tell me how bad it is.'
'Come on, baby. It can't be that bad,' said David as he placed her on the couch and stood up. 'I will be right back with the laptop and a quilt.'
'I am not cold,' protested Emma.
'You are, Em,' David chuckled and took her hands into his. 'They are ice cold,' he said as he brushed his warm lips against them.
'You are warm enough,' she remarked shyly and ran a finger across his soft lips.
'You are too bold for your age,' he said as he walked towards a closet and retrieved a duvet.
'You talk as if I am a baby,' she said on a pout as he handed her the duvet.
'You are just 22, Em,' said David as he walked towards his bedroom.
As he walked back towards the couch, Emma asked back. 'And what are you? 40?'
'Fine, Em. You win,' he said as he settled down on the couch and switched on the laptop. 'But I am 28, Em and ...'
'Yeah, so?' she asked, raising her eyebrows. 'That doesn't make you a grandfather.'
'When did we meet, Em?' asked David as he pulled her close and draped the duvet around her.
'2 years back, as far as I remember. But why?' she asked as she waited for the laptop to boot up.
'You were 20, baby. And at that time, you looked too young to be called my girlfriend,' he said and tweaked her nose.
'Says who, huh?' she said as she entered the URL and searched for her story.
'I love you, Em,' said David sincerely, her heart swelling with emotion and making her feel precious, loved and cherished.
'I love you too, Dave,' said Emma and she cupped his face and pressed her lips against his. 'And here you go,' she said as she handed him the laptop with her story on the screen.
'Because I still Love you ...,' read David aloud and looked at her questioningly. 'Sounds heavy,' he said and looked back at the screen.
Emma watched David as he read her story. The concentration with which his brows were creased, giving him a little rugged look, his forearms looked strong, his fingers hovering over the mouse pad as he skimmed through the story. She saw his eyes smile as went through the conversations in the story ... which were much similar to theirs. The usual bantering over nothing, the cuddles, the hugs, the kisses ...
'Em?' his voice reached her, pulling her out of her dream world. 'Em?'
'Yes, Dave,' she said as she turned towards him. 'Did you read the complete story?'
'No, just the first chapter,' he said and pointed towards the comments. 'Some are good. But ...'