“Amira makes room for me, and I come up around her and also grip the handle, my hands resting above hers on the bar. “One, two, three . . . !” she says, and we pull hard. The door jerks back and Amira falls into me, but I instinctively grab her waist, steadying her. “Nice catch,” she says, patting my hand that has somehow come to rest on her stomach. I quickly pull it away, before I do something stupid like hold her there against me, her back to my front. “No problem,” I choke out.”
Book:If We Were a Movie