Ruin In Royals (Royal #1: Book 2) | ✔

52

-• rain, rain, go the fuck away •-

Taranya

We walk in silence.

Apart from the crunching of leaves, swaying of the branches and the birds singing in distance, nothing else fills the void. My hand slowly starts to get clammy, and before it sweats to the point he notices, I really want to wipe it to my dress, but then I don't have the courage to hold his hand again. And I badly want to keep holding his hand. It's the least intimacy we can have in reality, because in my dreams, we do a lot more than just holding hands. Like last night, I dreamed of kissing him. Funny, isn't it? Kissing him without a tongue was probably the most innocent dream I've had of him till date.

"Uh," he clears his throat. I look at him. He's staring down at our hands. They're slippery now. Because of me. Because I sweat like a fucking pig.

"Right," I pull away and dry my hand on the skirt of my dress. "Sorry, my hands are warm, so they often get clammy." I make a useless excuse. Seriously, Tara? He's not interested in knowing the anatomy of your body. Shut up.

"It's okay," he wipes his hand on the joggers, then holds it out again. I blink. "The ground is-"

"Uneven."

"Yeah," he nods, "you might-"

"Fall." I completely understand him. My hand slips into his and we interlace our fingers. "Thank you."

He smiles. "You're welcome." He looks ahead, I do the same.

The forest is scarce, it has tall trees and thick bushes, but it isn't dense so I clearly spot the campsite when we reach closer.

"Did you get her back to the campsite safely?"

He hums.

"Where did you find her?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I mean, there's no board around here naming the places, is it? I just stumbled into her randomly." He glances towards me. "On second thought, do you want to see that place?"

"Huh?" I manage to say, taken aback with his offer.

"The sun isn't fully up yet. We might get to see the most beautiful sunrise of our life." He shrugs.

"Careful, Rajawat, you're giving me high expectations." I eye him teasingly.

He tries to hold back a smile but fails. The dimple reveals. It sits in the corner of his lips. Tiny little thing. But it transforms this cold, poker-faced guy into the most boyish, charming man I've ever seen.

"Have I ever disappointed you?" He grins lopsided.

"Oh," I hold up a finger, "A lot of times," I nod.

He chuckles sheepishly. "Not this time. I promise. C'mon," and he tugs at my hand adorably. I give in with a defeated sigh, acting as if I'm doing him a favour, when from inside, I'm dying to see the sunrise he claims to be the most beautiful sunrise of my life.

No, it's not because I want to spend some more time with him. Definitely not because his smile makes me all giddy and jumpy from inside. It's because I'm an artist, a painter. We're nature freaks. We love observing things, people, world, and the littlest details, the flaws and the perfections that makes them.

"Careful," he helps me climb a big rock, but when it comes to stepping down, I tug at the hem of my dress and take a step forward, only for the wind to blow harder and force me to stand back straight.

"Sorry, I should've worn pants or something." I mumble softly.

"It's okay," he comes closer, "I know a good way," he grunts out the last word as his arms slip around my thighs over the skirt, the other wraps around my shoulders, and he effortlessly lifts me off the rock, holding me in the scoop of his arms. I squeak, locking my arms around his neck, my eyes falling close in instinct.