And Then It Rained (Sequel to Rain Again; Stand Alone Book) (Completed)

Chapter Twenty: His Worry, Her Humiliation and the Return of the Indian Prince

And she limped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Inside the confines of four walls, she moved the handle of the faucet and put her shaking hands underneath the running cold water. Not moving her hands from the water, she lowered her elbow at the edge of the sink and rested the front of her head on the mirror in front of her. She remained in that way for a while before sprinkling water on her face. 

Her foot burned, and her head throbbed in the middle.  As she looked down, she could see that, truly, blood had made a large red spot on her jeans. 

Sighing, she removed her jeans carefully, hissing when the punctured part of the clothing precisely on top of her wound refused to detach. Blood had somewhat solidified over there. Pouring some water on it made baring the wound possible. She was only in her old grey shirt and black panties as she sat down on the bathroom floor. From the bathroom cabinet, she had taken out disinfectant, which she sprinkled on her wound. The disinfection process burned more than the wound, and she groaned without realizing herself. Thankfully, this cut was not big like the one on her other foot.

"Are you alright?" came Victor's worried voice from the other side of the door. 

Victoria didn't bother to reply. She didn't have any wish to speak to him, at least tonight. He had a way of hitting her nerves. 

It was quiet for perhaps a couple of seconds before he was frantically knocking on the door. "Why aren't you answering?"

Her mouth gaped as she stared at the door. Second, by second, it was becoming more evident—this man had a screw loose in his head somewhere.

And suddenly, he wasn't knocking anymore. 

The door and the entire frame holding it shook with the force of what felt like a whole adult rhino was being thrown across it—repeatedly. 

"What the bloody hell!" She bellowed, groaning and shooting up to her feet. "What the hell are you doing?"

As soon as her voice sounded, everything stopped again. 

"You haven't fainted!" he sounded relieved.

Someone was going to get killed tonight. 

Huffing and limping to the door, she twisted the knob and threw it open. "Can't a person be in the bathroom in peace for five minutes, huh?"

"I thought—" he was saying, but then he went mum as his eyes took in her entire form and zeroed in on her bare thighs. 

He was not looking away, making Victoria suddenly recall her incomplete state of clothing. As her eyes widened, Victor finally looked away awkwardly.

"Oh—" she gasped, limping off toward the bedroom as all her clothes were in there. And Victor had already seen her bare half anyway, hadn't he? 

She got into her long t-shirt that came down to her mid-thighs fast.

On the bed, she sat at the edge to take a few breaths to calm herself. 

Victor was a walking anxiety attack—she concluded.

And he confused her a great deal—going off at her as he saw her as the most disgusting creature on planet Earth and then turning into this overly worrying guy, fussing all over her injuries. It almost felt like—like, he cared. It felt like he cared for her as he would for any of his friends—Ellie, Kate... 

Shaking her head, she dropped it into her hands.

Nah. He would never care for her as he did for Kate. 

Kate had a special place in Victor's life. Victoria was almost sure of it, and she smiled sadly into the closed space of the palms of her hands. 

The next morning, Victoria rubbed her eyes with the back of her slender fingers, waking up sluggishly by the sparkling rays of the sun. She turned her face away from the window and sat up. Her t-shirt had crawled up in sleep and had exposed a decent part of her panties. Glancing at the ajar door, she quickly pushed the end of the t-shirt down to cover her modesty.