Redemption of Royals (Royal #1: Book 3) | ✔

8

My phone vibrates in the front zip of the backpack. I take it out.

BF (Bitch Friend): we're going shopping today, you remember right?

Me: I do. I'll be done in five. See you in that cafe across your campus street.

BF (Bitch Friend): there are many. be specific.

Me: I don't know it's some cafe with cute bells and brown wallpaper all over. It has got all cowboy vibes going for it.

BF (Bitch Friend): got it. alright, Tarun is here to pick me up. I'll see ya in the cafe.

I put the phone back down and grab my backpack from the floor, exiting the classroom quietly to change. The glass door of changing room swings close behind me when I'm done. I smile at the receptionist on my way out. She waves me bye.

Honestly, I needed Tarun to give me a lift today. Because God, I'm aching all over. But Janet's car broke down this morning, a good opportunity for Agastya to rub it in her face, which he did not miss, so I had to drive her to the University and Tarun had to pick her up, given I'd be busy with my dance classes.

Surprisingly, Tarun has seamlessly fit in our friend group, if you can even call it that, and made it a perfect trio. He's that cute gay best friend every female lead has in romcoms, except that he's not Gay and not a bestfriend but hopefully, we can change that soon.

Agastya was also very happy to see him. Turns out, before I came to the palace, Tarun used to run most errands for Agastya and they bonded well over that. He didn't like the fact that Tarun is still single, but the boy cleared up he has no interest in me, never did, and therefore he's not a "threat". Yes, he called himself a threat. I still shake my head in amusement remembering that conversation.

Throwing my backpack in the backseat of the car, I get inside and turn on the ignition. The engine comes alive with a satisfactory whir and I pull the car out of the parking lot.

London gets pretty busy in the late evenings, so the traffic moves quiet slow. I tap my fingers on the wheel, nodding my head to the bollywood number that booms inside the car. A regular bloke next to me rolls down his window, earning my attention.

"That's some amazing music, what it's called?"

"Uhm, bollywood classical?" I shrug.

He smiles, bobbing his head to the beats. "It's eccentric."

"Yeah, it's got all tablas and flutes and sitar playing in it."

"Oh, it's a classic." He realises.

"Pretty much." I nod. "It's from the 90s."

His brows shoot upward. "You can never go wrong with the nineties and seventies. No matter which part of the world they belong to."

"True."

"Good to see young ones like you appreciating the old classics. I'd love to get your Spotify playlist but it's late and I'm heading that way," he points to his right. "Have a great evening."

"You too. It was nice talking to you." While my car moves ahead, his deviates to the right at the crossroads.

I reach the cafe shortly after. Cutting off the engine in the parking lot, I get out and carry my phone along with me inside the cafe.