Dreaming of White ✔ [Completed]

Chapter 4 - Slippery Slope

He never liked to admit it, but Riddhima was the better driver. Especially in conditions like this. Not that they'd ever been in conditions like this before. At least not together. The car crept slowly up the mountain road, Riddhima coaxing it gently around every sharp turn, nudging it carefully up every steep climb, her eyes fixed on a point beyond the frantic movement of the windscreen wipers and the falling snow, face screwed up in a perpetual frown. Her grip on the steering wheel was tight, but the skin around her knuckles had a healthy normal colour. Her back was in contact with the seat and from time to time she even cast a small glance in his direction. Fierce concentration, he noted. Not panic. Or fear.

Which was good.

Because he was pretty close to both right now.

Which was why, when he felt her questioning gaze on him, he pretended he hadn't and kept staring out of the window.

Not that it was helpful.

At all.

Because from his point of view he as staring into the abyss.

Literally.

Once they'd left the valley behind and began the climb up Barnes Mountain, the road had gotten narrower with every mile. The trees, black giants appearing and disappearing behind a whirl of white and grey, seeming to push it further towards the edge of the ridge, until he thought there were no more than a couple of inches left between gravel and gravity.

To distract himself from thinking about the laws of physics and how they might not work in their favour on this instance, he decided to do what Riddhima had done miles ago and finally shed a few layers of clothing.

Well, one layer in Riddhima's case.

Which, Vansh thought, now that he was theoretically "allowed" to look at her more closely again, was rather disappointing. But at least now, in the tight black fleece-jacket he could read her body language more easily than through the thick insulated down jacket she'd been wearing on top of it.

He unfastened his seat-belt and wriggled out of both outdoor- and fleece-jacket with one fluid movement. He was tossing both on the back seat, when he felt Riddhima frown at him.

"What?" he asked, not sure if she was annoyed because he had a) basically committed a traffic violation, b) shed his winter wear far more gracefully and a lot faster than she had or c) because his movements had simply reminded her of his presence in the car.

He suspected it was all of the above.

She turned her attention back on the road, not giving him an answer.

There was an itchy spot on his neck, prickling with the unaccustomed sensation of being fiercely enclosed by fabric. He pushed the high collar of the plain, but suffocatingly tight long-sleeve shirt down and started to absently scratch his itching skin, while simultaneously craning his neck to cast an anxious glance out of the window.

Suddenly the car bucked a little and skidded towards the enemy trees, catching Vansh off guard and throwing him towards Riddhima. Reaching for the edge of her seat, trying to steady himself, his hand brushed her arm and shoulder, then, suddenly, where the soft fabric of her fleece-jacket had been, there was nothing but air and he had to make a very undignified, very uncontrolled scrambling movement to get his body back into a normal sitting position and not land even more undignified and uncontrolled in her lap.

Not that he would have.

When he looked up, she had practically flattened herself against the driver's door.

"Sorry", he said, giving her an apologetic smile, even though he felt like rolling his eyes at her or even yelling "Booh". A few months ago he would have. But then, a few months ago she would simply have given him a rough but well-meaning shove that sent him back into his seat. Pulling away from him like that, was not a good sign. Especially not when she needed to concentrate on driving.