A Royal Pain in the Ball ✓

Chapter 45 - Not Protesting

They arrived.

The place, was cold. Of course.

As her teeth chattered, while she hugged herself, as she rubbed her arms up and down, as she heard Cain thanking the driver before he slammed the car door to a shut.

The place was beautiful.

Of course, as she was in Russia. Known for its architecture, and its lights.

She looked up. There were hanging lights on a sort of an arch above her, as a welcome peace to the guests and the people arriving.

The lights gave off a serenade hue, a shade of fluorescent yellow, blue and green. A mix as it entangled together and lit up the place, of a concaved arch that was meant to hang flowers and the tangles of vines around it.

She didn't see that much around her, much curious of what was inside, only the lights brightly lit at the place. It ignites the dark hue of the night, perfect sense as a tourist, as she was accompanied by a cold breeze. And she rubbed her arms.
And it was warm. To her.

She didn't know what Cain would think. What he thought of it. As she turned around, seeing the abnormal, stoned expression of a signature of his face as he came closer to her. And next to her that he skid to a stop.

"This is the place. Isn't it nice?"
He glanced down at her.

Is he kidding? Why is he asking her? This is the first, of the best place that she'd arrived, and will probably ever eaten at. And all he said, was it nice? The man got to be joking. He really had that bad taste, huh?

He glanced at her. She almost pouted in protest. "Yes, it is. Now would you please tell me how to skate?" She looked at him bewildered. He did not once tell her how to skate or any tips from such a pro as him, everytime that she asked he would just stare at her as if she was insane, and not answer. The nerve.

And to think that the man was a pro. Didn't even mention the stature or posture of how to skate properly. That did not come up.

She was starting to get worried. What if she fell? Would she catch her or even worry, or would he just skate off all by himself out in the open among the strangers who are merely a pro or are used to the ice cold ground?

She looked at him. Earnestly looking for an answer.

"I'll teach you when we get there." He cleared his throat.

The nerve..

Someday she would choke him on accident. Maybe on an accidental sausage or a prawn he forgot to chew. She looked away, in front of her.

"Of course, once we're on the ice rink.." He continued, muttered, maybe noticing St the disappointed and frowning look on her face. At the end, to which he walked first, before her and she scrunitized her eyes at his back, fit to say, she bore it into his back.

If she could his skin should be sizzling piercing through the ice cold right now.

But that didn't happen. And she followed suit behind him. Tailing him, as she passed by the arch, and how lonely, accompanied by the low, slight crunches of her boots fit for the snowfall of winter, crossing her arms as if protecting herself, and hugging them, seldomly rubbing it up and down to smear off the cold from her nerves and her body.

This man had become daring by the day. And she didn't know if he was starting to become crazy, or if it was her fault.

The lights shining on top of her, as if greeting her with a jimmy, she ignored, the starry stars of the sky she ignored as well. She was not in the mood.