Royal with Rebel (Royal #2: Book 2)

41

-• why not forever? •-

Sometime later, she finds him lingering at the threshold of his ensuite, hands stuffed inside his sweats pocket, watching her quietly while she reads her book. And his tender gaze defeats the delicate charm of the poetically strung words, becoming the reason for the coy smile on her face. She tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear, feet rustling beneath the sheets, toes curling restlessly, teeth nibbling on the inner bottom lip.

"Stop staring," so she requests, unable to meet his eyes, feigning her attention towards the book.

"You had a crush on me?" Voice quiet, he asks, still in disbelief.

"Everyone had a crush on you."

"I don't care about anyone else."

"You didn't care about me either, back then," she murmurs.

"Now I do." He whispers.

She catches a breath. Aureate eyes dart to meet his.

"Did you-" he takes a deep breath, the question heavy on his tongue, "Did you ever make any man feel as important as you make me do in your life?"

She shakes her head. "Never."

"Why? Nobody tried?"

"Many did," she agrees, "Nobody earned it."

He gravitates towards her. She pulls her knees to her chest, making him space to sit. Settling down, his hand chases her feet and she sighs, his warmth spreading across her veins, her toes wiggling underneath his touch. "You're always so cold," and he gently brings her feet on his lap, rubbing them to generate heat, his hands, as big as they are, envelope her flesh whole, squeezing, caressing, a touch so loving, she drops her head back and closes her eyes.

"When did you grow a crush on me?" He asks, sounding inquisitive.

Rising straight, she closes the book and places it on the nightstand, hands interlacing as she takes a trip down the memory lane, trying to find the moment when her old self found itself attracted to his teenage version. A smile plays on her face as the nostalgia brings back many fond memories along with itself.

"In the fifth grade, I guess?"

His eyes pop out in disbelief. "What?"

She nods, chuckling at his comical reaction. "I was pretty young."

"What did you like about me?"

"I told you, your eyes," she surmises. "the girls were crazy about you. Still are." He shrugs cockily. "But it's your eyes that hooked me in like a fish on a bait."

"How did I not know?"

"You could care less about the girls around you. You were always so focused on your academics and Vivaan."

"Yeah," he remembers, "I wasn't really mindful about my surroundings. Studies and my brothers had all of my attention. But was it any particular moment? Or was it gradual?"

"You caught my eye in the library. Through a book shelf." She narrates, "I was getting myself storybooks to read, and you were there, on the other side of the shelf, our eyes met, not for long, maybe for a split second, and in that split second, I found myself enraptured. Your eyes," she sighs, short on words, "they are- they are gorgeous."

"Thank you," he whispers bashfully, paying more attention to her frozen toes.

"When did this happen?" She asks.

He hums quizzically, looking her way in confusion.

"This," she wags a finger between them, "When did you start to feel for me?"