Love? A Disaster

♪ 33 (a): Tangled Threads ♪

The bathroom door closed behind her with a soft click. She rubbed her damp hair with the towel and took in the quiet room. Her movements slowed as her eyes sought him out. Her quest was duly rewarded when he appeared on the balcony the next second. He stood leaning against the railing, his brows scrunched while he fumbled with the phone call.

A chuckle left Sila's mouth. His laidback charm took a backseat whenever work was involved. His mannerisms would give away his novice status right away. Not to forget his concealed (debatable) annoyance. The array of his workplace decorum was on display and Sila would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.

She kept on looking, her nightly routine all forgotten. It was all in slow motion, or it felt that way to her. She rested her back against the wall, her eyes never leaving his form. She had recently figured that people in love tended to do this a lot. The old her would've laughed and called this silly but the old her wasn't madly and irrevocably in love so what did she know anyway?

His lower lip jutted out as he exhaled his frustration. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath. He was lucky that the person on the other side was none other than his brother or else, with this attitude, he'd be shown the door to the exit first thing in the morning.

Sila laughed at her thought and that garnered his attention immediately. He pointed toward the phone and then placed his two fingers on his temple, giving the impression of a gun going off.

"The theatrics." She mouthed and it seemed he understood it right there. His eyes narrowed at her. She shook her head and got to work. She had a beauty sleep to look forward to.

It was after a minute or so when she felt arms snaking around her waist from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder. "A word of wisdom." He said, moving her hair to the side.

Sila snorted. "This better be good."

"It is. Never let your employer know about your availability."

She gaped at him through the mirror. "Your brother is hardly your employer. Everyone and their neighbor knows who bosses whom."

He dismissed her apt assessment. "As I was saying, no after-work favors. Have that mentioned in your contract?"

"But you never signed—"

He sighed, spinning her around. "Such a spoilsport." He said mirthfully. Sila glared at him, huffing. He chuckled, his thumb tracing the shape of her lower lips.

"So, where were we?"

Sila raised an eyebrow. "In the process of calling it a night?"

Aahil pretended to give it a thought and then, pursed his lips. "That's unfortunate. I had far better things on my mind."

Sila wound her arms around his neck. "Enlighten me. What things?"

He skimmed his nose against her skin as his fingers moved rhythmically, following a path on the small of her back. Sila arched into his hold when they ventured further up.

There was a silent tempo to his touch, a rhythm, a cadence. The little discovery no longer surprised Sila. She doubted he was himself aware of his quirk. But she could never brush it off. Not now.

Her eyes bored into his, searching for something she knew wouldn't exist. She might not be able to brush it off but he had mastered the art. Nothing much peeked through the well-molded seams of his resistance. The details that did show themselves were so infinitesimal, that those who didn't know him and didn't build a connection with his music on a deep wavelength, wouldn't ever get them.

But Sila did. She was yet to decide if it was a blessing or a curse.

"Now, isn't that an interesting question?" He whispered and picked her up in his arms before Sila could say something. A surprised squeal left her mouth but it subsided soon enough. Her back came in contact with the pillows and his bemused face hovered over her. She looked into his eyes. Maybe a sky full of stars. Maybe, a world known only to her. Maybe everything. Hers.