Together Forever

Chapter 8

Anika' POV

It was only the second day of practice, yet it felt like we had been dancing for an eternity. The choreographer seemed determined to perfect every single move, pushing us harder with each passing hour. I couldn't help but think,

It's not even our wedding!

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the choreographer clapped her hands together and announced, "Okay, that's it for today. Now, you two practice on your own. Please work on your coordination—you've got to improve."

With that, she left us alone, leaving the echo of her instructions hanging in the empty space.

I sighed in relief and reached for my water bottle, taking a long drink to soothe my parched throat. Just as I was recapping the bottle, I heard Uday's voice behind me.

"Can I have some?"

I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you have your own bottle?"

He shook his head, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "No, I forgot it."

I hesitated, clutching my bottle closer. "The water is sipped," I warned, hoping that would dissuade him.

"I don't mind," he replied, still smiling.

"Well, I do," I shot back, my voice tinged with exasperation.

"Are you going to keep me thirsty now?" he asked, his tone playful but with a hint of teasing. "If so, I might just collapse during practice, get dehydrated, and then what will happen to our dance?"

I rolled my eyes, unable to keep a small smile from tugging at my lips despite myself. "Stop this drama and here, take it," I said, handing him the bottle with a sigh.

Uday's grin widened as he took the bottle from my hand, his fingers brushing against mine for a brief moment. "Thanks," he said, his voice softening just a touch.

As he drank, he paused and said with a teasing smirk, "This water tastes a bit too sweet, almost like it's been flavored by whatever you just drank."

"What the hell, Uday? Do you have any idea what nonsense you're spouting?" I snapped, glaring at him, though I couldn't deny the flutter in my chest at his words.

"When you're in front of me, it's bound to happen—I just lose my senses."

Flustered, I quickly snatched the bottle back from his hand. "Let's just focus on practice now," I muttered, trying to divert the conversation before he could say anything more. But my heart was racing, and I couldn't ignore the way his words lingered in the air between us, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else.

I was about to stand when he extended his hand to help me up.

For a moment, I hesitated, but then I placed my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch. As I tried to get up, my balance faltered, and I ended up stumbling into his chest. The sudden closeness caught me off guard, and I could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat mirroring the rapid pace of my own.

Embarrassed, I quickly pulled back, muttering, "Sorry."

"I don't mind," he replied softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the flustered feeling creeping up on me. We resumed our practice, but each time his hand brushed against me—whether it was on my waist, my arm, or guiding me through a step—I felt a spark, a tingling sensation that made it impossible to ignore his presence. My focus wavered, the simple dance steps suddenly feeling more complicated with every touch.