Sayesha got Rohan

5. I love/hate bike rides

✨POV : SAYESHA✨

The wind whips around us as he speeds through the empty streets. My arms are wrapped tightly around his waist, my body pressed flush against his back.

He must be able to feel my breath, warm against his neck. "Hold on tight," he shouts over the roar of the engine.

"Will you please slow down a little?" I ask, horrified almost, by the speed of bike. I never knew he rides it this deadly. It feels like this is going to be the last day of my life.

He slows down slightly, but only slightly.

"Scared, Sayesha?" He teases me, his voice muffled by his helmet. He glances at me in the rear view mirror, and I know my face is pale, my eyes wide with fear.

"Relax, I've got you."

My eyes are almost teary because of the cool air hitting my bare skin. I should have wore more clothes. Shit hell.

We reach a quiet lake-side road. He stops the bike and I blow out a sigh of relief. Thank fuck.

He parks the bike and helps me off. I almost stumble, my legs unsteady from the ride. On the right time, he catches me, his hands firm around my waist.

"Steady there," he murmurs, my face inches from his. "First bike ride?"

I nod my head, trying to take off my helmet. I've been on bikes - my scooty to be precise, but this, this is purely different and so- adventurous.

He reaches out and gently removes my helmet, his fingers brushing against my soft cheeks, giving me goosebumps all over my so cool skin. My hair is mussed from the ride, falling in wild curls around my shoulders. I probably look like a piece of shit, vulnerable and I really don't know why he is staring me.

"Better?" he asks, his voice gentler than before.

I nod my head, completely flushed.

"Let's walk," he suggests, nodding towards the lakeside. "Unless you want me to carry you." he adds teasingly.

I look at him with my probably pale eyes while I rub my palms against my bare skin of hands because I'm feeling cold.

I think he sees me, notices me because his next act is-

Without a word, he unzips his leather jacket and wraps  it around my shoulders. "Here, " he says, his voice gentle. "You're cold."

"You don't n-need it?" I ask, although I'm grabbing the jacket tightly around my shoulders and I'm sure I'm not giving it back to him.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm fine."

He is obviously lying, because he is rubbing his palms together, but his tshirt is full-sleeved, he can manage without the jacket, right? Selfish me.

As we walk along the lakeside, we spot a small tea stall set up under a makeshift tent.

"Chai?" he asks, nodding towards the stall. I hesitate for a moment before nodding, my teeth chattering softly.

He smiles, "Sit, I'll get it."

I don't sit, instead I stand by the railing of the lake, rubbing my palms, watching the lake. It's foggy. The lake is barely visible, but I like it. There's silence. Utter silence. It's peaceful here.

I turn around and watch him approach the stall and talking to the uncle in the shop.

The elderly man starts preparing it with deft hands, the aromatic smell filling the air. Even after probably ordering the chai, he stands there and talks with the man. The man says something and both of them burst into laughs. Rohan pats his shoulders and he is talking to the man as if they know each other since ages.