The fire was almost out when Simran went into her tent, her lips still felt tingly from Alzan's kiss. She couldn't fall asleep easily; her body felt alive and wouldn't calm down, as she kept thinking about how his mouth tasted like smoke and fire, and how his hand felt so natural on her leg. Every time the fabric touched her skin, she remembered and felt a longing.
Morning arrived quickly. The forest was wet with dew, and the waterfall made a constant loud noise. Birds made sharp noises in the quiet, but a clear and strong tension was also present.
Simran came out, stretching, trying to act like nothing happened. Alzan was already awake, kneeling by the dying fire, pushing the hot coals with a stick. When she came out, he looked up, his brown eyes meeting hers, shining with a knowing and risky playfulness that only she understood.
The side of his mouth turned up slightly. A small, secret, and suggestive smile. Their own thing.
Her stomach did a flip. She instantly felt hot, and her lips were still sensitive from the night before.
But before she could say anything, Junaid came out of the trees carrying a lot of small sticks. His black shirt stuck to his chest because of the wet mist, and his hair was pushed back and messy.
always stayed on her at first, lingering. It was heavy, sharp, and searching.
"Morning," he said, his voice quiet and raspy from sleep, but with a hidden sharpness. He quickly looked from Simran to Alzan and then back to her. It was as if he had just understood a joke he didn't know about
Simran's pulse spiked. Did he know?
Alzan leaned back on his elbows, completely unbothered. "Morning, Khan," he drawled lazily, rolling her last name on his tongue like it meant something more. "Sleep well?"
"Didn't hear much sleep from your side," Junaid shot back smoothly, but his eyes never left Simran.
Her throat tightened.
Zain shuffled out of his tent then, yawning, quiet as always. He glanced between them once one sharp, unreadable look before settling by the fire. No words, but Simran swore he knew.
Junaid brushed past her more than once, his arm grazing hers, his chest ghosting her back when he reached for supplies. Each touch deliberate, daring. His smirk every time made her knees weak.
Alzan noticed. Of course he did. And instead of backing off, he doubled down, tugging at her wrist to hand her things, leaning in too close when showing her how to fold the tent, his voice a whisper meant just for her: "Careful, sunshine, your blush is showing."
By midday, the tension was unbearable.
At the trail's edge, Junaid fell into step beside her, close enough that his knuckles brushed hers with every swing of their arms. His voice was low, silk and steel. "Something's different."
Simran's breath caught. "Different?"
His eyes cut sideways, dark and smoldering. "Between you and him."
Her stomach dropped. "You're imagining things."
The smirk that curved his lips was dangerous. Perverted. Knowing. "Am I?"
He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Then why can't you even look at me without fidgeting?"
Breakfast was made, bags packed, laughter forced. On the surface, it looked normal to see three boys and a girl breaking camp by the waterfall. But every little thing twisted the knife deeper.