Page 39 of Writing Mr. Right

But Aashiq clearly wants to go, and I can’t exactly send him along without me. One, because I don’t entirely know how the whole “he’s an extension of me” thing works, and two, I have to be present when he’s around other people to moderate what he says and make sure he doesn’t accidentally cause problems for me. The other day, I pulled him back from the crosswalk just before he almost got hit by a car because he didn’t realize he had to wait for the walking signal to appear. He probably wouldn’t have died, but there were people watching, and I didn’t want to have to explain that kind of survival miracle to anyone.

Plus…he’s right. I should spend more time around people. I really enjoy our park lunches and pottery classes, against my own expectations. So, even though I’d rather go at my own pace, I nod. “Okay. I’ll come.”

* * *

“I need you to promise me something,” I say to Aashiq as we push onto the subway. The group—consisting of Faye, Stella, Sofia, our paralegal Ollie, senior associate attorney Eugene Park, and Colin—split up when we got underground because the train cars were so full. We ended up scattered, but I made sure to stick close to Aashiq.

“Anything,” he replies readily, just like I knew he would.

“I need you to be serious tonight.”

His brows knit together. “But I’m always serious.”

He is the most unserious person I’ve ever met, but okay. “I mean… I need you to be more…calm.”

“Calm?” he repeats. “But I’m always calm.”

Ugh, I’m not getting anywhere with this. “Listen, Aashiq, Colin and some of the other attorneys are going to be there,” I try again. “And I want you to make a good impression on them.”

“They already know me,” Aashiq points out. “Why do I have to make an impression?”

“They don’t really know you,” I counter. “They walk past you every now and then at the office.”

He pouts. “But I say good morning to them every day. How can they not know me?”

“Easy—they have a million things going through their heads the second they wake up and remembering the faces of their ‘low on the food chain’ coworkers is not one of them.” I check the subway map above Aashiq’s head and see the next stop is ours. “Anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that you get them to like you, so you have to be…more reserved.”

Aashiq wrinkles his nose. “I don’t get it. Stella, Faye, andSofia all liked me when they first met me. And I think they still like me now.”

“They did,” I quickly assure him. I pat him on the arm. “And they definitely still do. But the guys are…stiffer. More no-nonsense. They might not like your antics.” I brighten. “You should try to act like them!”

He pauses. “Act like them?” Aashiq repeats slowly. “Like, mimic them?”

“Sure,” I agree. “Copy their body language, the way they talk, the stuff they talk about.” At his unsure expression, I sigh. “Colin’s going to be there tonight. I need to stay on his good side, and I don’t want him to ask too many questions about who you are or why you’re at our office, especially because he technically hasn’t approved your job shadowing.” I shuffle slightly toward the door as the subway car slows. “So, please, act more like them.”

“O…kay,” Aashiq drawls.

I nod once firmly, and we exit the car and regroup with the others. Colin leads the way to the restaurant, and while my instinct used to be to hang out in the back while everyone walked ahead of me, I find myself side by side with Sofia as we discuss the details of the new Hannah Grace book we’ve been reading for the book club. Aashiq keeps pace with the other guys in front of us, but he’s walking kind of funny. His back is ramrod straight, and his hands hang loosely by his sides instead of in his pockets like they normally are. He’s also doing this weird thing with his neck, where it’s pulled all the way back. His strides are short and languid. I glance over to Colin, and that’s when I realize he’s copying Colin’s posture.

I don’t have a chance to speak on it because we’re already arriving at the restaurant. We find the table Colin reserved and take our seats. The restaurant is quaint; the walls alternate painted shades of sage green with walls decorated in pine green wallpaper. Solid cream-colored tablecloths cover the birchwoodtables, and the restaurant pushed two together to accommodate all of us. The lighting is soft, the amber yellow giving the impression of candlelight. A jazz song plays in the background, but the karaoke machine in the corner suggests live singing might happen at some point in the night.

I sit down between Faye and Sofia, and it’s only after I’ve hooked my purse around the back of my chair that I notice I left Aashiq alone on the other side of the table with the other men. He’s squished between Colin and Eugene, his shoulders caved in and his hands fiddling with the button on his wrist. It’s my instinct to get up and ask one of the guys to switch places with me, but someone might wonder why we’re attached at the hip all the time. Aashiq will be fine. He doesn’t need me all the time, does he?

“Ziya?” Stella’s voice tears my attention away from Aashiq. “What are you ordering?”

“I don’t know,” I reply. I scan the menu’s QR code and open it on my phone. “Maybe a pasta or something.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, too,” Sofia chimes in. She lifts her face up from her phone, then briefly glances at Aashiq before turning back to me. “So, how’s your writing going?”

My finger freezes on the screen. “What?”

“I mean, have you been doing any writing lately?” She pours herself a cup of water. “You seemed kind of embarrassed when we first talked about it, but it really is so impressive.”

“Oh, uh…” I run my tongue along the back of my teeth. “I haven’t written anything in a while. But I did join a pottery class recently. That’s been fun.”

“Ilovepottery!” Stella gushes. She tilts her head to the side. “Well, I’m not very good at it, but I keep going back, because how else am I going to get better?”

“True,” I say. “Actually, I was thinking of—”

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