Page 9 of Writing Mr. Right

I roll my eyes and go around him. “You’re not right,” I insist.

I hear footsteps trailing after me, so I quicken my pace. “Come on, Ziya!” Aashiq calls. He falls into step next to me. “Can’t you entertain the idea that you’re doing the wrong thing in giving up?”

There’s a hot dog vendor on the corner, so while I wait for the light to turn green, I step toward him. “Excuse me,” I say to get the vendor’s attention. He makes eye contact with me and nods for me to go on. I point my thumb backward at Aashiq. “Can you see the guy following me?”

He peers over my shoulder, then furrows his brows. “There’s someone following you? Do you need me to call somebody?”

I drop my hand. “No, it’s okay,” I say. “Thanks anyway.”

The streetlight turns green and the little white stick man glows, so I cross the street. Aashiq is still on my heels, and when we reach the other side of the street, he asks, “Where are we going?”

I side-eye him. “Work,” I reply.

“What do you work as?”

“If you’re a part of me, shouldn’t you know what I do for work?”

“You’d think so, but when it comes to you, I only know about your artistry,” he explains. “Everything else is fuzzy in there.” He points to my head.

I frown at the action and push his hand away. “I’m a legal secretary at a law firm.”

He wrinkles his nose. “That sounds boring.”

I grit my teeth. “Well, it’s how I earn my living,” I say. “It’s the only thing I’m going to focus on from now on.”

“But what about writing?”

“I was never a full-time writer before I decided to give up,” I answer. “I live in New York, and I need money to pay my bills. Writing was always something I didafterwork.”

Maybe writing distracted me too much and that’s why Colin won’t fund my JD. I always finished my work within the nine to five hours, but perhaps I could arrange to do more, and that’ll really show Colin that the firm should fund my education. At this point, between getting published and getting a law degree, the latter seems more likely. I just have to work harder.

We reach my building, and as I wrap my fingers around the handle, I turn to Aashiq. “Now, will you please leave me alone? This is my workplace, and I can’t have anything go wrong here. The last thing I need after being an emotional train wreck last night is to lose my job.”

I head inside without waiting to hear an answer, but as I enter the elevator and turn around to face the door, relief washes over me when I realize I’m well and truly alone. My spine rests against the wall, and I tip my head back. When I reach my floor, I savor one last moment of serenity before I scurry out.

I pull the door to the office open and run in. All the lights are on, and Stella sits behind my desk, fiddling with something on the computer. My shoulders relax a touch; at least it’s Stella and not Colin. If it was my boss, I might as well kiss my education goodbye.

My heels screech along the hardwood floor as I throw myhands on top of the desk. Stella startles but raises her head. “I amso sorryI’m late!” I apologize before she can say anything. “I forgot to set my alarm last night and I’ve had a weird morning—”

Stella waves me off. “It’s fine, Ziya,” she assures me. “You’re always on time so I figured if you were late, there had to be a reason. It’s not even that much past nine.” Her long bleached platinum hair swishes as she stands up from the chair. “Plus, Colin’s not due to come in until the afternoon, so you’re good. No one’s called in, and I sat at the desk in case anyone needed help.” Stella walks around the desk and heads to the hallway that leads to the offices. “Unless you need anything else, though, I’m gonna get back to work.”

“No, I’ve got it.” I peel my coat off. “Thanks, Stella. You saved me.”

“No worries,” she calls as she leaves.

I drape my jacket along the back of my chair. That was cool of her. I’m not really friends with any of my coworkers, but I work closest with Stella because she’s the records clerk, so whenever I need to find a file for one of the paralegals or photocopy information, I go to her. We don’t talk outside of work—and we barely talkatwork when it’s not work-related—but it was nice of her to cover for me.

I plop into my chair and pull myself closer to the desk so I can get to work.

The morning passes without much fanfare. I answer emails, greet clients, and mail out some important legal documents. I keep checking over my shoulder, expecting to see Aashiq standing there, but to my relief, I remain blissfully alone as I go about my day.

After I drop off some photocopies to one of the attorneys, I sit back down at my desk. I’m about to open a Word document when a presence looms over my shoulder, and this time I’m not startled when I turn my head and see the side of Aashiq’s face next to mine. At this angle, I can clearly see the hard, definedline of his jaw. I also catch a whiff of leather and lavender wafting off his neck, which you’d think is a strange combination, but coming from Aashiq it smells quite…nice.

I swivel my head to confirm no one else is around before I whisper-hiss, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s lunchtime,” he answers, a chipper tone to his voice. “You need to eat.”

“I told you to leave me alone during work,” I berate. I tilt my head to the side. “Actually, I told you to leave me alone in general.”

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