Page 41 of Writing Mr. Right

He lifts his head and blinks a couple of times. “Yeah, sure,” he says absentmindedly, then he puts on his own jacket and nods his head toward the exit.

We bid everyone goodbye, then step outside. It certainly is December, because a biting breeze sinks into my cheeks the second we’re outside. I shiver, then instinctively move to the right to absorb some of Aashiq’s warmth, but I just meet more air. My frown deepens, and I look ahead to see Aashiq’s hunched back walking way ahead of me.

Oh, no. Is he upset again? I didn’t say or do anything mean this time. I quicken my pace to catch up, then tap him on the shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I didn’t have fun tonight,” he reveals, his words short and frank.

“You didn’t?” I question. “But I thought you loved karaoke.”

“Ido,” he stresses. “But I didn’t get to sing.”

“You could’ve joined one of my songs,” I tell him. “I would have had such a great time with you.”

“Colin and Eugene didn’t sing, so I didn’t, either,” Aashiq grumps. He scrunches his nose in distaste. “You said to act like them, so I did what they did. They talked about finances. They talked about golfing and their cars. They even talked a bit about their own families. And they didn’t go up for karaoke. I did what they did, even though I didn’t know about finances or golf or cars, and I don’t even have a family. And Ireallywanted to go up for karaoke.”

Guilt lines my throat. “Oh, Aashiq,” I breathe. “About that, I—”

“I don’t like how I acted today.” His hands linger at his sides instead of in his pockets, and red tinges his skin. “You asked me to do it, so I did it, but I didn’t like it.”

I stay quiet, because it sounds like there’s more he wants to say. We walk in silence for another minute or so before he speaksagain. “The longer I’ve been out in the real world, the more I’ve started to realize that sometimes being a person means you have to behave in ways you don’t want to. Maybe you have to be nice to someone you don’t like. Maybe you have to skip out on a gathering because you have to work. And maybe you have to present yourself to others in a way that makes you feel wrong.” He raises his chin. “I don’t like how I acted today.” He turns to me, and pain flickers in his eyes. “Why do humans act like that?”

My face warms, and I huff out a long sigh. “Most of the time it’s to appease other people and not make things awkward,” I reply.

“But then what’s the point?” he asks. He tilts his head back up, his gaze on the sky above us. “What’s the point of any of this? If you can’t be who you are all the time, where’s the fun in being a person?”

“I guess…all of that is part of being a person,” I muse. I follow his line of sight. It’s extremely difficult to see real stars with all the smog and light pollution, but they’re still there, and that’s what matters. “Figuring out who you are or who you want to be doesn’t just stop. You’re always discovering new likes and dislikes. And part of that is deciding how you want others to perceive you, even if it’s not who you actually are. Which, I guess, is pretty messed up.” I regard Aashiq, whose focus is still on the sky. Stella said Aashiq looks at me like I’ve got the stars in my eyes, but the real stars are in his. The real glow comes from how he interacts with the world. From his joy, his excitement. His discovery of who he wants to be. And I dimmed those stars tonight.

“Sometimes youdohave to act in ways you don’t want, but this wasn’t one of those times,” I tell him, which finally prompts him to turn to me again. “I’m sorry for asking you to pretend to be someone you’re not. And I won’t ask you to do it again.”

The ease returns to his face. “Thank you.” He jerks his chin forward. “Can we please go home now? My shoulders hurt from acting so stiff all night. How do Eugene and Colin do it?It’s like they’re walking around with someone pressing something into their back. I mean, good posture is important but—”

He keeps rambling all the way back to the apartment, but I don’t interrupt him even once.

20

I tap my pen against the reception desk. It’s a surprisingly slow workday; usually this time of year we’re slammed with familial disputes because the holidays tend to ramp up tension in domestic lives, but the phones have been silent and the inbox quiet. The office is empty, too; the lawyers are all in court, Stella is out sick, and Faye is on vacation, so it’s just Aashiq and me here.

Speaking of Aashiq, he’s pacing unsteadily behind me. He’s been doing it for at least ten minutes, too, so I know he’s about to burst.

Right on cue, he stops in place and tosses his hands to the sides. “We should find something to do.”

I lounge comfortably in my chair. “I rarely get a free moment, so I’d rather use this time to relax.”

“Come on,” he presses. “I know I’m here to help you with your writing, but I can help with other areas of your life, too. Like your day job.” He circles around my chair and crouches down next to me. “You’re trying to get a funding package for law school, right?”

I frown. “Yeah…but I asked Colin about it already, and he’s given me the brush-off.”

“Then that’s where we take initiative!” Without warning, he saunters down the hall and pokes his head into the office spaces.

Crap. I scramble out of my chair and follow him. I don’t know what he’s searching for, because no one else is in today, but once when I left him unattended in the office, he broke one of the door handles. Colin wasn’t very happy about it, and I had to pull out all the stops to persuade him to keep letting Aashiq come into the office. “Aashiq, there’s no one—” I start as I round the corner, but I abruptly come to a stop next to him.

After I take a second to collect myself, I realize the person standing in front of us is Joe Hamada, our litigation attorney and one of the top lawyers at the firm. With his tall stature, sturdy build, and salt-and-pepper hair, he’s a super intimidating guy. I steer clear of him because he’s the type who is always busy, and because of that he doesn’t have the time to be inconvenienced. Plus, his usual assistant is out for the day for a family emergency, so he must be extra annoyed. He, like me, tends to avoid contact with the rest of the office, but in my case,Iavoid other people while other people avoidhim.

Aashiq, however, has no concern for work politics. He gives Joe a friendly nod. “Hey, Joe!” he says. “What are you doing here? I thought it was just me and Ziya in the office today.”

Joe returns Aashiq’s zeal with wrinkled brows. “I was popping in and out,” he explains quickly. “When I came in, there was no one at the front desk, so I assumed you were taking a break.”

“Where are you headed, then?” Aashiq asks.

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