Meet-Cute

05. khayr

k h a y r
AHAMMED

chapter five — ❛ Get in the car ❜
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MUTED RAYS FROM THE MOON SUBLIMELY kissed Khayr's skin, peppering the soft yet sharp contours of his face. Undoing a few buttons of his crisp white shirt, leaving the collars to hang, he ogles the view from his window—it's evening. The dead trees were immobile; leaves refused to bloom despite the summery season. The sky is dappled by the darkness, hues of purples decorating the foaminess.

Craning his neck to his left, he breathes out an exasperated sigh as the thick air tickled his exposed collarbones. Not a single movement could be felt, and his onyx locks remained still while entering his vehicle. Drowsiness seeped through his mind. The faint eyebags under his long lashes proved exactly that.

As expected, the roads are fully packed with numerous cars, each sporting unique number plates. The traffic during rush hour always made Khayr feel dreadful. A fifteen-minute drive would turn into forty-five instead. Clear frustration lingering in the compact space; even the rolled-down windows didn't bring enough refreshment.

He was accustomed to the busy city life, but he couldn't help but despise the tardiness. His family patiently waited for him to arrive, all ready to celebrate his elder sister for giving birth. The only entertainment came from observing the citizens: some talked on their cell phones, and some were too engrossed in texting to even realise that the lights had turned red.

Khayr could only squint upon recognising a familiar silhouette. The artificial lights cast a soft glow mixing with the blur of shadows.

There she is, in all her glory.

It didn't take Khayr too long to lock his gaze on the brown beauty as she stood against the raised walls, leaning against the rough element, possibly scraping the delicate fabric of her blouse—blazer long forgotten. The minimal breeze gently swaying her wispy bangs as she ignores her surroundings. Instead of driving along, he swerves, slowing down to reach back to the entrance of his firm, finding himself coming to a stop in front of her.

"Get in," he curtly says.

Mehr's body shrieks at the sudden disturbance. The hand clutching her bag tightened its hold as her eyes widens once following the direction of the voice. Tilting her head to one side, she cocks a brow, clearly not expecting her mentor to appear. "No, I'm alright, thanks."

Khayr observes the way she drew her lower lip between the teeth, eyes darting back to her phone screen–completely disregarding him.

"Get in the car, Mehr." Khayr rests his elbow on the lowered window, grip tightening on the steering wheel as his eyes narrow at her discrepancy. "How long are you planning on standing out here in the dark?"

Mehr's eyes grew by a fraction once hearing him say her name, as this was the first time she was addressed by it. She picks up the black blazer that lazily hung on her forearm, which camouflaged with her dreadfully tight pencil skirt, and naturally, he allows his eyes to pry over how the expensive fabric that hugged her curvaceous body, lingering at how it clung onto her thighs. Like himself, she sports a shirt, in this instance her being linen white, leaving the top button open, rich golden tan skin peeking through.

"I can call an Uber."

"You're going over to my parent's house, which happens to be where I'm also going. There's no need to waste your money." Khayr rolls his eyes as he watches her scoff at his words.