You Flower, You Feast | A One Shot Book

entertainer

Zayn

I can't believe I still haven't asked her out yet.

Staring at her right now, I'm mentally punching myself in the gut for being so shy that I couldn't even ask my co-worker out on a date. I know she's way too out of my league, she's gorgeous, but she'd never go for a guy like me.

Her smile lights up the room, and her eyes, God. Her gorgeous hazel eyes are almost green in the sun. If I stare long enough, I'm sure I could drown in them.

"Zayn, did you hear what I said?" Her soft-spoken voice rips me away from my thoughts. I shake my head, snapping out of the daze I was in and smiling half-heartedly at her. I shook my head in denial, "sorry, must've zoned out."

Riley grinned, chuckling lightly. Her lips were in a luscious red color, and it's such a bold choice for her, but it suits her nonetheless.

Riley Harlow, beautiful auburn hair, almost red under direct sunlight. Her hair brings out the hazel in her eyes, the contrasting colors complementing her tan skin.

"As I was saying," She spoke, eyes trained on mine before going back to the manuscript on her desk. "It looks like we won't be able to finish this tonight," I could see her shoulders drop at her own words, "What do you say we go over it at my place? We could pull an all-nighter?"

Her place? She wants me at her place?

I bring my hand to the back of my neck, rubbing it to ease the anxiety that I know is coming.

I've never had the best luck when it comes to girls. In high school, my first kiss was with a girl who was a foot taller than me, and I had to step on a brick just to reach her lips—it was embarrassing.

Going to Riley's place would surely mean our transition from co-workers to friends. This is the first time I'm going to see her outside of work, and I'm nervous.

"I-uh," I stutter on my words, not wanting to sound too eager, but not wanting to sound uninterested as well, "Sure, I guess?"

"Perfect! We'll clock out at 5, then head to my place." She nods, grinning at me. I smile, and just before I return to the manuscript sitting on my desk, she asks, "Wait, did you drive here?"

I shook my head, "I take the bus." She nods, pressing the pen to her lips, biting the cap—which she always does—so before she responds, I say, "You know it's dangerous to bite the cap."

She looks at me dumbfounded, her brows furrowed and her lips in a cute pout, "I'm sorry?"

I shrugged, "You could swallow it, for starters. And do you know how much bacteria is in that?" She smiles at my word vomit, nodding her head and pulling the pen away from her lips.

"I brought my car with me, so I'll give you a ride." I could only nod my head in agreement, the words flushing out of me.

She's got this hold on me that I can't explain, and even if I try to, the words are stuck in my throat. I couldn't even concentrate on this stupid manuscript that we needed to edit, and my mind was consumed by all things Riley Harlow. I had to reread the same sentence at least 15 times to see if it needed editing or not.

Riley has thrown me for a loop, and I'm too much of a wimp to ask her out. Way to go, Zayn.

For the past three hours, all I've done is watch her work. It came to the point that I finally understood her facial expressions, which is borderline creepy—I know.