To live and to love

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The room was filled to the brim. Every single member of our MagTag team and Waleed's friends was wired up watching France play vs England in a World Cup qualifier.

Waleed's eyes were also glued to the screen, his hands on either side, placed near the macaroons, caging me in. I wasn't quite sure how I'd gotten into this situation, but I was reluctant to move as the match moved into its final minutes.

Seeing my position, Viv and I eyeballed each other across the room, her mouth etched into a slight smirk. Seeing my sigh, she raised an eyebrow and I shrugged. I didn't think I had any logical statement that could work as an explanation as to why I was caged between my work colleague and the kitchen counter.

It started out pretty innocently.

Waleed had met me outside my apartment door, sometimes with coffee other times with cupcakes, every morning after that Monday. We'd managed to use that time efficiently by bouncing off different ideas, working through the small details, traveling to work together and people had begun to notice.

First, it was Francois who had tried to, in his own sweet way, wrangle information about my new 'beau'. Then came my sister, who'd noticed the change in my appearance and demeanor. Third, came my office colleagues, lead by a very enthusiastic Viv, who made subtle comments about a new partnership brewing in the office.

I'd ignored the remarks. Waleed and I never talked about anything personal. I'd deliberately stayed away from those topics. After that night almost a month ago, I'd managed to avoid anything that might turn intimate with him and he had never tried to step out of the circle I'd drawn for us, respecting my boundaries.

I'd termed it self preservation.

Ja had called it stupidity.

But I felt like I was holding back a bursting dam. That no matter how far I ran, or how hard I tried, I was fighting against the inevitable. That something was going to change.

Chaos never comes with an announcement. But the impending doom always comes with some warning signs. Waleed had sent out the housewarming invites a week and a half ago. After a whole panic session, I had decided upon my outfit for the occasion, much to Ja's amusement, a week ago.

The fateful day had started off with a blast of sunshine amongst the morning fog. There was a certain spark in the air. A certain buzz. A flicker of anticipation.

I had sipped on my coffee, trying to focus on the day ahead, ignoring the tumbling in my stomach.

My white loose pants, salmon blouse, and silk scarf combo straddled the fine line between casual and chic. I'd curled my hair into a tumble of loose waves and had tied the silk scarf over my hair, using it as a headband.

Dabbing some highlighter on my cheekbones, I'd reapplied another coat of my pink lipstick as I waited for Viv. Everything had been carefully orchestrated, perfected to not seem overdone or too eager. Viv had shown up at my doorstep holding a basket of baked goodies and a Cheshire Cat smile. I'd grabbed my housewarming present, a lovely white box from Neiman Marcus, containing a beautiful Michael Aram marble tray and had hopped into her car.

Very distant.

Very impersonal.

We'd driven to his place, a beautiful one-story stone cottage, located fifteen minutes away from my place. The 'cottage' as Waleed had so deftly described, was an 18th-century styled French masterpiece. Located near the lake, the small building was a salute to the history of French architecture. Awed and a little uneasy, I'd twisted my fingers as Viv drove up the small but spacious driveway, taking in the gorgeous site.