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.
Greystone walls glinted in the evening sun, and I twisted my fingers, uncomfortable. I knew he was the heir to a publishing powerhouse, but knowing the reality of his background was not sitting well with me.
Viv rang the bell, her eyes widening excitedly at the loud peels of laughter that spilled out from the windows.
And that was when the trouble began.
My stomach clenched tightly as Waleed opened the door: tall, gorgeous, and utterly charming. Dressed in dark slacks and a white dress shirt, that was unbuttoned at the neck, with his hair stuck up, he'd looked so freaking sexy that my plan to stay aloof and distant went out of the window. Our eyes locked and I couldn't look away. His intense stare had me frozen on the spot. Almost like he was seeing right through me.
Pathetic.
What was it about him that made my brain turn to mush?
Three voices cried out at once. "Bonjour!" Laughter and some of the same variations of the standard greetings echoed with our arrival. Sounds of, "Thank you for coming", "My pleasure!", "How's the project?", "Haha no work only play today," rang around me as we walked through the foyer.
I stayed at the periphery, letting him take my coat and my gift, depositing myself somewhere near the floor to ceiling doors. My eyes moved around the open-plan kitchen and large living room that bled into the immense cobblestone patio. The living room was decorated in shades of white and grey, with accents of blue thrown in the form of rugs or cushions. Biting my lip, I squinted to gaze outside, my eyes caught by the eye-catching centerpiece. The lake view patio hosted a large rectangular table that could seat eight; covered in a soft ivory tablecloth, shimmering under the now orange sky. The structure was decorated with a massive white pergola, the beams draped in heavy artificial greenery.
When had Waleed decided on all of this? This screamed of a women's touch. Had he bought a furnished house?
My feet had carried me towards the counter, trying to find something to combat my thirst, and that's when I'd gotten stuck in his arms. Well not technically, but visually.
"Waleed?"
"Hmm?" My heart jumped and my cheeks heated even more as I stared at his hand.
"You're caging me in."
"Sorry," His deep voice caused a flash of heat to roll through me as I dragged in a deep breath.
He still hadn't moved away.
"You haven't moved."
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes," Sighing, he moved back and I turned around, trying to ignore the thumping of my heart. Those eyes really were a beautiful shade of brown, warm and intense. The kind of eyes you could easily get lost staring into.
"Why are you running from me?"
"Is that why you caged me?"
"Answering a question with a question, I see what you did there,"A smile snuck out as I shook my head. "I didn't think you were going to come?"
"Why not?"
"Maybe to keep your work life separate from your personal?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't play that card Shazi. You and I both know what I'm talking about."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you asking this?" Here and now?
A wicked grin slipped over his full lips. He bent his head down and whispered, "Because I don't want you to run away."
"Why would I run away?"
"Because you might not like what I'm about to say next. Shazi, the-"
"We've won! Woohoo! Go Brits!" Peter from accounting, jumped over the counter and pounded Waleed on the back. Waleed intercepted his advance covering me with his body, giving me the space to slip away.
Viv raised an eyebrow as I sidled towards her. "What was that all about?"
"I don't know," I mumbled. Viv giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Thank God you're not going to deny it."
My eyes narrowed. "Viv." She raised her hands in a 'at peace' gesture. "Do you know where the restroom is?" She nodded and pointed towards the hallway.
"Down the hall, third door on the right."
I nodded and made my way towards the hallway, ignoring the growing bubble of men huddling near the kitchen counter. The hallway walls were bare of any paintings with a few plants placed at a few intervals. My eyes widened when I passed by a pair of open double doors with a constructed Steinway piano surrounded by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and what looked like thousands of books. How did he own so many books?
He definitely hadn't lied the first time we'd met.
As if I was possessed, I walked into the room, my fingers trailing over the dark leather ottoman placed near the fireplace. The entire room was accented in cream and black, seeming to be something out of Vogue.
Golden sunlight spilled into the room from the glass windows that overlooked the lake, bathing the Grand Piano in its glorious splendor.
Stepping towards the instrument, my eyes caught on the papers scattered at the top. Rough charcoal lines peeked through and I lifted the paper to take a closer look.
They were sketches. Of a girl in a coffee shop. A small face stared into an antique mirror, the girl's eyes searching for her reflection. The artist had drawn her in the midst of shaking out her hair from whatever constraint they were in, the locks cascading down her shoulders.
I picked up the other sketch, trying to control my trembling fingers. This one was drawn to represent the same girl, her eyes filled with mirth and joy, the Eiffel Tower at her back.
Stumbling back, I took in heaving breath. Sitting down on one of the chairs, my eyes fell on to the mantle where a familiar scrap of silk caught my eye.
"Shazi," I started, whirling around to see him standing near the door. He stared at me with his piercing gaze that seemed to burn past skin and bones and hearts.
"I was just looking for..."
"I know what this looks like..." We laughed and paused, giving each other shy smiles. "Sorry, you first," he said, crossing his arms across his chest.
I gestured towards the shelves on the walls.
"Interesting collection of books."
"Thank you, I wish I could say that it's mine."
"Really?"
He paused and looked at me, those lips starting to tip up at the corners."I don't own this house."
"Who does?"
"My sister. She owns and runs her business. She'd bought this place with her husband two years ago," so he had a super successful sister. One who was married.
I tilted my head towards the piano. "Is that hers as well?"
He shook his head, coming towards me. "This is probably the only thing I actually brought with me. Bea can't stand music," I nodded awkwardly.
He hadn't moved to pick up the sketches. Maybe he thought I hadn't seen them yet.
Waleed cleared his throat. "Uh, how long... how long have you been in this room?" A flush crawled across my cheeks.
His eyes widened and I gave him a small
smile, enjoying how the tips of his ears turned pink. "So you saw the..." I nodded. "That's trespassing," he muttered. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but there was a distinct gleam of amusement in his eyes.
"And that's stealing," I snapped back, gesturing towards my silk scarf.
He rubbed the back of his head and my heart clutched. It was endearing to see him so nervous, and so unsure of himself.
"It fluttered to the ground and I picked it up. I wanted to give it to you, but..." he stopped when I met his agitated stare. "I just kept it."
"You kept it," I parroted. He nodded puffing out excess air and running a hand through his hair.
"I mean this is a good time as any."
I watched him cross the room, stopping centimeters away from me, his hand coming to brush mine sending tingles to ricochet throughout my being.
"What are you talking about?"
"I really like you Shazi. I've liked you since I saw you in that coffee shop. So much so that I wanted to punch the guy who had kept you waiting for him," My heart was pounding together in a completely different way from when Faizan and I would hang out. This felt fresh and new. It felt strong, somehow. "I wanted to give you time, I know this feels rushed and I know you haven't said anything, which is my fault since I've never really asked you but I want to see if we could be something."
I ducked my head shyly, my cheeks heating at his words, feeling completely out of my depth.
"You don't have to reply right now. I know your stance on dating and I respect that but I..."
"Waleed my man! How have you been?"
Both Waleed and I jumped part, our cheeks heated, turning around to see the three people standing at the door.
They say if you say the devil's name enough times he appears. Faizan strolled into the room, his walk confident, his signature smirk in place. Waleed stilled beside me, his eyes on the man in front of us, his hand fluttering near my waist.
Chaos had arrived.
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