“So what do you like to do on the weekends?” Ani steals a piece of cotton candy straight off my cone before retreating to her side of the bench.
This random bench at the corner of Dreamland has become our weekly meet-up spot. While my original intention of joining the mentorship program wasn’t altruistic, I’ve come to enjoy the hour break from my busy schedule because Ani is a decent companion. During the time I’ve gotten to know her, I’ve come to realize she shares some of Zahra’s best traits. She fills most of the conversation, giving me a chance to sit back and listen. Thanks to her, I can spend an hour not thinking about Dreamland or the demands from the employees.
“I don’t do much besides work.”
She fake snores. “Boring.”
“What do you do on weekends?”
She beams. “I hang out with JP. Watch movies. Go to the mall and shop!”
“Sounds like fun,” I say with a flat voice.
She giggles. “You don’t like those things?”
“No. The idea of going to a mall makes my skin crawl.”
“Zahra hates the mall too.” Ani grins.
“You don’t say.” I press my lips together to hold back my smile. Ani always finds a way to bring up Zahra during all our conversations. At first, I thought it was because Ani idolizes her older sister, which she does, but her true intentions became clear after a few meetings. I’m being set up. Ani tries to be slick about it but only a blind man would miss the way Ani’s eyes light up whenever I ask a question or two about Zahra in return. She feeds my curiosity while I entertain her little mission.
She perks up. “Actually, you and Zahra have a lot in common.”
Unlikely. Zahra’s my opposite in every way that counts. I can’t compare to a woman who can light up a room with her smile alone. She’s like the sun, with everyone orbiting around her to bask in her warmth. Unlike me, who keeps people away from me with nothing but a scowl.
“You always find a way to bring your sister up.”
Ani tucks a brown curl behind her ear. “Because you like each other.”
“And you know that how?” My voice keeps a neutral tone despite my growing interest.
“She looks at you like she wants to have your babies.”
I choke on my sudden intake of air. My fist pounds against my chest as I take a deep inhale. “I definitely don’t think that’s true.”
“You’re right. I wanted to see your reaction.” She shrugs.
Unbelievable.
“You’re a cruel woman.” I steal a piece of her pretzel in retribution.
“But my sister does smile at you.” She says it in the sweetest, most innocent way.
“She smiles at everyone,” I grumble under my breath.
“How would you know?”
Shit. Ani’s question sounds innocent, but it sheds light on how much I pay attention to Zahra. The smile on Ani’s face tells me she probably noticed too.
“It’s hard to miss.”
“How cute!” she squeals. “I knew it!”
“Knew what?”
“You do like my sister.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you smiled.”
Well, shit. I didn’t notice that. Get a handle on yourself. “People smile.”
Ani only laughs and shakes her head. “Not you.”
“Let’s pretend this conversation never happened.”
“Sure, Rowan. Sure.” She swipes another handful of cotton candy from me as payment for her secrecy.
But something about her smile tells me I’m anything but safe.
I shut off the light in my office and pull out my phone.
Me: Hey. I finished up your drawing. I’ll send it over tomorrow.
There’s no need for me to message Zahra, but it feels weird to let a whole day go by without talking. Between my busy schedule and her lack of text messages, I’ve grown restless as the hours have gone by. It’s a warning that I’m becoming dependent on her company. Yet I can’t find it in me to stop.
My phone vibrates in my hand. Zahra sent me a photo of her cubicle, where she has a hundred Post-its strewn across the wall.
Me: You’re still working? It’s 10 p.m.
Zahra: Yes, Grandpa. I had a fun idea I wanted to finish before I went home.
Me: What could possibly be better than sleep?
Zahra: Dinner.
I frown as I type out my next message.
Me: You haven’t eaten anything?
Zahra: No. I burned through all of my snacks hours ago.
Me: I pity you.
Me: Your work ethic reminds me of Rowan.
I’m a piece of shit for referencing myself, but I’m somewhat interested in her unfiltered opinion of me.
Zahra: Yeah right! I wish.
Zahra: I think the man runs on solar energy because there’s no way he’s human.
I chuckle low under my breath. That would be convenient and way more time-efficient than sleeping.
Me: Sounds plausible. It would explain his need for taking a walk during his lunch break.
Zahra: How do you know these things?!
Shit. Yeah, Scott, how do you know these things?
Me: Everyone knows to avoid the back lot quad at noon.
Zahra sends a few laughing emojis and another text.
Zahra: Oh. I didn’t know this!
Me: That’s because you live inside of a warehouse. Go home.
Zahra: I will. I will. Maybe in an hour.
I shake my head and pocket my phone. While I’m pleased that some Creators are taking their jobs seriously like Zahra, it doesn’t make me happy to know she’s up this late on an empty stomach.
The walk to the Catacombs entrance isn’t far from my office. As I walk through the tunnel, I find myself slowing down near the Creators’ warehouse entrance.
You could go in and force Zahra to go home and come back tomorrow with a full stomach and a good night’s rest.
I walk up the steps and open the door without giving anything a second thought. The path to Zahra’s cubicle is one I’ve memorized, and I find myself stopping at the entrance to watch her work. It’s my kind of entertainment, with her working her bottom lip as she grabs a Post-it and folds it into a neat little square. She turns and attempts to throw it in a mason jar. Her shot is too short, and the paper falls to the ground.
“Nice shot.”
Zahra jumps in place. “You scared me!” She turns on her heel and looks me up and down. “What are you even doing here?”
I’m struck speechless. What am I doing here?
“I wanted to check in and see if anyone was still working.” That much is true.
“Why?” She raises a brow.
“I wanted someone’s opinion on something.” For fuck’s sake. Go home while you still stand a chance.
“Okay. Hit me.” She smiles as she leans against her desk.
What in the world could I ask her opinion on?
“Rowan, what is it?”
“I wasn’t sure if our oldest ride is worth keeping.”
Her entire face brightens. “Oh no! Don’t get rid of it. I love the—” Her grumbling stomach cuts her off, morphing the shade of her face from brown to bright red.
I scowl. “You skipped dinner.”
“Umm…how did you know that?” The color of her cheeks somehow intensifies.
Yeah, Rowan. How did you know? Fuck. I keep messing up tonight. Who knew keeping up two personalities would be this difficult?
“You’re still here working.”
“Right. I’m about to wrap up soon so I’ll just—” Her stomach grumbles even louder, and my blood turns into lava, pumping furiously at the pace of my heart.
I pull out my phone. “How do you feel about Chinese food?”
Her mouth gapes apart. “Umm…it’s good?”
I dial a local place I have saved after too many late nights working. I’m not sure what Zahra likes, so I order one of everything. It’s probably overkill, but I’d rather have her eat something she likes.
I hang up to find Zahra still gawking at me. “What?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t expect you to buy me dinner.”
“I’m hungry. You can have the leftovers,” I respond as if that solves everything.
“But I’m pretty sure you ordered the entire restaurant.”
I remain standing in silence.
Her brows pull together before she wipes away whatever look is on her face. “All right. So why are you thinking of getting rid of our oldest ride?” She drops onto the floor where she has an entire array of Post-its, pieces of paper, markers, and more.
Right. The opinion I wanted.
I follow suit and lean against the back partition of the cubicle.
Zahra laughs to herself as I remove my suit jacket and throw it beside my legs.
“What’s so funny?”
She waves at my body like it solves my question. “You’re sitting on the floor.”
I look down at myself. “And?”
“It’s weird.” She crosses her legs.
I ignore her. “It’s an old ride. I’m not sure if it’s worth keeping.”
She sucks in a breath. “You have to be joking! Is it worth keeping?!”
I nod, knowing this kind of question could stir up an hour-long conversation. And it does just that. While we wait for the delivery, Zahra spends the time explaining the history behind my grandfather’s first ride, as if I wasn’t aware. She goes into great detail, touching upon all the reasons we shouldn’t dare change a single thing. I find myself smiling more than usual because her enthusiasm and passion is contagious.
I’m somewhat disappointed when the food arrives because it cuts her off.
“Did you really need to order the whole menu?”
I shrug. “Wasn’t sure what you liked.”
She looks at me with a pinched expression. “And why didn’t you ask me?” She grabs two carton boxes from the bag and presses them against her chest with a sigh.
I stay silent and pluck a box of fried rice from the bag. Zahra passes me a plastic-wrapped fork and we both dive in.
She lets out the tiniest moan as she takes a bite of her food. I feel the sound straight to my cock, and blood starts rushing to a place it doesn’t belong.
I take a deep breath. “Why were you here so late? Really?”
She points over her shoulder at the mason jar filled with Post-its. “I was working on a new idea.”
“And?”
“And I lost track of time.”
“Does this happen often?”
She shrugs. “I don’t have much else going on.”
“What do you like to do for fun?” The question sounds natural as if I care about other activities besides work. Maybe Ani is rubbing off on me with her personal questions.
Zahra smiles. “I like to read.”
“For fun?”
She ends up throwing her head back and laughing. My whole chest warms at the idea of making her laugh like that, and a little kernel of pride swells within me.
“Yes. Some people read for something other than work.” She speaks breathlessly. “What do you like to do when you’re not working?”
Text you. “I run.”
“Figures.” She rolls her eyes.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. “What does that mean?”
She clears her throat like it can hide the way her cheeks turn the lightest pink color. “Nothing. You have a runner’s body.” Her eyes look everywhere but at my face.
Hmm. She’s been checking me out.
“Not that I check you out or anything,” she stammers, and her cheeks only redden more.
I sit up taller, pleased with this new development. “Right.”
“Only a masochist runs for fun.”
“It clears my head.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, making my lungs burn from the rush of oxygen.
Zahra grins. “It’s a shame you don’t laugh more often.”
Because I don’t have many things to laugh about. I tug at my tie, loosening its hold around my neck. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t dare. I kind of like the fact that it’s a rarity because it makes it even more special.” Her smile is infectious, making the corners of my lips turn up in return.
No one has called my laugh special. Hell, I don’t think I’ve been labeled special in any other way that wasn’t derogatory. It makes me feel…good. Appreciated. Valued in a way that has nothing to do with how much money I make or what kind of job I have.
I want to see myself like she sees me. Because in her eyes, I don’t feel like I’m a man carrying an entire mountain of expectations on my shoulders. I’m just Rowan, the kind of guy who sits on a floor in a pair of expensive slacks, eating takeout from a carton and loving every second of it.
It hits me, as Zahra grins at me, that I want more of this with her. I need to find a way to make it happen without drawing attention to the fact that I’m two different people in her life.
If only I knew how.
