Chapter 8
“Well.” Aashiq stares at the demolished remains of my USB drive in a small plastic bag. “I see you really wanted this thing dead.”
We’re back in my apartment, and I’m at my desk with my laptop, desperately trying to recover the files of The Longest Goodbye .
Unfortunately, it seems I was too thorough, and it’s all gone.
I can’t even use my querying email; I could have gotten the manuscript back as an attachment, but I deleted the entire account.
I guess this is why they say never to act under extreme duress—which, in my case, was a combination sugar-and-sadness high exacerbated by a very shitty overall day.
I lean back in my chair and blow out an angry breath, then throw my hands in the air. “That’s it. The manuscript is gone.” I turn around, resting my arms on the back of the chair and settling on my knees. “Can’t you use your powers or whatever to save it from the computer?”
“I can try.” Aashiq sets the baggie on top of my desk, then hovers his hands in front of my laptop’s screen.
He closes his eyes, and while nothing happens on my screen that I can see, his brows inch closer and closer to each other in concentration.
After a couple of minutes, he drops his arms with a shake of his head.
“It’s no good,” he says. “There’s some sort of block that’s restricting me from reaching it. ”
I snort. “Let me guess—writer’s block?” I tease.
Aashiq nods thoughtfully. “Maybe so.”
“I was kidding.”
“I wasn’t.” He regards the computer. “Maybe the reason I can’t find it is because you subconsciously don’t want me to find it.”
“Why does it matter what my subconscious thinks?” I ask.
“Because it’s part of you,” he reasons. He runs his pointer finger along his upper lip. “And maybe because I’m part of you, too, I get affected by it as well.”
“Then why don’t you listen when I tell you to do something?” I ask.
He flashes me a cheeky grin. “Maybe that’s your subconscious, too.”
“Or maybe you’re just full of crap,” I retort.
“Wouldn’t that also make you full of crap?”
I chew my tongue. “Touché.”
The sound of the front door opening echoes down the hall and through my open doorway. “Ziya?” I hear Emily call out as her footsteps make their way to my room. “Are you ready to karaoke it up?!”
My eyes widen, but just as I scramble out of my chair to shut my door, Emily stops in the doorway.
“Let’s go sing ballads like someone broke our hearts—” she starts, but abruptly cuts herself off when she looks behind me, and I know right away she can see Aashiq.
She blinks once. “Oh, hi,” she greets. She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “I didn’t know you had company.”
Emily’s tone radiates the ever-lovely host, though as someone who is well-versed in her voice, I can hear the hint of confusion underlying her words. Still, she steps forward and holds her hand out to Aashiq. “I’m Emily, Ziya’s roommate.”
“Nice to meet you!” Aashiq grasps her hand and gives it a shake. “I’m Aashiq, Ziya’s boyfriend.”
Emily’s hand freezes mid-shake, but she quickly regains her composure.
“Oh, Ziya’s boyfriend,” she squeaks, clearly trying so hard to keep the betrayal out of her voice.
“I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” She turns to me, and I’m hit with the force of flames in her eyes. “She never mentioned you.”
“Oh, well, it’s fairly new,” he supplies, blissfully unaware of the fact that if he wasn’t in the room right now, she’d be throttling me.
Emily faces Aashiq again. “Well, are you going to join us for karaoke tonight?”
He brightens up. “No!” I cut in before he has a chance to speak, and despite his lower lip pushing out into a pout, I double down. “He’s busy tonight. He…has a work thing to go to—he just dropped by to say happy birthday to me.”
“Oh, okay.” Emily juts her thumb backward. “I’ll wait for you outside, then, Ziya.” She turns around, and as she puts her back to Aashiq, the death glare plastered all over her face causes me to cower.
When she closes the door behind her, Aashiq turns to me, his lower lip pushed out into a pout. “Aww, I can’t come to karaoke with you? I love karaoke!”
I ignore his question. “Why did you say that?” I demand.
“If I’m going to hang around and help you with your writing, then I need an excuse to be here,” he explains in a frustrating matter-of-fact tone, like everything he does should be self-explanatory. “Boyfriend seemed like the most obvious cover.”
“But you told my coworkers you’re shadowing me at work,” I remind him.
“So?” He shrugs. “As I observed today, your coworkers aren’t your friends, and Emily, your only friend, doesn’t work at your office, so there’s no reason for them to mingle.”
Ouch; that observation stings more than it should. “We should still keep things consistent.”
He nods. “Do you want me to tell people at the office I’m your boyfriend, then?”
Panic rises in my throat. “No!” I reject, throwing my hands up as if I can wave the idea right out of the air. Slowly, I lower them back down. “Just…stay in your lane.”
“I can do that.”
I roll my eyes. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
I move to leave, bracing myself for Emily’s barrage of questions and conjuring up excuses in my head, when Aashiq’s hand circles my wrist. “Ziya, wait,” he says.
I frown at the action. “What is it?”
He drops my wrist, then puts both hands behind his back. After a moment, he brings them to the front, and a gift bag dangles from his fingers. “Happy birthday.”
My brows rise to my forehead. I wasn’t anticipating anything from him today…
from anybody, really. My parents always buy me theater tickets, my siblings just Venmo me cash, and Emily is a fan of homemade gifts, but because she’s always so busy, sometimes I get my gift from her weeks after my birthday.
I tilt my head to the side. “But you already got me the typewriter.”
“The typewriter was to show you what I could do,” he replies. “I didn’t plan for it to be your gift.” He shakes the bag. “Now, take it.”
Carefully, I accept the bag from him. I pull out the tissue, then reach in and pull out the gift.
A surprised gasp slips out of me as I realize what it is.
“A first edition of The Velveteen Rabbit ?” I whisper, barely daring to breathe in case my breath causes the book to collapse.
It’s sturdy under my fingers, though. I stare up at Aashiq, awe flooding my face. “How…how did you—”
“You’re still questioning my methods?”
I nod. “Right,” I say. “But how did you know this was my favorite children’s book?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he replies. “When it comes to your creative side, I pay attention. It’s kind of my job.”
My heart flutters, even though it shouldn’t. I force myself to ignore it. “Thank you,” I say instead. “This is a wonderful gift.”
“You’re welcome.” He gestures to the door. “Now, go get your karaoke on, because when you’re done, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
* * *
Emily, to her credit, doesn’t mention Aashiq until we make it to the karaoke place. Unfortunately, that means my pulse is racing because I’m waiting for her to bring it up. Just as we settle into the room we paid for, I think maybe she’s going to drop it.
Of course, then she pounces. “Now, who the hell is Aashiq and why haven’t you mentioned him?!” she screeches.
I pause from my spot beside the screen, where I’m currently queueing up Bouncy by ATEEZ.
“I…uh…” I run my tongue along my teeth. “I met Aashiq at a coffee shop a few weeks back. We went out a couple of times, and it wasn’t serious…
and then it was.” It’s the lamest thing I could have come up with, but I have no idea how to explain to her how he actually came to be without sounding like I need an intervention.
“I didn’t mention him because I didn’t want to say anything in case it was nothing. ”
Emily stares me from her spot on the long couch. “But why didn’t you tell me?” she asks quietly. Hurt flashes in her eyes. “I told you as soon as I went out on a date with Daniel.”
My heart cracks, and I set my microphone down as I get up and go over to where Emily’s sitting.
I take her hand in mine, giving it a light squeeze.
“I know you did,” I start. “And I really am sorry I didn’t tell you.
But you know me…” I shift awkwardly. “I’ve never done the whole…
dating thing before, and I don’t know what timelines are like and when you should tell people.
Plus…” I lift a shoulder. “This feels personal, and I kind of wanted to savor it being only me and Aashiq for a while.”
Instantly, Emily’s hurt washes away. “Oh, I’m sorry, Zee.
” She drops my hand, only to wrap her arm around my shoulder and pull me in close.
“I overreacted. It was selfish of me to think I’m entitled to know everything about your life just because you’re my best friend, but you’re right.
Certain things—especially when it comes to relationships—are private, and you deserve to do things at your own pace, regardless of what other people think. ”
Wow. That was easier than I thought it was going to be. “Thanks,” I say, and a weight lifts off my shoulders. I stand up, thinking she’s done, but Emily grabs my arm and yanks me back down. “What?”
“What do you mean, what?” She taps her hands on my leg. “ Tell me about him! What’s he like?”
Considering I met him today and for most of the day he annoyed me, these are going to be very difficult questions to answer. “Well…” I drawl, trying to buy more time. I bite my lower lip. “He’s nice.”
Emily’s giddy grin pauses. “That’s it?”
“I mean, you wouldn’t date someone rude, right?”
“Yeah, I guess, but what do you like about him?” she presses. “Do you have the same interests? Do you find him funny? Does he treat you well?”
My mind flashes back to Aashiq in our kitchen, whipping up breakfast for me so I wouldn’t start the day on an empty stomach.
Aashiq encouraging me to take breaks so I can relax.
Aashiq showing up in the rain with an umbrella, which he did because he knows I love the trope.
“He’s really good at anticipating what I need,” I start, though I’m unsure of where I’m going with this.
“It’s like he knows my brain as well as I do.
He does his best to take care of me and encourage me and… ” My face warms. “He’s there for me.”
Emily regards my expression for a long moment, then nods firmly. “Alright, then. Good enough for me.” She claps her hands. “Now, are you ready to usher in the rest of your life?”
I know she’s just talking about my thirtieth birthday, but her words ring true in more ways than she knows. I grab my microphone and stand up. “You bet I am.”