Chapter 18
“Do you think today’s the day?” Fay whispers.
“It has to be,” Stella replies.
“He’s been standing there for ten minutes,” Sofia points out. She taps her pen against the corner of her mouth. “It’s not looking good for him.”
I jostle the large stack of paper in my arms. My muscles ache from the weight, and I uncomfortably shift it around so I can glance down at my watch. “I don’t have the time to wait.” I take a step forward.
Stella grabs my elbow and pulls me back. “Come on, he’s almost got it! Just wait another minute.”
The four of us linger in the hallway of the law office, right in front of the doorway to the supply room.
We’re staring at Aashiq, who stands in front of the printer, his finger running along his upper lip.
I sent him in here almost ten minutes ago to scan an important file one of our attorneys needs emailed to another lawyer.
I was hesitant to let Aashiq do the job (especially because I’ve tried teaching him to use the printer at least five times now with no luck), but he always insists on helping me out at work.
Not only to keep up the ruse that he’s supposed to be job-shadowing me, but because he wants to lighten my load to reduce my stress.
Reluctantly, I agreed to let him scan the file, and then I got caught up helping Colin with a technical issue on his computer.
I hadn’t even realized so much time had passed until I got back to my desk, realized I needed to scan some papers to my own computer, and then hurried over here and saw three of my coworkers observing Aashiq.
And now the workday is over, and I really needed that file scanned half an hour ago.
“I don’t have another minute,” I reply. “We’re officially off the clock in like, three minutes, and I promised Attorney Patel I’d send those documents to Attorney Pollack before the end of the day.” I raise the stack of paper in my arms. “ And I still need to scan these files.”
“He’s so close to getting it!” Stella insists. She gestures to Aashiq’s back. “See?”
I follow her gaze to see Aashiq’s hand hovering above the touch screen arrows.
If he presses the one to the left, it’ll give him options to change the ink color of whatever he wants to print.
If he presses the one on the right, it’ll show the “scan” option.
I’ve shown this to him five times, but he just can’t seem to retain the information.
I know I promised to give him more responsibilities while he’s here, but I am regretting it a little.
I’m about to step forward and take over when slowly, tentatively, Aashiq touches the pad of his finger to the button on the right.
The screen shows him Scan , and his face breaks into a triumphant smile as he presses it again.
The machine boots up with a glow, and it makes a churning noise as it takes in the information on the paper and sends it to my computer.
“Yes!” Stella, Faye, and Sofia chorus. At the sound, Aashiq turns around, his brows rising to his forehead. My coworkers burst into applause, flashing him thumbs-up and shouting words of encouragement. He ducks his head in embarrassment, a lock of his hair swooping over his eye.
I try my best to clap for him, too, then walk into the room. “Let’s speed things up, shall we? Work’s almost done, and we gotta get going afterward.”
Sofia stops clapping. “Wait, you’re not coming out with us?”
Aashiq lifts a brow. “Where are you going?”
“It’s our holiday party!” Faye explains. “We go out for dinner and drinks. We were hoping this would finally be the year Ziya agreed to come.”
“That sounds like fun!” Aashiq fixes me with a puzzled stare. “Why don’t you go?”
I chew my tongue. “I don’t drink,” I offer. “And I don’t celebrate Christmas.”
“But you do eat,” Aashiq counters. “And it’s a party. It’ll be fun!” He turns to Faye. “We’ll absolutely be coming.”
I have to hold back the urge to punch him in the shoulder.
Why does he always think that just because he wants to do something, I’ll want to do it, too?
I mean, I have enjoyed some of the stuff he’s encouraged me to do, but spending Friday night with my drunk coworkers doesn’t sound appealing.
I’m opening up more with Stella, Faye, and Sofia—I talk with them in the coffee room during breaks, I joined their book club so I’m in a group chat with them now, and I’ve stepped out to lunch with them—but I prefer baby steps over Godzilla stomps forward.
But Aashiq clearly wants to go, and I can’t exactly send him along without me.
One, because I don’t entirely know how the whole “he’s an extension of me” thing works, and two, I have to be present when he’s around other people to moderate what he says and make sure he doesn’t accidentally cause problems for me.
The other day, I pulled him back from the crosswalk just before he almost got hit by a car because he didn’t realize he had to wait for the walking signal to appear.
He probably wouldn’t have died, but there were people watching, and I didn’t want to have to explain that kind of survival miracle to anyone.
Plus…he’s right. I should spend more time around people. I really enjoy our park lunches and pottery classes, against my own expectations. So, even though I’d rather go at my own pace, I nod. “Okay. I’ll come.”
* * *
“I need you to promise me something,” I say to Aashiq as we push onto the subway.
The group—consisting of Faye, Stella, Sofia, our paralegal Ollie, senior associate attorney Eugene Park, and Colin—split up when we got underground because the train cars were so full.
We ended up scattered, but I made sure to stick close to Aashiq.
“Anything,” he replies readily, just like I knew he would.
“I need you to be serious tonight.”
His brows knit together. “But I’m always serious.”
He is the most unserious person I’ve ever met, but okay. “I mean… I need you to be more…calm.”
“Calm?” he repeats. “But I’m always calm.”
Ugh, I’m not getting anywhere with this. “Listen, Aashiq, Colin and some of the other attorneys are going to be there,” I try again. “And I want you to make a good impression on them.”
“They already know me,” Aashiq points out. “Why do I have to make an impression?”
“They don’t really know you,” I counter. “They walk past you every now and then at the office.”
He pouts. “But I say good morning to them every day. How can they not know me?”
“Easy—they have a million things going through their heads the second they wake up and remembering the faces of their ‘low on the food chain’ coworkers is not one of them.” I check the subway map above Aashiq’s head and see the next stop is ours.
“Anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that you get them to like you, so you have to be… more reserved.”
Aashiq wrinkles his nose. “I don’t get it. Stella, Faye, and Sofia all liked me when they first met me. And I think they still like me now.”
“They did,” I quickly assure him. I pat him on the arm. “And they definitely still do. But the guys are…stiffer. More no-nonsense. They might not like your antics.” I brighten. “You should try to act like them!”
He pauses. “Act like them?” Aashiq repeats slowly. “Like, mimic them?”
“Sure,” I agree. “Copy their body language, the way they talk, the stuff they talk about.” At his unsure expression, I sigh.
“Colin’s going to be there tonight. I need to stay on his good side, and I don’t want him to ask too many questions about who you are or why you’re at our office, especially because he technically hasn’t approved your job shadowing.
” I shuffle slightly toward the door as the subway car slows. “So, please, act more like them.”
“O…kay,” Aashiq drawls.
I nod once firmly, and we exit the car and regroup with the others.
Colin leads the way to the restaurant, and while my instinct used to be to hang out in the back while everyone walked ahead of me, I find myself side by side with Sofia as we discuss the details of the new Hannah Grace book we’ve been reading for the book club.
Aashiq keeps pace with the other guys in front of us, but he’s walking kind of funny.
His back is ramrod straight, and his hands hang loosely by his sides instead of in his pockets like they normally are.
He’s also doing this weird thing with his neck, where it’s pulled all the way back.
His strides are short and languid. I glance over to Colin, and that’s when I realize he’s copying Colin’s posture.
I don’t have a chance to speak on it because we’re already arriving at the restaurant.
We find the table Colin reserved and take our seats.
The restaurant is quaint; the walls alternate painted shades of sage green with walls decorated in pine green wallpaper.
Solid cream-colored tablecloths cover the birchwood tables, and the restaurant pushed two together to accommodate all of us.
The lighting is soft, the amber yellow giving the impression of candlelight.
A jazz song plays in the background, but the karaoke machine in the corner suggests live singing might happen at some point in the night.
I sit down between Faye and Sofia, and it’s only after I’ve hooked my purse around the back of my chair that I notice I left Aashiq alone on the other side of the table with the other men.
He’s squished between Colin and Eugene, his shoulders caved in and his hands fiddling with the button on his wrist. It’s my instinct to get up and ask one of the guys to switch places with me, but someone might wonder why we’re attached at the hip all the time.
Aashiq will be fine. He doesn’t need me all the time, does he?
“Ziya?” Stella’s voice tears my attention away from Aashiq. “What are you ordering?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. I scan the menu’s QR code and open it on my phone. “Maybe a pasta or something.”