Twice Shy

11 TWICE SHY

Ilyaz isn't laughing anymore when he storms through the door, while I'm lounging in the couch in mismatched wampa socks— mourning for my husband's murder victim— and a raspberry sucker in my mouth, flipping through a magazine with glazed eyes. He's ready for blows, and I'm ready to nod off.

Excellent. It was getting boring around here.

He strides over to stand between my feet, eyes flashing. His hair should look awful, but it's raining and it's doing it's unfortunately attractive thing where it falls over his eyebrows in damp, gleaming waves. I narrow my eyes and bite down hard on the candy.

"What's up?" I drawl.

"Give me your phone,"

I make a sound like tsk! "What? No,"

"You ruined mine. It's only fair I get yours,"

"I didn't ruin your phone, dumdum. I thought we already clarified that situation despite whose cord fell short,"

He's too pissed to respond to the immature comment, and proceeds to pat my pockets, which makes me giggle.

"Where is it?" I shove him off, and he moves to the cushions instead. I've made myself a cosy little nest of Nutella and the Swedish gingerbread cookies, and two of Ilyaz's shirts of which I'm gradually removing the buttons which I'd sewn for him in the past.

"All day!" He exclaims, "Ammi's been calling my phone all day, and I haven't been able to answer because of your stunt. Who do you suppose she calls next?"

"Hold on, let me guess,"

He doesn't let me guess. Rude. "The office! And not my personal extension, either, since I have my phone set to voicemail. She's been calling the front desk nonstop over every goddamn thought that wanders into her head. Wasn't so bad when I had a working cell phone, because I could send her to voicemail and text back my replies. Short and simple. But no! Instead I get Freya running in to interrupt me every five minutes, crying because she knows she's not supposed to interrupt me for unimportant crap like this but my mom won't give her a choice. 'Sir, your mother wants me to send her a PDF of your calendar so she can mark down what time you're taking her shopping this Saturday.' 'Sir, your mother's on the line again. She needs you to come by after work and tell your father he has to see a doctor about his tonsil.' 'Sir, your mother wants to know if you'll have time on your lunch break to go find the perfumed dried petals you got for Eid in 2017. Her friend Sharleen needs them ASAP.'"

"Sounds like a busy day for Sir," I snigger.

"I looked unprofessional in front of my clients and colleagues. I could lose my contract because of this!"

"And yet you're blowing up at me instead of, say, the person who has caused the havoc in the first place?" I pop a Nutella-cookie sandwich and arch a brow like I make more sense.

"I expect you to be the bigger person here. You know how my mother gets. I told her to only call my office when it's an emergency, but apparently everything is urgent to her,"

He growls, messing up his hair. He's wearing his navy blazer today and wow, the effect is quite something. His eyes are demon-black, and I'm not hating the whole day's-worth-of-scruff thing he's got going on. Ilyaz has a very nice jaw; when it's lightly shadowed like it is now, coupled with the slate-gray frames of his glasses, he reminds me of a tormented English literature professor who's just hit rock bottom.

I am learning at this very moment in time that tormented English literature professor who's just hit rock bottom is my specific type. He doesn't even notice me checking him out because he's busy hunting for my phone amid a sea of candy wrappers.