The Ineligible

Chapter 7; Sincerely, not mine.

Now!

Malika

He stared at me.

And I stared back.

He kept starring.

Half a minute.

An entire minute.

After two minutes, I could feel myself loosing the battle, but I wasn't going to let that happen. Two whole minutes went by with us glaring daggers into each other's eyes.

In those two minutes, I didn't only but stare but also took him in.

Astaghfirullah.

But one can't help it, when you are looking into those soft bear eyes.

His face though is hard; I can't find another way of saying it.

For a man he looks, quite acceptable.

A hard, chiselled face, like that of some ancient Greek statue. Except of course that all the stone statues I have ever seen in books and televisions looked a lot more likely to suddenly smile than he ever will.

They, after all, were made of marble, which is really a quite soft kind of stone, maybe capable of a changeable facial expression. He, on the other hand, isn't soft. He looks as though he were hewn from granite.

His well kept beard that I believe he wakes up each morning one if not two hours earlier just to take care of it more than I do with my hair, and my hair is coily, thick and very very hard while his beard is soft and looks easy for even a rattail comb to go through.

And then, finally, there were his eyes. His dark yet rich-melanin brown eyes. They were dark and soft pools of immeasurable depth, pools you could drown yourself in and never again come up for air.

Well, all right, if all things considered he probably looked slightly better than just 'acceptable'.

The staring contest didn't seem to have an end. Then, towards the beginning of the third minute, just when I was ready to give up and lower my gaze, I have already sinned my eyes enough something seemed to spark in his brown eyes, and though his facial expression didn't really change, he somehow suddenly seemed taken back, almost shaken.

Victorious.

I win, he looses.

"I can't work with you." He abruptly said before turning and leaving the conference hall and all of a sudden the room felt too big and too empty, it felt cold.

By now, I don't feel quite so cocky anymore. With all the lectures I gave myself last night and all the quotes I repeated to myself were fairly leaving me all alone right now.

I look at the door hoping he would come back in and shout at me or whatever that is expected of him to do, but no he doesn't. This is what happens when you let your wild mind run you. Talking about standing up for yourself.

Fear suddenly lances through my heart. What if he sacks me? The possibility hadn't occurred to me until now, because his father had given me this job doesn't mean I could speak to his son how I just did; he is after all my boss and I was supposed to act very professional with him and be very calm no matter how hard he made it.

But this is what they say too late to realise because it already happened. Knowing the kind of man he is, I doubt very much he would still want to listen to his father and keep me. He has shown from the beginning that he hated my guts and didn't trust in my abilities, it was in my position to prove him wrong and not right of whatever he thinks of me.