Varsha

Oh shucks, what did I do…

I am Varsha, a relative newcomer to the field of finance and the city of Dubai. This beautiful specimen of a man in front of me is none other than the high-net-worth client my boss is trying to chase, Mr. Ahmed Khoury. For the past three months, I have been wanting his eyes to notice me. And today, finally, I have their full attention.

The only difference is in my dreams, these eyes are full of love. In real life, they are dripping with exasperation.

You see, I just dumped a whole twenty-eight dirhams worth of expensive holiday special hot chocolate on his, what is surely, a bespoke Armani suit, because I was busy checking my phone, and not seeing where I was going when I collided with him as I walked out of Starbucks.

For a second, I wince at the money down the drain, before it sinks in who I've splashed with coffee.

“Oh, my gosh! I am sorry! I am sorry!” I babble, ineffectively trying to wipe off the coffee from his suit.

It is the utter stillness of his body that makes me realise that instead of napkins I am using my bare hands. So now, even my hands are sticky, making more of a mess. Even more disconcerting is the feeling of warm muscles under my hands, making my senses tingle.

I peek to look into his eyes, a rich caramel, reminding me of my favourite macchiato. I can drown in these eyes, my brain shouts, as my hands still.

“I am sorry,” I squeak.

He growls, I kid you not. A rumble that makes my spine tingle. Taking a step back, he pivots on his heels to turn away.

“I am sorry! I can pay for the dry-cleaning,” I call out to his back. “Hopefully, I can afford it,” I mutter under my breath.

Ignoring me, he walks away.

Sighing, I pick up my phone, which had slipped from my hand in the collision, and groan. The screen is cracked and coated with hot chocolate.

Shoulders slumped, I walk back to the office. If this had been a movie, this collision would have been called a meet-cute. Ahmed would have fallen head over heels in love with me. In reality, I am embarrassed and hoping my boss doesn’t fire me for the goof-up.

 ***

Ahmed

Her eyes are dark, like a moonless night, where one can lose oneself for all eternity. The thought comes unbidden as I shrug out of my soaked suit and shirt. They are ruined. Balling them, I am about to bin them, when her parting shot about dry-cleaning comes to mind. For the past three months, I had been watching her in the office, curly hair piled up high, her body in constant motion as she talked to everyone. Everyone but me.

Looking back at the ruined clothes, I chuckle. She just gave me an excuse to talk to her again...

***