Chapter 8 - Chapter 7

# Chapter 7
AYANDA

Reaching for my cup of coffee on the littered computer desk, I curse when I put it to my lips.

It's empty. I'm wired, having drunk more coffee than what can be considered healthy. I've typed out one thousand words in the last hour, then deleted them all because I wasn't happy with how they turned out. How can I possibly begin to make sense of Vusi Hadebe? I glance down at the recorder lying on top of a folded newspaper beside my laptop. For a small device, it has a weird effect on my heart every time I glance at it. Which I do a lot.

With a quick peek around me to ensure no one is peering into my cubicle, I place my headphones in my ears and press play.

The smoky notes of Vusi's voice caress my mind. I relax back in my chair, staring mindlessly at nothing while imagining Vusi's dark eyes, the way they watch me from across the small square table. His strong hands, covered in tattoos and a smattering of hairs at the knuckles, drum the surface in rhythm with my erratic breathing, as if to summon every inhale.

It's difficult to listen to him talk about his mother. His detached voice is at odds with the intensity in his eyes when he looks at me.

It's as if his mouth speaks one language and his eyes another, and I can barely focus on one while deciphering the other.

His breathy chuckle sends a rush of heat between my thighs, and my hands fly up to my headphones as I sit straighter in my seat. It's wrong to rock on my chair to ease the ache building between my thighs.