For the eleventh time, Musa read the same line of the same page she had been stuck on for at least the past ten minutes.

And as fate would have it, Musa found that her mind began wandering again as soon as she hit the sixth word of the sentence. A full one hundred and twenty seconds was required to pass before Musa would crossly awaken from her reverie. Another full minute was necessary for her to then check her behaviour and mentally chide herself. When this silent process was complete, the cycle all too conveniently began again as soon as her eyes rested on that dreaded sixth word of the unfortunately equally dreary sentence.

She had been daydreaming too much lately. She had been having horrible naughty dreams that made her flush whenever she returned back to reality. These dreams however always turned into heart-wrenching moments and they seemed to all end with the retreating figure of a familiar tall sulky man.

Riven.

Musa wanted to kick herself in the head. What sane, mature, professional woman continued to obsess over their high school sweetheart? That kind of puppy love belonged to those carefree, naïve teenage years. She didn't need to be plagued by endless moments of anguish and yearning. She was a self-possessed, accomplished, modern woman of the 21st century.

Yet, all she wanted to do was scream "I'm sorry!" and "Stay!" at the retreating figure in her dreams. She wanted to grab him, shake him, spill her insides out in front of him and confess every fear and doubt.

But the figure in her dreams kept on walking away. And in all her hazy, mental wanderings, she often found that she had no voice to scream the very words she wanted to express to him.

"I want to, but I can't. I don't know how." Simple words that were simultaneously vague and complex. They represented the depth of her emotional struggle, the battle of fears against her own burning desire.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!" Musa said as she stared at the same sixth word in the sentence for the twelfth time now.

"Now what could have inspired such foul language from our resident fairy-like superwoman?" an amused male voice enquired. The deep, masculine tenor startled Musa and she glanced up quickly. Standing before her was a dark haired, clean-shaven young man sharply dressed in a business suit. His hair was neatly swiped to the side and his eyes sparkled with humour and warmth.

"Hi Jared," Musa said, smiling ruefully "It's just me having a temper tantrum with this document that I can't seem to get started on reading,"

"The Houst case? I don't blame you. That's one dry article. Whoever wrote it had no sense of paragraphing or of any stylistic aspects of writing at all!" Jared said good-naturedly.

"My sentiments exactly" Musa said, although inwardly she knew that the badly written paper was only half the reason for her violent outburst. Unwittingly, she sighed as her thoughts meandered again and came to rest on Riven. She didn't notice the concerned look Jared shot her at the escape of her sigh, nor did she observe how quickly he pulled up a chair next to her. Her awareness was only sparked again when he came to rest a warm hand on her shoulder.

"You look like you need a break." Jared said, his eyes reflecting worry.

"I just had one. I went back to my old hometown recently." Musa said before observing that Jared's hand continued to linger on her shoulder.

"Yeah well, it looks like that break didn't help you much. Your shoulder muscles are all tense." Jared said and stood up. Before Musa realized what he was doing, Jared had already positioned himself behind her chair and soon strong hands were working out the knots in her shoulders. Musa felt that she should protest, but the hands massaging her shoulders did make her feel very good and were indeed effective in making her relax.

"Are you going to the company dinner tonight?" Jared asked as his hands travelled up to Musa's neck and his fingers continued to perform tiny circular movements on her nerves there.

"Mmm, I don't know. Company dinners are always kind of a drag." Musa admitted.

"Tell me about it. I have to go though. My department is in charge of hosting tonight." Jared said as he worked his way down Musa's neck and began doing little chops along her spine.

"Uh huh." Musa said distractedly. That felt good. It reminded her of the way Riven…

Musa's eyes snapped open. She was doing it again. Fantasizing about a high school romance. When was she ever going to learn?

"So, uh, I was wondering, if you would like to come with me tonight? I mean, it's boring and all, but you and I always seem to have a good time when we hang out, so I thought…" Musa was suddenly aware that Jared was still speaking. He was still rubbing her back but as his voice trailed off, she realized that Jared was waiting for her answer.

"You mean, like a date?" Musa asked tentatively.

"Not if you don't want it to be" Jared said simply. "I don't really bother putting labels to these things."

"Huh." Musa said, her mind whirling. A big part of her recoiled at the idea of going on a date with anyone else right now. Yet another part of her rationalized that she had to start getting over Riven once and for all since he had made it pretty clear that between the two of them, it had to be all or nothing. And since, it was pretty much shaping up to be more of nothing…

"Ok." Musa said finally. "I'll see you at the dinner tonight then."

---------------------- ------------------ ---------------- ----------------- ----------------- ----------

Riven stared at the reflection in the mirror dismally. He felt so uncomfortable in the stiff white collar uniform and polished black shoes that Layla had gotten for him. Sure the clothes fit, but he looked like a ridiculous sailor boy lacking only a sailor's cap.

"I can't do this." Riven said, and began to pull at the starchy white collar.

"You signed a contract!" Layla hissed, waving the paper dangerously in front of him.

Riven rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't do uniforms ok! I'm used to serving people in my comfy blue jeans and regular shirts."

"What is the big deal? It's just clothes!"

"Do you have any idea how positively wrong I look in this outfit? I might as well be one of those stripper boys clad in uniforms!" Riven said in exasperation. "Don't visualize it!" He snapped when he noticed Layla considering his words and giving him a critical look-over. Burying his head in his hands, he inwardly groaned to himself. This was shaping out to be a very bad idea.

"You look fine. You look more like one of those theme park helpers than a stripper."

"Thanks." Riven said dryly. He now strongly believed that Layla should not concern herself with any attempts at optimism. He doubted that she would be truly encouraging to anyone.

"Look, think about the end goal. Everyone is required to attend the company dinner. Musa will be there. You get to touch base with her and talk to her." Layla said, trying to assume a perky and chirpy demeanour.

"I still don't see how this is going to work." Riven grumbled though his insides did a little flip at the prospect of seeing Musa. He had been doing a lot of thinking ever since his brief re-encounter with Musa. He realized that his feelings for her had matured and changed during the time they were apart. His desire and hunger for her was still the same as yesterday, but now he recognized the emergence of new, previously unknown feelings. He trusted Musa; she was the only woman who re-affirmed his value, who accepted him for who he was and yet was patient enough to wait and nurture the latent change she knew that was possible within him. He understood that he had forfeited the trust that she had, in those early days, easily placed in him. But he still believed in her and in the fact that there was probably no one else better suited for him than the pixie-like female. He was plagued with an insatiable need to be her protector. For everything that she had invested in him in the past, he realized that more than anything, he wanted to reciprocate her actions and quietly nurture her and travel beside her for the rest of his life.

For the rest of his life. Riven's eyes widened slightly. He paused in his actions (which consisted mainly of tugging at his starchy white uniform). Was he ready for that? Did he understand the actual significance of his own words and thoughts? He couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he wanted to be with her again so that he could figure out all these questions in his head. Somehow, he believed in his simple way, that spending time with her and holding her in his arms again would reveal to him the answers that he had been seeking for a while.

"Hello, earth to Riven! We have a dinner to attend!" Layla said, impatiently snapping her fingers in front of his face. Riven shook his head and turned his attention back to the frowning lady in front of him. He scowled and Layla smirked in return. She was increasingly finding that the snarl of his face was a characteristic feature. She also noted that it gave him a dangerous edge to his brooding looks, making him looking particularly delicious and sexy at times.

'No wonder Musa fell for him,' Layla mused, shaking her head a little as Riven continued to complain about the stiff uniform, the menial labour and the absolute humiliation of it all. It was all very endearing really, the way he continued to protest but still carried on with the duties and tasks he had been assigned. She could see how Musa was attracted to his bad-boy personality that hid a sweeter, inner, big softie. If Musa wasn't so hung up on him, Layla wouldn't have minded going after Riven herself.

'Whoa, dangerous thoughts. Don't go there girl' Layla rebuked herself sternly. But as she watched Riven prance around the room, Layla caught herself watching him intently.

And suddenly, she felt very afraid.