Page 38 of Return on Love

He licks his lips and closes his eyes for a moment. “I… I’m sorry. It’s unprofessional. I shouldn’t have done that. My mistake,” he says, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead.

I let out a deep breath and nod slowly. “You’re right,” is all I can say. I don’t know where it would’ve led if he hadn’t stopped. Or rather, I do know, and I’m glad he had the sense to stop us before we did anything more foolish. I’m here for work. He’s my client. And worst of all, I’m not sure if I still hate him with the same intensity. What was I even thinking?

He stands up, reeling a little, and almost stumbles to the door. He straightens his shirt and runs his fingers through his hair. “I… I better leave now. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Um, yeah. I’ll see you in office tomorrow,” I say, not able to think of anything better, as I close the door behind him. He doesn’t even turn back.

I plop down on my bed and try to calm down my heart rate and my breath. What just happened? It’s left me mildly bedazzled, if that’s the right word. I hated the guy, and he hated me. It was mutual hate. How did hatred lead to a kiss? And, oh my god, what a kiss. One that literally took my breath away. I can still taste him on my lips. I never thought I was capable of such passion. Bob always found me boring, non-experimental, lacking passion. I’d dated others, but had never felt such raw emotions. But tonight’s kiss was awesome. Right? Was it?

Oh, my God! Why did I kiss him? Because now I want to do it again. And I can’t. He obviously doesn’t even want it again. It was a weak moment. The way he was eager to leave, maybe he didn’t even like it. He called it unprofessional. By Yoda! I hate him for saying that. Don’t get me wrong. I think it was. I know it was. But I just wish I had said it instead of him, but the sex-starved me had a brain fog at that moment.

And jeez, he apologized for it. Called it a mistake. It was a mistake. Right? Then why doesn’t it feel like one? God! This man is like Lucifer here on Earth. Making me do things I enjoy, then happily calling it a mistake and scampering off. I wonder why he called it a mistake. Mistake because he thought it’d be good, and it wasn’t? Mistake because it’s unprofessional? Or mistake because as soon as he kissed me, he realized he did actually hate me? Or all of the above?

I bury my head on the soft pillow and feel like tearing off my hair. Why did I do it? Why was I so eager to put my lips on his? Those soft, tasty, oh so devilish lips. How I want to taste them again. I fall asleep, and my dreams are far from PG13.

Chapter 13

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”—Darth Vader

As I wake up the next morning, the first thing that comes to my mind is that I have to face Ryan after yesterday’s ‘mistake’. Just thinking about coming face to face with him, and his full lips that tasted of coffee and mint, makes me go weak in the knees. But it has to be done. I’m not unprofessional, whatever anyone may think. I told him I’ll stay and help and that’s what I’ll do.

I take a little extra care to dress up. I’m not sure why. Is it to please him, or to show him what he called a ‘mistake’ and make him regret it? Perhaps both. But it sure as hell is because of him.

I pick out my most beautiful pink blouse, dab on some kohl for that extra pop in my eyes, and swipe on a coat of pink lipstick. Despite my best efforts, my hair seems determined to misbehave, so I opt for a high ponytail to keep it in check. It’s a style I rarely wear; Bob used to hate my hair tied up, but hey, Bob’s ancient history now. I’ve gotten used to leaving it wild and free these past few years. Sorry, not sorry, Bob. Your opinions are out of my life, along with every other man’s judgments in this world, even those with beautiful blue eyes and delicious lips. Mistake my foot!

I scrutinize my reflection in the mirror. Not too shabby. I even decide to use the bag of earrings Lily gave me ages ago. With my hair typically left to cascade freely, I rarely bother with earrings. Today, however, is different. I select the long, elegant silver ones. Perfect. Now we’ll see who made a mistake! Giving myself a little blow of a kiss in the mirror, I head out the door.

As I enter the office, I’m a bit on the edge. More like one foot off the edge, about to tumble down. It’s weird meeting Ryan after last night. With a tunnel-like vision, I head straight to my room. And I mean it. I didn’t try to take a peek into the office of you know who and see how he’s faring. I open my laptop. If I’m staying here, I better get to work. My previous presentation might not work. I don’t know what the strategy is going forward. But I don’t want to face the one who can tell me that.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I almost jump up from my seat, so high that I think I could’ve hit my head on the ceiling. Okay, maybe not so high, but you get the point. Gabriel is standing right in front of me.

“I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” I shake my head and he continues. “I’m glad you’re back. We were a little worried when you left so suddenly and didn’t pick up the phone.”

“We?”

“Yeah. Nora and I.”

“Ah.” What was I expecting? That Ryan was worried? But he was, wasn’t he? And he came and apologized. And then some more. I think I have a weird expression, because Gabriel is giving me some strange looks. “So, what’s the plan going forward?” I ask in as professional a way as possible, forcing my lips back into a straight line.

“We’re having an all-hands to discuss that. We were waiting for you to join in. Come over to Ryan’s office once you’re ready and we can begin. The others are already there.”

“Let’s go,” I say and begin walking with Gabriel. I don’t want to wait and then enter the room alone.

Gabriel opens the door to Ryan’s office. Ryan is talking. He stops mid-sentence as he sees me. Nay! Stares at me and follows me as I move to an empty chair on the other side of the room. How do I know? Because I can’t take my eyes off those blue beauties.

He recovers first, and tries, falteringly, to complete the sentence that he was speaking before I came.

“So, now that we all are here, let’s get to the point. We have three weeks before the presentation. We want to go ahead with the new strategy we had earlier planned. How do we do it?”

“Two and a half months was tight. Three weeks is impossible. Maybe we should just do first-person shooter type of game,” says Steve.

“I agree. Unless there is an option to opt out,” says another coder, and looks at me. “Is there? Maybe try again in the next quarter or two?”

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” says Ryan. I raise my eyebrows at the Star Wars reference and smile and our gazes fix on each other for a moment. “We all know the problems. They’re pretty clear. I don’t need to exercise your pretty minds for that, do I? Tell me ways how we can do it.”

There’s silence for some time. I look around and see hopeless faces.

“We can’t do first-person shooter. It’s too simplistic. What if we create a prototype that captures the essence of the game, instead of making the whole thing? That should be doable,” I say, if only to break the silence.

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