Page 3 of The Fake Dating War

My first reaction is also hissing, a knee-jerk outrage. But it’s covering up bone-deep resignation. Has it really gotten that bad? Looking down is painful. It’s as if the lights have turned on, and I’ve been scurrying in the dark like a gutter rat, and now there’s a mirror in front of me. My eyes trail down the length of me.

There is oversized fashion which I’ll always love, and there is wearing a hoodie that doubles as protective outerwear impervious to hazardous waste zones because it’s so thick. That hair-loop of mine bounces on my head like a second personality. Pants aretexturedwhen they shouldn’t be. And I’m fairly sure I’ve put on deodorant today, but shouldn’t I have zero doubt?

In front of everyone, I am suddenly very much embarrassed I left the house looking like this. Wow. I’m not my best, and actually so far out from being my best that the path back isn’t clear anymore. How did it get like this? When did I stop caring? What happened to me?

Harry.

No, not just him. My fault, too. So much of the blame is on me.

“Hey!” Colin stands up. “I have a sister,” he says, finding his own soapbox. “Many sisters. They’re all real—my many sisters. But you remind me of someone who’s got struggle, Reema, is all I’m saying. In a polite way, of course. Not saying you do, dude. But I had this uncle who drank, and he’d wake up every morning not really seeing what he was putting on.”

I flinched when he called me a dude. And kept flinching for the rest of it.

“Tell her, Colin,” says Perry, also standing to support his friend. “This isn’t misogyny. It’s concern. And, Sally, even if Colin isn’t interested anymore, I am. Very much so.”

“Sally has a husband,” I curtly inform them. “They’ve been together for twenty years, and he sends the office cupcakes every year for her birthday. He’s fucking fantastic.”

“Get it Sally!” yells a spectator, chomping on their bread roll.

“You, um, wouldn’t be half-bad if you cleaned yourself up a bit,” offers Colin, who is also edging himself out of this conversation, kind of standing up. “There’s someone hot underneath all that,” he tells me.

“Thank you, Colin,” I say with what I hope is scathing sarcasm, but sounds too soft for my liking.

“What can we do?” asks Perry. “Do you want my slice of cake? I heard disappointment in line when you were told there weren’t any more slices left today. Audible pain in your voice, dude.”

“How dare you bribe me with?—”

The chocolate frosting twinkles in the light.

“Fine.” I swipe his plate.

Sally comes over and also steals Colin’s cake. “You don’t deserve this, either.”

As we stride away, I hope our dramatic exit can repair my shredded ego… self-esteem… the crushing loss that I wasn’t being hit on, but am thought of as a gremlin with possible substance abuse issues. Sally joining me in this walk-out is a mini-triumph, but that doesn’t matter when I see who is standing by the door.

He smirks at me.

My entire stomach cramps.

Not him.

Anyone but him.

How did I not realize that Jake Coleman was watching?

3

REEMA

Jake Coleman has just witnessed everything that happened to me.

Other strangers in the lunchroom I’ll hide from. Maybe I’ll stagger the timing of my lunch, taking it first thing in the morning to avoid this particular crowd. But this—him?—

To say Coleman is my office enemy is a laughable understatement. He’s the six-foot-two fortress standing between me and everything I’ve been sweating, exhausting, and practically contorting my body to win this year. He’s my direct competition. We’ve got the same position in our company. Client recruitment.

And every year we fight for who is the most successful agent signing the biggest portfolio of clients. It’s always been a gladiator pit of cut-throat dueling between us, but this year is way worse. The stakes have completely changed.

See, Mr.Davies instituted a new incentive program. The employee who brings in the biggest portfolio of clients by the end of our tax year receives a twenty-five percent bonus. A quarter of your salary will be added to your commissions.

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