Page 20 of The Fake Dating War

“No.”

I’m not.

I didn’t sleep because of Patel, but I’m not about to share that information. Or that I only went home after driving around like an idiot, looking for her car. If I had her phone number or email, I could have at least confirmed she wasn’t in a ditch somewhere.

Typical of Patel to burden others without consideration. By driving away, she made me complicit in any accident she might have gotten into. That’s why I kept the local news on while I had dinner, and left it on for the rest of the night. It’s why I kept waking up every half hour to check my phone for updates.

Today, I feel as exhausted as she looked yesterday. Everyone knows she’s pushing herself hard. It’s the bonus. She wants to win. So do I. As soon as it was announced, the line between us was drawn even deeper.

There were shadows under her eyes.

My fingers clench around the empty coffee cup. If I didn’t need the money this year, would I be fighting her this hard? Could I let her win? Would I?

What a disturbing thought. Deliberately losing isn’t part of my personality.

I’m clearly not thinking straight.

The woman gave me the finger before she drove off.

“Is everything good at work?” my mother asks, still digging.

“Great.” I stand up. “In fact, I’ve got to get back to it.”

“Okay. See you later, darling. I’m going to sit here for a while.”

“Message me when you get home safely.”

“I will.”

This shop smells like lavender was doused on the walls. I’m glad to leave, but before I do, I see the pastry tray being refilled with fresh bagels. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I’ve ordered them all to be packed. Two dozen. From the corner of my eye, I see my mother scrutinizing me.

“For the office,” I tell her on my way out.

“That’s considerate of you…” Her voice trails.

She’s surprised.

This isn’t like me.

It isn’t.

14

REEMA

Around noon, Coleman stops at my desk. I hold my breath as if I haven’t been waiting all morning for this moment. It would have happened already and I would have gotten it out of the way if he hadn’t been out of the office for some morning appointment. Knowing Coleman, it could be anything. He could be hounding another client and trying to poach them through intimidation, even though client recruitment doesn’t often do fieldwork, as most of our work is online. Or he might have penned in a quick morning sex marathon. Not that I track or hold any interest in any women he might be disappointing.I don’t.

Once again, he casts a shadow on my desk. I imagine what he’s seeing.

The sweater is clean and unwrinkled, though triple my size. My bun-loop is as good as it possibly can be with my almost grown out bangs restrained by the headband I’ve put on. With the amount of sleep I finally got last night, my face feels fuller and less sunken. As a woman of melanin, I’ll always have some under-eye darkness, but at least my face is no longer serving The Living Undead.

That’s because last night I didn’t drive back to FINAN’s parking lot to keep working. Not because I’m taking care of myself, but because I slept through my alarm. Still, it’s the longest amount of rest I’ve gotten in so long. Does he see? The color is back in my cheeks. There’s no reason for him to report me unfit to our boss or to dig into why I fainted.

As he looks at me, I take my turn scrutinizing him, as if saying,Don’t get too familiar, Coleman. I’ll bite back.

His shadowed jaw needs tending, the ends of his hair curl under his ears, and his collar is slightly askew. If life was fair, the unruliness would mess with his looks, but unfortunately, it makes him even more suited to cover an outdoor men’s magazine selling rugged strength.I’m so capable of whittling wood and hunting down squirrels that all I have time for is to splash lake water over my pits to get clean. Who has room for grooming?

Can you tell I’ve never been camping? But also, someone needs to confer with the universe. Turn this man into a proper troll.

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