Page 67 of Hate You, Maybe
I think he’s coming around on my clipboards.
Chapter Nineteen
Dex
After our successful brainstorming session, Sayla and I head to Bob and Hildy’s office to present them with the new plan. They seem thrilled. Dare I say, impressed. Honestly, I’m impressed with us, too, although collaboration or not, we’re both leaving here tomorrow focused on the same end goal we had when we arrived: Landing the grant money.
Only one of us can win. And the more I learn about Sayla and her department, the less I want to take the grant away from performing arts. But I guess we’ll just have to cross the FRIG bridge when we get to it.
Friggin’ bridge.
In the meantime, Bob and Hildy send us off to join a group slotted for an afternoon trail hike. Tori and Caroline are in the group, too. So are the nurses and the guys in pharmaceutical sales.
And Hogan.
I grunt when he lines up behind Sayla at the trailhead. The man’s not evil or anything. I just don’t love the way he always finds excuses to brush up against her. And his eyes follow her around, whether or not they’re paired up or in the same group. It’s like his corneas have strings attached to her, and I need some metaphorical scissors to cut the thread.
So I make a point of squeezing in between them, my back to Hogan. “We should be on the lookout for poison ivy while we’re hiking,” I warn Sayla. “It’s got the same oil as mango skin, so let’s stay to the center of the trail if we can, away from any foliage.”
We. Yep. I said it.
“How did you even know that?” She blinks up at me, bewildered. “I had multiple outbreaks before the doctors made the connection.”
“I couldn’t fall asleep for a while last night, so I did some research on my phone. After you told me you’re allergic, I wanted to know more.”
This is all true, but Hogan sends up a scoff behind me. He must be skeptical about my motives. “Really going the extra mile there for a coworker, huh, Dexter?”
I glance over my shoulder. “She’s also my roommate, and I don’t want her up at all hours scratching because of a rash.” I figure with this answer, I’m not only proving my loyalty to Sayla, I’m also reminding Hogan that she and I share a cabin. And as we head up the trail, I make sure I’m positioned directly next to her, keeping my body between her and the edge of the mountain. Since the path is only wide enough for two people, there’s no room for Hogan.
Sorry, not sorry, man.
The two of us set a brisk pace, instinctively pushing each other and pulling ahead of the rest of the group. Without the distractions of phones or clipboards or forced collaborations, we slip into easy conversations about our lives before we met.
Like the time Sayla got to bottle-feed a baby monkey at the Lincoln Park Zoo. Her mom was working at a restaurant there and dating the manager, so he arranged the special treat. “I’ll never forget cradling this tiny animal that seemed more human than the people at the zoo,” she says.
Unfortunately, a few months later, the manager cheated on her mother with a woman working at the aviary.
“Per her usual pattern, my mom immediately gave notice and broke our lease. So long, Illinois.”
“Rough pattern.” I wince, wishing I could defend young Sayla.
“Eh.” She shrugs. “Drop in the bucket by then.”
I nudge her shoulder. “Having a bucket full of hard drops doesn’t sound so hot, either.”
“You’re right about that.” She puffs out a laugh, panting while we climb. “So what about your bucket? You must have at least one or two hard drops in there.”
“Yeah, sure, I do.” My chest goes tight. Sayla’s opening up to me. Letting me in a little. And I want to do the same. But I never talk about the hardest drop with anyone. So instead, I tell her about the time I lost a tooth at school, and caught my mom slipping money under my pillow that night.
Sayla groans. “You figured out the truth about the tooth fairy pretty young, then.”
“Yep,” I say. “The dominoes fell for Santa and the Easter Bunny, too. All the magic lost, all at once.”
“Brutal,” she says. “Mr. Choose Happiness hits rock bottom at six years old.”
