The Trouble with Hating You

by Sajni Patel

  “And risk getting beat in public? Try it,” I jested.

  He laughed, and I gently shoved him.

  After our gym time, we headed to our cars. I placed a towel on the driver’s seat for the drive home.

  “So, you’re really not interested in Liya?” Jahn asked, still standing next to me.

  “I’m not. She’s nice enough once you get to know her, but Ma doesn’t need her attitude or to deal with the avalanche of rumors surrounding her.” I shook my head and jangled the keys in my hand.

  “Then you’re open to considering a different woman?”

  Not really. “Perhaps, eventually, but not right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let this mess cool down before I give Ma hope again.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I feel like we’re in high school and you’re trying to get me a prom date because the girl I want is taken.”

  “So Liya is the woman you want?” He grinned hard.

  I punched him in the arm, and he faked a serious injury by grabbing his biceps and cringing.

  “I ask because there is a woman who’s interested in you. She just finished pharmacy school. Her parents are nice. And she goes to mandir every weekend with her family. We know her parents. You’ll be seeing her around a lot now. Her name is Kaajal, Mukesh Uncle’s youngest daughter. She’ll be at the baby shower, so you can check her out in person.”

  My face heated, prickled with annoyance. “Did you give her any reason to think I’m at all interested?”

  “No. She doesn’t know you know about her interest.”

  “I’ll be cordial. That’s all I can promise. Rushing into considering someone else doesn’t sit right.” Not wanting to linger on marriage prospects, I looked down at my sneakers and asked, “Are you sure you’re not mad about Dad?”

  He gripped my shoulder with one broad hand. He looked me in the eye and said in a stern, authoritative, and promising voice, “I will never lie to you. I have never and will never blame you. What happened was tragic, but it happened because Dad was a hero. He was a hero.”

  I nodded once. Jahn gently slapped my cheek. “I gotta get home to check on my babies before work. We’ll see you at mandir this weekend?”

  “Sure.”

  I drove home and, once inside, peeled off sweaty clothes before reaching the bathroom, tossed them into the hamper, and took a quick shower. As I rushed through the morning routine, my thoughts drifted away from Dad. The assurance that Jahn didn’t lie about his feelings toward me, us, everything in regard to Dad, helped. Thoughts of Liya from our time sitting on the edge of her bathtub hit me instead. Was she a bath girl or a shower girl? Was she taking a shower at this very moment? Hopping on one foot and praying she wouldn’t slip?

  As I rubbed soap down my sore chest, I imagined lather gliding down her body, across her smooth skin, bubbles forming and breaking, teasing glimpses of dewy flesh.

  I groaned. What was wrong with me?

  Shaking my head, I hurried out of the shower, dressed, and picked up breakfast. It wasn’t until I took up the entire space of Liya’s office doorway that I’d snapped back to reality. How did I get here? With not just my breakfast in hand, but hers as well?

  She swiveled in her chair, set her pen down, and stared at me. “Um, do you have something for me?”

  What was this strange feeling looming in my gut and swarming around my face? Was it…was it embarrassment?

  She lowered her gaze to my hands. “Is that breakfast?” Her question was more of a sneer, and while most people’s embarrassment level would rise, mine fell flat.

  I raised the bag of breakfast sandwiches and the drink carrier with two coffees. “You think I’d bring you breakfast? I just worked out, and I’ll need this to keep going in case I don’t get lunch, which I sometimes don’t.”

  The briefest splash of red dotted her cheeks, but she rolled her eyes and clamped down what could’ve easily been a smirk.

  “Unless you’re hungry. I might be willing to share.”

  “I’m fine. Why are you here, then?” she asked.

  “Checking in on your foot.”

  “It’s okay. Should be back in heels next week.” Just as she finished her last word, her stomach growled like a starving bear. She bit down on her pink-stained lip.

  “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

  “I can ask Wendy to get me something.”

  I held the bag up, and she shook her head. Sighing, I sat down on a chair across from her and unloaded the sandwiches on her desk, pushing one wrapped meal and a cup toward her.

  She inhaled the steam rising from the coffee without touching it. “I’m very picky about my coffee.”

  “White chocolate peppermint latte, half skim, half soy, no whip, extra white chocolate sauce on the bottom and a drizzle on top.”

  Her gaze shot up, watching me over the rim of the cup with a hint of incredulity. “How’d you know?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe we like the same drinks.” Or maybe Wendy had told me the other day when she balanced three cups of coffee in the elevator.

  Liya clamped her mouth shut but covered the warm cup with her petite hands. Her glossy red nails clicked against the sturdy paper cup, drowning out the muted sounds of others in the hallway beyond the open door.

  “It’s okay,” I assured her.

  “I don’t think you did anything to the coffee.”

  “I mean it’s okay to smile because someone brought you your picky-ass latte.”

  She took a sip. “We’re not friends, you know?”

  “No one forgets being told they’re not friends,” I said teasingly, knowing full well she didn’t want to be friends but yet, here we were.

  A smile crept across her lips, even though she tried hard to stop it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Liya

  Of the fifty reports I handed out today, only ten made it back to me. At the end of the day, I sat in my chair and tapped the arms. This wasn’t going to make the reports come any faster. I suspected many of my coworkers stayed on board for that lingering paycheck or dwindling hope that the company might survive while they looked for jobs elsewhere. I couldn’t blame them. I’d been perusing jobs boards, too. I was even considering a downgrade and taking that position in Dallas. But this type of poor work ethic would unravel the company faster.

  I pushed away from my desk and headed to the labs. If they weren’t going to do their work, then I’d have to do it.

  I donned a lab coat, avoided the janitors as they carefully and meticulously cleaned around me, and worked. I worked like a kid right out of college, desperate to prove myself.

  With goggles pressed to my face and my hand cramping from delicately moving and mixing tiny portions of chemicals, a delicious smell floated through the air.

  My stomach rumbled, and I groaned, “Dan…how many times do I have to tell you to keep your food away from the labs? That’s just disgusting, you know?”

  “I think Dan is already gone,” a rich voice replied.

  I almost dropped the beaker and whipped my head around. Jay stood in the doorway. He held up two white paper bags, and the aroma shocked my senses for a second.

  We stared at each other for a moment. He wasn’t going to back down, and I didn’t know how to respond. We weren’t friends. But I was hungry.

  Eventually, I caved and removed my goggles and lab coat, and walked to the door to hang them on the hooks. Jay didn’t back up, only lowered his hands and looked down at me.

  The building was cold with its industrial-strength air conditioner, but the labs were even chillier. Yet, in this particular moment, we might as well have been outside in the muggy, warm night because Jay’s body heat invaded me.

  I cleared my throat. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” he replied.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be one.”

&
nbsp; “Okay…Are you stalking me? That’s what this feels like.”

  “No. When I saw that your car was still here, I knew you’d be working late, and I brought dinner on the off chance you’d still be here.”

  “Wouldn’t you have felt silly if I wasn’t?”

  “Thanks for saving me from an awkward moment with myself.” He grinned.

  My stomach groaned painfully.

  He chuckled and turned, walking out into the hallway and then into the empty, dimly lit lounge. He pulled out four foil packages, two rectangular in shape, two circular ones, and a bag of chips. I bit my lower lip. Tex-Mex was akin to kryptonite. The air burst with the aromas of seasoned meat, hot tortilla chips, cheese, and grilled peppers. I hardly knew a Texan who wouldn’t cave for the rich dishes that were a unique blend of Texan and Mexican tastes. There were just some things most of us were predisposed to like: barbeque, cobbler and pies, iced tea (always sweetened), bluebonnet season, festivals, and Tex-Mex.

  He handed me a fork and pushed a soda toward me.

  “Are you fattening me up?” I joked as the smell of spicy, cheesy enchiladas wafted up out of the newly opened container. My fork dove into the mass of red sauce, hungrily trying to pick up every element, including sour cream, pico de gallo, and guacamole. So warm and perfect on my tongue.

  “Curves aren’t a bad thing.” He leaned across the table and watched me like I was parading around in see-through lingerie.

  “Honey, I got plenty of curves,” I retorted and just about snapped my fingers. Then I went after the fried avocado taco smothered in cilantro-lime hot sauce.

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Heat washed over my face, but I didn’t react, much less look at him. When was the last time a guy made me feel remotely close to flustered?

  I only ate a bite of the smoldering black beans in one of the round containers. No need to be bloated and gassy. But the queso blanco in the other container was too delicious to resist. I dipped a crispy, warm tortilla chip into it. Some of the cheese dripped onto my wrist and down my chin. I patted away the warm, gooey trail with a napkin, but honestly, I could’ve drunk queso straight out of the container.

  “Are you not hungry?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked as he dissected a taco with a fork and knife and took a bite.

  I gaped at him.

  “What?”

  “You eat tacos with a fork and knife?”

  He shrugged.

  “How dare you,” I whispered.

  He laughed.

  “With your hands.” I pointedly nodded to the taco.

  He sat back and grinned. “You want me to do what with my hands?”

  “Eat.”

  I watched and waited as he lifted the taco to his mouth. On the second bite, the filling spilled out and dripped down his wrists. It was oddly gratifying. I laughed, but he merely shrugged, winked, and licked his fingers. It was just food, right? It wasn’t as if Jay licked seductively, or watched me watching him. It wasn’t anything remotely sexual. So why in the world was his tongue so mesmerizing?

  Clearing my throat, I said, “How did you know I’d like Tex-Mex?”

  “It was a guess. There was a pretty good chance that you liked it. Now I know for sure.”

  “Well, thank you. Although you shouldn’t have gone to any trouble. But I’m never going to say no to queso.” I dipped another chip into the liquid cheese.

  “Noted. And you’re welcome. It wasn’t any trouble. I was hungry, too. What are you doing working in the labs?”

  “The majority of those who stayed on board aren’t working as hard. They don’t care.”

  “It’s not solely your responsibility to keep bio going.”

  “Who else will? I’m not going to fail because no one else cares. They might as well leave. Then we’d have a reason to fall short: not enough staff. But with so many still on payroll dropping the ball…If I accepted that, then I might as well not stay, either. It’s better to quit.”

  “Then quit.”

  “I’m not a quitter. Besides, I still need a paycheck, too.” I pushed around the last of the shredded lettuce next to my partially eaten enchilada.

  “You’re supposed to manage them, file all the details. You can’t do this, work around the clock.”

  I rubbed the soreness out of my shoulder. “I’ve only been doing it for a few days.”

  “How long will you keep doing this, though?”

  “Why do you care?” I jammed the plastic fork into the remaining bite of food.

  He shrugged. “Friendly conversation. Is there anything I can help with?”

  “Do you have a bio degree?”

  “Nope.”

  I twisted the straw in my soda, the plastic against plastic screeching in the sudden quiet, and glanced at his nice, cream button-up shirt. He’d left his suit jacket and tie elsewhere. The top buttons were undone, the collar open, offering a glimpse of a white tee underneath.

  A wicked curl lifted my lips.

  “Uh-oh. What do you want me to do?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Oh…I need some stuff cleaned and prepped.”

  “Grunt work?”

  “Yep. Are you still interested?” Of course not. No snooty lawyer in expensive threads was interested in playing lowly lab assistant.

  Instead of reminding me of how late it was, that he needed to be up early, or any number of viable excuses, Jay rolled up his sleeves and exposed wide, muscular forearms. His gaze never left mine. There was something extremely sexy about the way he did this.

  I shook my head.

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  I smiled and stood. “That’s okay. I’ll have the morning crew clean up. It’s the least they can do.”

  “It’ll slow them down even more.”

  “Well, I can’t do their job and clean up the mess. That’s too much. Again, thanks for dinner.” I returned to the lab and slipped a coat back on. I flipped my hair over the collar and jumped when Jay appeared beside me.

  His buttons were completely undone. He pulled off his dress shirt before I could protest. I didn’t really want him around me all night. He made it hard to think. I wanted alone time, not chat time.

  He went to grab a lab coat, but I pointed at the short-sleeved ones at the end, the ones meant for grunt work so the sleeves didn’t get in the way. He put one on, buttoned it up, and followed me to the sinks, where I instructed him on how to wash equipment. He finished in no time, and after a quick inspection to make sure he had done it correctly, he moved up to filling bottles and then back down to cleaning when I finished my portion.

  The entire time, he kept earbuds in. Once in a while, he hummed or sang, and I was rather impressed. Not just with the voice and rhythm, but his willingness to get dirty and his silent agreement to keep quiet and out of my way.

  When Jay finished everything, unable to do one more thing without having lab experience, he pulled up a stool at the end of my table, leaned his elbow on the slab, and rested his chin in his hand. To watch me.

  I glared at him through the corner of my eye. “What?”

  “Aren’t you tired?” he asked, his voice gravelly, fatigued.

  “No.”

  “It’s three in the morning.”

  “Crap. I have to be back in four hours.” At a quick glance, it didn’t appear that we had done anything all night. The place was clean and organized, but the reports weren’t done. I returned to work on the diagnostic reagents.

  “You’re staying all night, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yep. I want this staff to walk in and realize that I stayed here all night to catch up on their work.”

  “To make them feel bad?”

  I shook my head. Of course not. “To encourage them. A short while ago, I was their coworker and their friend. If they see that I care and will do the work, that I’m not above them, then…maybe they’ll step up. But you can go home, get some sleep. You don’t need to stay here and torture yourself.”

  “And leav
e you here alone at three in the morning?”

  “Nothing will happen. We have a security guard.”

  He ignored me and took out his phone, obviously answering emails or taking notes. But that was okay, because I was back in the zone quickly enough. He faded away, and before we knew it, the doors opened and staff trickled in.

  They paused at the door, lab coats and goggles in hand.

  “What’s going on?” Amar asked.

  Jay stood, nodded at me, and excused himself.

  “Since we’re not reaching our production quota, I’ve been staying all night to catch up,” I replied.

  “Oh…are you taking the day off then?” Amar asked.

  “Nope.” I brushed past him. “I still have my own work to do.”

  I placed the lab coat on its hook and returned to my office. At lunch, I could run home, take a quick shower, and change clothes. Even if everyone knew that I’d worked twenty-four hours, there was no need to look or smell the part.

  A few people upped their game over the next few days, but I kept working extended hours, took naps in the office, and had brief dinners with Jay when he insisted on staying with me during those long evenings. The nights became shorter as more staff worked harder, but getting home before midnight seemed to be a thing of the distant past. Jay didn’t talk much, and after the first night, he brought his own things to work on once he finished the underling tasks.

  Friday hit hard. We made it to midnight, and I could’ve passed out. My eyes drooped. Jay’s were bloodshot, and I felt a little bad, but not that bad. No one asked him to stay.

  He gave me a ride home, which I admittedly took advantage of. I was too tired to drive, and he already knew where I lived.

  “See you this afternoon for the baby shower?” he asked, his words almost slurred. Okay. Now I felt awful.

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded. We pulled up to the front lobby of my apartment complex, and he leaned over to open my door. His arm brushed against mine. His hair was a black shadow beneath my chin when he froze and slowly backed away.

  “All right,” he muttered.

  “Are you going to make it home safely?” I asked, worried.