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.

At least, there is some consolation in seeing smudges of darkness underneath his eyes, hinting at a rough night. Not that I am going to ask him about it. It's personal and we don't do personal things, which is why he needs to stop being so caveman-like with how his green eyes roam over me, as if looking for any sign I'm unwell.

My thighs squirm under his scrutiny, making me wonder what is wrong with the space between my legs? Why is anything fluttering? Must be a symptom of over-caffeination.

I freeze when Coleman opens his mouth. Is he going to ask if I'm fine?

"The bonus is mine," I blurt out, invoking the sentence like a safe-word.

"It's mine," he argues, practically automatically.

Good. We both need to remember we are opponents. He is the devil-shaped thorn blocking my chance at redemption. Whatever happens, I can't waver or let myself weaken in front of him.

"Go away," I mutter to emphasize my point.

Judging by the tightening around his mouth, I think he's about to walk away, but he doesn't. He tosses something at me, and I can't help but catch and then drop it on my desk.

"It's not a bomb, Patel."

I look at the deli-wrapped oblong shape. "Then what is it?"

"Someone brought bagels."

"So? Why are you giving it to me?"

"I'm allergic to poppyseeds."

"Deathly?"

"Don't get so excited. We're at work."

I inspect the bagel as if it will explode on me.

"Do with it what you will," he says snidely, finally striding away. "I don't care."

"What was that about?" wonders Leo behind me, a moment later.

"Nothing."

"Did I hear something about a bagel?"

"Someone brought them in."

Leo leaps off his chair. "These animals are going to take them all. I'm going to go grab one, but when I come back, you owe me ten minutes of gossiping time!"

"Ten minutes?! Why?"

"Because I got you a match on Finder. You're going on a date tonight!"