2. REEMA

Off-center conversations build his confidence? Not the worst trait in a man. Trust me, I've seen worse.

"Thank you," says Colin when I shift over a bit. Then he raises his voice—odd choice since I'm right here—and calls out a name.

"Sally?"

I turn. Sally was behind me the whole time, but I hadn't realized. She's an accountant and the oldest employee in our company. Her hair is completely white, but glows with the reflected warmth of her year-round suntan. Freckles dot her nose like friendly signposts that she's approachable, for otherwise the precision of her perfect eyeliner, severe turtleneck, and chin-length bob is easily intimidating.

Collin calls her name again.

She startles to attention, having been absorbed by her phone before. Blue eyes pierce our very souls. "Er–yes?"

"Um, I know we don't know each other all that well," stammers Colin, "except for those moments on the elevator in the mornings, but would you want to join me for—um?—"

"Lunch," whispers Perry under his breath, nudging him in the side.

"Lunch," finishes Colin, gulping hard.

Sally and I meet eyes. Mine have taken a very deer-seconds-after-being-hit-on-the-highway-quality. She doesn't seem to know what to think. Her visibly flushed cheeks arrow into my gut, for they only make her look more stunning.

"Sally? You were talking about Sally?" I find myself saying.

Perry utters a swear that trips over a snort. I don't think I like him anymore, despite the baby Grecian statue curls framing his forehead. Great aquiline nose, too. But snorting at me?

There's a burning flush crawling up my throat as I realize the extent of my blunder. They weren't talking about you at all. My brain shouts at my body to get us out of here, but muscles have atrophied with embarrassment. Colin pulls at his collar, struggling to finish complete sentences. "You're… great, too. I mean… I would… if, you know, but—not—real?—"

"Real?" I squeak, positioning myself now to see Sally again. "Sally hasn't aged in the last ten years."

"Tasteful botox," she chimes in. "I've got an excellent nurse practitioner doing me."

"When we celebrated your forty-seventh birthday last week," I tell her, "I almost fainted with shock! Sally, you're so hot. Seriously hot!"

Colin coughs, audibly choking on that forty-seven number.

People are staring. Not that I've observed anyone specifically outside our bubble of confrontation, but it's like I can sense attention on me. I'm the one standing here, flabbergasted and mortified. I should walk away. I hobble a few steps to the side, but then turn around and go back. It's not fair for Sally to think I don't believe she's real. It's not what I meant by all this.

"Sally is gorgeous and you would be so lucky to have her attention," I announce to them, because Colin suddenly doesn't look as interested. I might also be talking to the whole cafeteria. I don't know. This soapbox is one I want to kick away, but Sally is pressing a hand to her chest as if my words matter. "You were talking about hating photoshop, so I don't know. My mind went to less—less put together women? That's my own hang-up, obviously. But, yeah."

"Put-together," Perry says, crinkling his eyebrows. "I mean, true. She's much, much, much more composed than you."

"Three muches? Was that really necessary, Perry?" I snap.

"There's a reasonable way to present yourself… like you know that, right?"

"We're all real women!" shrieks Sally behind me.

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 are textured when 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?