Written by a Woman

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

ZAID

The thing with playing the long game like I was, is that the woman you’re romantically interested in has no idea that you are, in fact, romantically interested in her. I have been enjoying the friendship I have been developing over time with Signe, and I love spending casual time with her throughout my workday. However, because of professional boundaries and my bending over backward to keep my attraction toward her a secret, I am now seeing the downside of my plan.

Like when Signe came back from her lunch date.

Sure, it was a bad date. She made it very clear she wasn’t interested in seeing the guy again.

But when was she going to feel the need to go on another one?

Was I delusional for thinking that we had both been working towards something together? There were multiple moments in the past few months where I could have sworn she was feeling for me just as I was feeling for her, and yet the fact that she went on a sudden lunch date implies otherwise.

How much longer would it be for her to quit work here, or me to wait the appropriate amount of time to ask her out after she quits so I don’t seem over eager, and then have us going on a first date?

She needed to wait for me, for us, but I had no way of communicating that to her without crossing several ethical boundaries in the workplace. That, and there was still a very real possibility that when I eventually asked Signe on a date, she would be uninterested in doing so. So, there I was, standing awkwardly at Signe’s desk while she vented to me about the loser she went to lunch with. Focusing way too hard on settling my facial expression into a relaxed one. Keeping my hands loose, instead of tight fists, hopefully coming off as friendly and listening, and not a man thinking, I want to grab your phone and delete every dating app you have downloaded until I can make my intentions clear like an overbearing psychopath.

It wouldn’t be until later that night, when I visited my mother’s house again for our weekly dinner, that an idea came to mind. A purely selfish idea, that I refused to feel guilty about. I was watching my sisters load up my mother’s Tupperware with the many leftovers that would surely last a week and a half when I asked if I could take a few containers off of their hands.

My sisters, somehow, gave me looks that implied that they knew exactly why I was suddenly going out of my way to take enough leftovers for two people.

I ignored them.

The next day when I approached Signe at her desk, holding two Tupperware containers filled with my mother’s homemade cooking, I wondered if I was being too obvious.

“Do you have plans for lunch?” I asked her, lifting the second container as evidence to back up my entirely false claim, “My mom doesn’t seem to understand that I am one person, and can’t eat all of this on my own.”

Signe’s eyes lit up as a grin spread across her face, making me want to kiss her so badly that the muscles in my arms tightened with restraint. I was thankful that my hands were already busy holding the containers.

“I’ll never say no to Mama Ansara’s cooking,” Signe typed a couple of things on her computer before standing from her chair and making grabby-hands at the Tupperware I offered her.

“Thank you,” I smiled as I handed it over and we both started walking towards the break room, “Now it won’t all risk going bad.”

And that was how, a couple of times a week, Signe Lange and I started having lunch together. At first, I was nervous about this new routine because I usually ate lunch at my desk, or at whatever restaurant during another meeting. However, in my head, it was more important to rearrange my schedule for the foreseeable future, so that I could spend lunch with Signe. Perhaps, by spending half of the week’s lunches with her under the guise of having too many leftovers to eat myself, she wouldn’t feel the need to log back onto her stupid dating app and waste time with a man who probably wouldn’t be worthy of her attention anyway.

It was during the second week of this routine that Signe’s work friends joined us for the first time. As I watched Mary, Signe, and Jamie laugh and chat about their days, I wondered if I was holding Signe back with my plan. Perhaps I was keeping her from finding someone who she would be happy with.

I then decided that I didn’t care.

I wasn’t allowed to tell her how I truly felt due to my employment status, so I was settling for being possessive of her time just this once. Realistically, Signe could still go out with other men after work. Or on the weekends. Or whenever she felt the need to take time off.

I found myself frowning at my meal at the thought, wondering if maybe I could find a way to keep her busy during the evenings as well.

“Are you not feeling it today?” Signe asked as she nudged my bicep with her elbow.

“What?” I snapped my gaze in her direction, feeling the touch of her elbow on my arm long after she removed it.

“You’re frowning at your food,” Signe raised her dark red eyebrows at me, “If you’re not feeling salad today, I’ll eat yours.” She reached forward to grab my food, and I reacted by grabbing the bowl with both of my hands and dramatically leaning away from her with a look of concern.

“Back off,” I grumbled at her with a teasing smile, “I like to savor my food, unlike some.” I gave a pointed look at the empty bowl in front of her, before setting my bowl down and reaching for my water bottle to take a sip.

“Huh,” Signe shrugged, “If I enjoy it, I swallow.”

I immediately started choking on the water I just drank at her words, taking a fist, and pounding at my chest while Mary cackled at Signe’s innuendo.

You’re still at work.

She’s just messing around.

She would have made the same joke whether I was here or not.

She’s your employee.

“The sad thing is,” Signe giggled with her friend, a blush coating her cheeks, “I didn’t even mean it that way. My brain just thought, ‘Yeah, that’s a normal thing to say to your boss’.”

“I’m not your boss ,” I countered after clearing my throat, desperate for any pitiful excuse to justify my infatuation with her, “But don’t let other employees hear you make jokes like that.”

Mary suddenly, loudly, cleared her throat and nodded her chin towards the breakroom door, and Signe and I both looked over our shoulders to see Jacqueline walking into the room holding a takeout container in her hands.

“Be cool!” Signe hissed before gently kicking my leg underneath the table. I grinned at her before taking another drink from my water bottle, and I focused on Signe’s gaze which had dropped to my throat to watch me drink. Her eyes glazed over just the slightest bit, in a way that made me wonder if she liked what she was seeing.

Then I remembered I was just taking a drink of water, and realized there was probably nothing attractive about that for her to admire.

“Can I join you all?” Jacqueline asked, stepping towards the table with a takeout container in her hands. It looked like she had entered the room to grab something, but then pivoted when she saw all of us there.

“Of course,” Signe kicked the chair next to her out for Jacqueline to take.

I had never seen Jacqueline eat with these women.

Or eat anywhere other than her desk.

“What’s that?” Jacqueline asked, looking at the food in front of me.

“Salad,” I replied.

“No,” Signe gave me a dramatic look of annoyance before sitting straighter in her chair and holding her pinched fingers up as if she were a musical conductor, “It’s Fattoush .”

“What’s Fattoush?” Jacqueline asked.

“It’s a salad,” I rolled my eyes, “Signe is just excited to learn a new word.” This happened when I asked if Signe was in the mood for salad today. When she asked me what kind, I responded with Fattoush, which is just a common salad found in Syrian cuisine.

“This was one of the best salads I have ever had in my life,” Signe ignored my comment as she turned to give me her back, facing Jacqueline more directly, “Large chunky tomato, green onion, fried eggplant—which isn’t gross like you’d think it’d be.”

“I don’t think eggplant is gross,” Jacqueline’s lips twitched in amusement.

“With crunchy little bread noodles—” Signe continued.

“—You mean deep-fried pita,” I interjected.

“—And the dressing ,” Signe sighed dramatically before taking her pinched fingers to her lips and kissing them repeatedly to emphasize her love for it.

I was immediately jealous of her fingertips.

“So, in conclusion,” Mary interjected from across the table, “It’s a salad.”

“But made with the love of Mama Ansara,” Jamie added with a small smile as she took a bite of her muffin.

“That’s right,” Signe nodded as she stood to rinse out her bowl, “My compliments to the chef.”

“Actually,” I scratched the back of my neck, wondering if I should reveal this truth or not, “I made this one.”

“You did?” Signe’s mouth opened a little bit, like what I said surprised her. I immediately panicked that she was onto me.

I nodded, trying my best to look casual about it, “Yeah, I needed to use the produce before it went bad.” She didn’t need to know that I wanted something lighter for lunch today and went to the store last night specifically to throw this salad together for the two of us.

“Ah,” Signe nodded before continuing over to the sink, “Makes sense. Glad I could help.” Was that disappointment I heard in her voice? I immediately started spiraling. Was I too casual just now?

Signe sat back down in her seat before giving me a sly look and turning towards Jacqueline, “So, Jacqueline, I walked by your office this morning and saw you in the zone.”

Jacqueline scrunched her eyebrows at Signe, taking a moment to chew and swallow her bite of teriyaki chicken before responding, “What do you mean?”

“You were focusing on something at your computer,” Signe leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and not breaking eye contact, “With your earbuds in as you bobbed your head to the music you listened to.”

Jacqueline’s brow loosened as she nodded, “Yeah, I was finding the answer that Alice had about benefits and such.”

Alice was the newest software engineer, something Mary was very excited about because moments earlier, she had been complaining about how there wasn’t enough “fallopian energy” in the engineer’s side of the building.

“What music were you listening to?” Signe asked; something about the question feeling a little sneakier than it needed to be.

“I can’t remember,” Jacqueline lifted a shoulder, and it was probably the only time I had seen the woman casually lift her shoulder.

“What do you normally like to listen to?” Signe pressed.

Jacqueline’s body tensed, before she met Signe’s eyes, “I don’t know, a little bit of everything I guess.”

“Speaking of music, want to hear my latest Taylor Swift theory?” Jamie spoke up, giving Jacqueline a friendly smile as she waited for our answers.

Signe gave up her interrogation of Jacqueline’s music preferences, settling in her seat and giving me a look as if we were both in on some sort of secret.

I just stared at her, hoping for some sort of explanation, before she smirked and turned away, focusing on the conversation happening around us. So, I looked back at my food, quietly listening to the women chatting around us. I noticed while sitting at the table, observing the women chatting, how Jacqueline seemed to relax a little bit more as time passed.

She wasn’t nearly as talkative as Signe or Mary, but she still seemed less…stiff.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket as the conversation ensued. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I saw that my family text thread was going off as my mother tried to plan dinner with my sisters and Ben.

As well as the separate sibling chat that I had with Raina and Salma.

Raina: Any updates on Red?

I smirked before thumbing back my response.

Me: No. Go away.

Raina: But I want to know if anything is happening, because she’s still posting about the book. Did she tell you about it at all?

I furrowed my brows.

Me: No, not yet.

Salma: Do you need some advice on how to woo a lady? Small, casual touches go a long way if done correctly, is all I’m saying.

Me: I think I’m capable of wooing all on my own, thanks.

I felt my heart skip a beat in my chest at the question, remembering all of the times in the last few weeks that Signe had laughed and gently tapped my arm with the back of her hand. A few days ago, I said something to her laced with heavy sarcasm, and I’m upset that I couldn’t quite remember what it was that I said because it made her bend over laughing as she grabbed my forearm to brace herself.

I was too distracted beaming from the grip she had on my arm to remember what made her laugh so beautifully.

“Is our conversation boring you?” I heard Signe ask from my side. I quickly checked the time and closed out of the text thread, shifting in my seat so I could slide the phone into my jeans pocket.

“No,” I replied with raised brows, “I would much rather discuss Taylor Swift theories than get ready for my next meeting.”

“I could write down the notes from this important discussion for you to review after your meeting,” Signe winked at me, and I couldn’t stop the jump in my pulse from the sight even if I wanted to.

I nudged her arm with my elbow, a move I hadn’t done a ton in the last few weeks but was thrilled to find an excuse for whenever an opportunity arose, “I expect a full debrief on why Mary thinks every song in her newest album is about that one guy from that one band in an hour.”

Signe gave me a thumbs up along with her bright smile, making Mary and Jacqueline chuckle at our plan. Jamie’s eyes bounced between us, a small grin on her lips.

“Enjoy your boring meeting,” Signe wiggled her fingers at me as I stood up from the break room table, turning back to the discussion with the other women.

I met Jacqueline’s eye behind Signe’s back, a look on her face that I couldn’t decipher, and decided that I didn’t want to. The last thing I needed was for the head of HR to sniff out my inappropriate crush on our office manager. Jacqueline was loosening up the longer she worked at Sun Steer, but I didn’t want to make her suspicious since I had already directly asked her about the ethics of workplace relationships.

I nodded politely in farewell at her, and excused myself, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans and wondering how much longer I could keep my attraction toward Signe a secret.