Page 50 of Not Safe for Work

I glance up at him with a dubious look.

“We’ll be fine,” he repeats before he clicks the button, darkening the screen. “Is there a reason this bothers you so much? Did something happen?”

My gaze swings to him, impressed at his perceptiveness.

“I was in a cyclone once,” I say. “My family was vacationing in India and we were spending a day at the beach. The wind picked up. It felt very sudden, and my dad was out in the water, and he—”

My chest constricts. I was eight years old, but I still vividly remember that day. We were lounging on the beach, having a wonderful afternoon. My brother was six at the time, and we were building sandcastles when someone started shouting for my father to come in from the water. It was like a switch had gone off. One moment, everything was calm, and the next, it was like the world was ending.

The wind swelled, and the waves were rolling, and I still remember my father going under, disappearing beneath the waves. My mother was screaming his name over and over. It was the longest few minutes of my life. I don’t know how long he was missing, but somehow, he surfaced and came out of the sea, collapsing on the beach. I remember people helping us, trying to revive him as the rain pelted us like stones.

We ran for cover and then had to hunker down as the storm raged for two days. The sounds of the wind and water and the buildings groaning and collapsing are still stamped on my memories. My mother held me and my brother the entire time, but it was the most terrifying thing I can remember.

“I was so scared,” I say to Rafe as he listens intently to every word. “It’s not like I’m paralyzed with fear—I just get nervous.” My tone is sharp, daring him to make fun of me, but he shakes his head.

“I didn’t think anything scared you, Malik.”

My eyebrows draw together. “Everyone fears something.”

“I suppose, but you’re always so confident.”

I test the words in my head, searching for a barbed meaning woven into the syllables. But I detect nothing. Still, I’m suspicious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s a compliment.”

Another one. Why is he doing this? He’s trying to lure me into complacency. To let down my guard, and when I’m at my weakest, when I’m a wounded dragonfly plastered to his windshield, he’ll flick the switch and smear me against the glass.

“Me? I’ve literally never met anyone who thinks as much of himself as you do.”

That doesn’t offend him at all. In fact, he grins, and I have to look away as I’m mortally wounded by that dimple. “I can see why it might seem that way when you’re as obsessed with me as you are.”

My mouth opens. “I am not obsessed with you. I cannot stand you.”

As the words leave my mouth, I feel them for the lie they are. A few days ago, it was the incontrovertible truth—well, the second part, anyway—but today, I’m less confident about where I stand on the matter.

“That’s why you used to pass by my desk a hundred times a day?”

I blink. He noticed that? It was years ago when we worked in different areas of the building, back when we used to bicker and needle each other with harmless pranks. “How could you possibly have known that? You’d need to look away from the mirror for more than ten seconds.”

“So you don’t deny it?” he counters.

“Your office was on the way to the bathroom. Get over yourself.”

Strictly speaking, I could easily have avoided passing by his office if I wanted to, but I’ll die right here before I admit that.

“Did you ever see a specialist?” Rafe asks. “No one should pee that many times a day.”

“I hate you,” I say, and he laughs.

After that, we both fall silent as we sit side by side, observing the chaos.

“Plenty of things scare me,” I say after a while.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Honestly. Literally everything sometimes.” I hesitate, wondering if I should reveal this much of myself. But Rafe is looking at me with trust in his expression, and I allow my truth to fall. “Never being good enough. Never figuring out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Knowing that what I’m doing here isn’t the right path for me.”

“Why do you say that?”