Page 60 of Cava with My Colleague

That’s all.

After the last attendee leaves and I’ve packed up my laptop, Carlos approaches me. I don’t want to talk to him. I especially don’t want to talk to him when we’re alone.

But he stops a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking uncertain.

“Jade.”

“Yes?” I don’t look up from zipping my laptop bag.

“Why are you so angry with me? It’s none of your business.”

The words hit me like a slap.

I finally look up at him. “Right,” I say, keeping my voice carefully level. “It is none of my business. But I’ve shared things with you and you’ve used them against me. Whereas I know nothing about you, except that you’ve never liked me. Oh, wait, that’s personal.”

His expression hardens. “Just because I have boundaries doesn’t make me a bad person. I’m just trying to be appropriate in the workplace.”

There’s that word again. Appropriate.

“When have I ever been inappropriate?” My voice is rising again and I don’t care. “Is this all because I asked you out on a date? You said no, and I moved on. I’m past it, Carlos.”

“Obviously,” he snaps back.

We stare at each other, the space between us crackling with tension.

“You really don’t think you’re inappropriate at work?” His voice is incredulous.

“Don’t you dare,” I hiss, stepping closer. “I’ve had enough people tell me I’m too much. Enough bullshit with people thinking that just because I dress a certain way I’m ‘inappropriate.’” I make air quotes with my fingers. “Just because I want to look good, just because I don’t dress the way people expect a scientist to look, doesn’t give you the right to⁠—”

“That’s not what I meant⁠—”

“Then what did you mean, Carlos? Please, enlighten me.”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just . . . we’re very different people.”

“No shit.”

“Just because I have boundaries⁠—”

“Boundaries?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You kissed me, Carlos. You pulled my hair and kissed me and told me you wanted to take me to dinner. And then the next day you couldn’t even look at me. Don’t talk to me about boundaries when you’re the one who crossed them.”

He flinches. Actually flinches.

“That was a mistake,” he says quietly.

And there it is.

The words I’ve been dreading since he walked away from me in that hotel hallway in Paris.

“A mistake,” I repeat, my voice hollow.

“Jade—”

“No, you’re right. It was a mistake.” I hoist my laptop bag onto my shoulder. “We got caught up in the moment. The presentation went well, I shared something personal, and we . . . got carried away. It happens.”

“It’s not that simple⁠—”

“Actually, it is that simple.” I force myself to meet his eyes. “You’re right. We’re colleagues. We’re very different people. I’m leaving soon anyway. This was never going to work.”