The Trouble with Hating You

by Sajni Patel

  Ma smiled and patted Liya on the shoulder on the way out.

  Jahn waved goodbye. “Nice seeing you, Liya. You should hang out with us every week.” He purposely did not meet my glare.

  Shilpa hugged Liya and told her the same thing, but she, on the other hand, gave me a purposeful grin. They all seemed to hurry out before Liya could get her shoes on.

  “I’m leaving. I’m leaving,” she muttered as she struggled, her hair in her face.

  I closed the door. She slowly straightened herself, and held one heel in her hand like a stake. “What are you doing?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “You said you were done bothering with me.”

  “After tonight. Fine print.”

  She huffed, “Lawyers…”

  “I want to know if you really, truly, honestly believe that I’m only after you to get you into bed. That I’m not a nice guy, that I’m using you, that I’m another Mike.” I closed the distance between us in a long stride.

  “Yes,” she replied without a beat.

  “Look me in the eye, Liya. Not with all that attitude as a defense. Tell me that I’m another Mike. That all the things I did were selfish. You see how I am with my family, with everyone. Do you seriously think I’m a Mike, or do you just want me to be, so you can keep yourself from taking a chance?

  “Because you know what I think? I think, no, I know that you realized your ridiculously high walls were shaking, just a little, and maybe even coming down, just a little bit. That you like me, as a person, and instead of believing that I am who I am and that you don’t hate my guts, you’d rather believe I’m a Mike, which makes it easier for you to shut me down.”

  “Are you done psychoanalyzing me?”

  “You have yet to look me in the eye and tell me I’m another Mike. I’m waiting…” There could be absolutely no way on this green Earth that she could compare me to that idiot, to someone who hurt her, demeaned her, left her in the middle of the city all alone.

  She looked up. “You’re…”

  “Yes?” I swallowed hard and glanced at her mouth.

  “A…” Her gaze dropped to my lips as I licked them. She imperceptibly leaned into me, as if she might actually cave in and kiss me.

  “You’re not a good liar,” I whispered.

  She snapped out of our moment and chided, “I don’t have to stand here and be coerced into anything. Believe what you want to believe.” She stepped to the right, and I matched her move. She went left and I went left. “Are we going to physically fight?”

  She pushed me with a cockiness gleaming in her eyes. I stepped backward, taking her with me. As I hit the wall, she hit my chest, our arms flailing as they decided where to land.

  I gently took hold of her wrists and slipped my fingers between hers, keeping our hands to our sides. There was an incomprehensible longing when our flesh touched, and even more so when she pressed into my chest, her soft curves melting against me.

  “Tell me,” I half muttered, half groaned.

  She sucked in a breath. “I can’t think, Jay.”

  “Why?” I whispered and tilted into her, my forehead touching hers.

  Her breathing turned erratic, hard. Her lips moved and twisted until she bit them, as if words tangled on her tongue and she couldn’t bring herself to admit anything to me. “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I wish you were a Mike. This would be easier.”

  “I will never be a Mike. And what we have between us isn’t going away.” I released our interlocked fingers but kept her in place with a hand on her lower back, right where it curved out. With the other hand, I cupped her cheek and turned her head to look at me. Liya wasn’t the only one taking a risk. I hadn’t accepted that I deserved a happy ending, and going for one felt a little lost on me. But there was something about Liya, a magnetic pull that compelled me to try. “Why won’t you give me a chance?”

  “I don’t want to marry you,” she replied.

  “No one said anything about marriage.” Although I wouldn’t mind. Liya would keep me on my toes, and after getting to know some of the real her…it was difficult to imagine any other woman as my wife. Who could possibly stand up against her? Against this feisty, strong, vulnerable, imperfectly perfect woman?

  “That’s where you want this to head. If I liked you and you liked me and all the stars aligned, yadda, yadda.”

  “Jumping the gun.”

  “Meeting to get married isn’t jumping the gun?”

  “You are way off. If we’d met…” I caressed her jaw with my thumb. “We would’ve talked. Weeks. Maybe months. Then, if we liked one another, dated. For months, maybe a year. If we still liked each other, hopefully fell in love…” My thumb grazed her bottom lip, and she stilled. “Then we’d get engaged. Then married when you were ready. Does that sound like jumping the gun?”

  “I guess not.” She knitted her brows together, and some sort of logic wore down her fight. She was almost there.

  “Knowing that now, no strings attached, you can walk away whenever you want, or date me for years if you really, really liked me, would you take this chance?”

  “Why do you even want to bother with me?” She shook her head as if she really could not understand my wanting this, my wanting her.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” Her eyebrows shot up as if she couldn’t believe this conversation was even happening, but her voice was soft and quiet.

  I laughed, and she sort of smiled. “You’re intriguing, smart, independent, kind, gorgeous, and no other woman has the ability to make my heart beat so hard when she walks into a room. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

  She took a deep breath. “You’re so good at saying the right words. I see why you’re a lawyer.”

  I licked my lips and tilted my head.

  “Don’t,” she protested weakly.

  “Don’t what?” I asked and leaned toward her. She didn’t move away, didn’t push me.

  I squeezed her waist, and her eyelids fluttered. “So, you don’t want to screw me, huh?”

  I smiled against her lips. “Who said I even want to kiss you?” I pulled away and went to the kitchen. “Would you like wine? Coffee?”

  “Um. No. I should go home,” she replied softly, in a daze.

  It was beyond me how pursuing Liya Thakkar made me this nervous. This whole concept of personal happiness and moving on with my life and living for myself had me shaking. But I had to take another leap before she slipped away.

  Liya opened the door and had stepped halfway out when I said, “Go out with me?”

  She gripped the door, her fingers curled over the white painted slab. She didn’t lean back to look at me. “Fine,” she said with a smile to her voice.

  Then she left.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Liya

  When Jay somehow convinced me to go out with him, I anticipated some fancy restaurant where he’d ask me to wear those stupid shoes he bought. Except those stupid shoes were at his apartment. And he advised that I wear sneakers.

  He took me out on a date, not to a romantic location, but to…laser tag. Glow-in-the-dark laser tag.

  I made a face as he fastened the heavy pink-and-white vest around me, playfully jerking me toward him with each snap. Then he laughed as he helped with my helmet, which was much too big for me. It kept drooping over my eyes, he kept readjusting and chuckling, and I managed not to laugh at this entire situation. What were we? Middle school crushes? For the first time in a very long time, I felt like a kid. In a good way. Not weak or vulnerable or the bane of some adult’s existence, but carefree.

  I watched Jay as he fixed my gear one last time. In this moment, there was absolutely no stress, no wondering what he was really after. If only we could be this way all the time.

  He knocked on my helmet. “Are you all right in there?”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  He flashed that infamously dashing smile. �
��It’ll be fun. Don’t get shot.”

  “Don’t get shot,” I mouthed when he turned away.

  The woman at the front instructed us on how the point system worked, the rules, and other safety information. I followed Jay through double doors, and my eyes adjusted to the dark room, lit with lines and patterns of neon colors.

  An alarm sounded after the two teams split and everyone darted away. I stood alone, wondering where to go.

  Then my vest buzzed. It lit pink and buzzed again. I searched around and saw a young girl pointing her laser gun at me. Oh! No she wasn’t getting any points off this newbie!

  “Come on!” Jay said, grabbing my waist and pulling me behind a large box. “The point is not to get shot!” He laughed so hard that his arms shook my shoulder.

  “I’ve some business to take care of…” I muttered and went after the girl in pigtails.

  “I got you covered,” he called after me.

  But going after this little girl was literally walking into an ambush. A group of teenagers stole my points in a matter of seconds until Jay and another girl came through and wiped them out. He came out Rambo style, without the yelling, and even took fake laser bullets for me.

  We stood back-to-back for a minute, taking all the hits and making just as many. I couldn’t help myself now. There was no controlling my laughter.

  I hunched over and wheezed, my hand on my chest, his arm around me to protect me from a demolishing spray of laser lights.

  “We need to go!” he said, cutting through my giggles.

  He took my hand and we zigged and zagged through, over, and around obstacles. He held onto my waist at some points, pulling me back or helping me maneuver around tight corners or climb short ladders. I was nowhere near as fast as he was, but a few more of these games, and I would be.

  Jay effortlessly made points, but it didn’t take long for my competitive side to roar to life. Our backs hit the plush side of a boxed-in wall.

  “Surprise attack on three…” he said with a countdown.

  These kids were going down.

  Or so I thought. The final takedown was brutal…for us. Our gear lit up in all sorts of colors. When the buzzer went off and the host spoke, I lowered my gun with weak arms. Who knew laser tag was so demanding?

  Jay helped me unclip my vest and helmet. He gently rattled the helmet around. “Not bad.”

  I thought so, too. But according to our scores, I came in second to last.

  I frowned. “That sucks.”

  Jay nudged my arm with his. “It’s just a game. It was your first time, anyway.”

  Two teens from the opposing group walked by, all giggles, and stuck out their tongues. “Oh, I am going to end them. Rematch.”

  Jay laughed and threw his arm around my shoulder, whisking me away to a gelato stand. “If you want to get really rough, try paintball.”

  “You’re treating me like one of your guy friends.” I ordered my favorite flavor, and he ordered the same.

  “I don’t do pressure dates. Does any of this make you feel obligated to sleep with me?”

  “Are we on this again?”

  “I don’t understand why you think all men are the same, or feel that any nice thing for you is an eternal, damning, binding contract.”

  “It’s the dance of dating. Men buy things hoping women put out.” I took my cup and poked a spoon into the creamy pistachio gelato.

  He tapped my nose with the end of his spoon. “You’re wrong.”

  I smeared the light green gelato across the corner of his mouth. “No, you’re wrong.”

  He licked his lips slowly, and a warm tingle filled my insides. He dabbed away the lingering sweetness that touched his cheek and finished his dessert. I wondered if he did that on purpose. Of course he did. Those baiting, sensual gestures.

  We leisurely walked down the street side by side. The crowds thinned as we left the busy entertainment center behind. Our swinging hands accidentally brushed, sending a flutter tumbling through my belly. If I didn’t feel like a middle school girl crushing on the new boy before, then I sure did now.

  I tried not to glance down at our fingers, tried not to indicate what even the slightest touch from him did to me. I blinked a few times just to see if this was real. A man, a hardheaded one at that, made me completely forget where we were.

  We stopped at a small hot dog vendor, and Jay bought two hot dogs while kids ran past us. We followed their direction into the spacious park covered in oak and pecan trees.

  “This is gross,” I mumbled around a bite.

  “Yeah…Are you going to swallow before the next bite?”

  “Shut up,” I joked and butted him away so that I could eat in peace.

  He had one hand around his partially eaten hot dog and the other around my waist. I definitely didn’t mind the soft touches.

  We found a path in the grass to walk along. I inhaled the remnants of my hot dog and wiped my mouth before he saw the mess I had made.

  “Missed some.” He tossed our trash in a bin, took my hand, and licked mustard off my finger.

  Those idiot lightning bolt jitters bombarded my gut. But he would never know that.

  I pulled my hand back and wiped it on the side of my shorts. “Is that the best you can do?”

  “With my tongue? No.”

  “I meant with…never mind.” But now he had me wondering about all the toe-curling things he could do with that tongue. I could not stop looking at his mouth. Why was it suddenly hot? Was the sun rising instead of setting?

  He laughed. “Calm down. Or do you prefer the no-touch rule?”

  “Let’s do that.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “What’s next?” I asked, looking at my watch but secretly eager to spend more time with him on this gorgeous evening.

  He tapped the glass on my watch. “Don’t even pretend that you’re bored. But that’s it. Unless you want to keep walking?”

  “That’s all? You are so unimpressive right now.”

  “Fun. Short and sweet. Room to talk if you wanted, no forced one-on-one interaction, giving you the ability to bail.”

  We paused.

  “Do you want to bail?”

  Trick question. “Whatever you want. This will probably be your one and only date.”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “No. That doesn’t work.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you’d give this a chance, not enforce a limit because you’ve already made up your mind.”

  “Then let’s call it a night.” Why did I say that? I wanted his hand around mine. I wanted to walk into the sunset. I wanted to watch the fireflies and wander around the park until it was too dark to see, too dark for him to notice me shivering every time he touched me.

  I didn’t want this evening to end. But my big mouth, always out to prove something, had spoken.

  He nodded, and we left in our respective cars. Men had taken me to top restaurants and fancy galleries, beaches and resorts. Not a low-key date. But this was by far the best date I’d ever had. It was easy. Casual. No pretenses, no trying too hard. We weren’t rigid or trying to put on our best fronts. We were ourselves.

  I found myself grinning and delighted all the way home.

  And when I slipped into my pajamas, poured a glass of wine, and made popcorn, I subconsciously checked my phone every three minutes. Half a movie later, Jay texted. Simply put, he had a good time.

  I didn’t realize until the end of the week that Jay and I had actually been on more than just the one date. It had been a build of very cautious, innocent moments. I needed someone to lean on about the situation the company had left me in, and he’d been there. Somehow, those little moments turned into borderline dates and a relationship of some kind. Well, some kind of something that didn’t make me want to walk away.

  Every morning, he brought a latte with breakfast and we ate in my office before the day started. He pulled me away from a hectic workplace for lunches across the street. Wh
en I stayed late, he stayed with me. Sometimes we ate dinners in the lab when my team came up short. Sometimes we ate them on the floor of my office, which sounded disgusting, but was quite comfortable and relaxed when I leaned against the wall and ended the night by resting my feet on his lap. He even gave me foot rubs.

  He listened to me talk about my day then talked about his.

  When I looked at it that way, we’d actually been on numerous “dates” and had been “dating” for a while now—not that I wanted that information brought to light.

  But Jay hadn’t mentioned real date plans again, so when Friday ended, I asked him, “What’s next?”

  “Looking forward to spending more time with me?” he asked, his face lighting up.

  “I see you all day, every day.”

  “Just until either this company goes down or gets rid of its legal issues. Then you’ll never see me around here unless we’re still seeing each other. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Think you’re going to last that long, huh?”

  “You might be in for a rude awakening if you doubt it. Tomorrow evening. Same time. Same dress code. We’re going to the lake.”

  “Oooh, are we going fishing?” I mocked.

  “Yes.”

  “Ew.”

  He grinned. When had his smile turned from something I had assumed he flashed at all of the girls to something I knew was sincere and meant only for me?

  All those days until our next official date left enough time to fill in Preeti, Sana, and Reema. Those women pried like no one’s business.

  We met at Reema’s apartment for wedding stuff. I was glad to see Momma here, out and about with women, away from Dad. She was a different person. Dad made her insecure, quiet, a shadow. With Reema’s and Preeti’s moms, she was herself. Free and cheerful and at ease.

  The older women sat on the floor and stitched murals of Ganesh for Reema’s place, which she would share with Rohan after the wedding. The girls had already stuffed nuts and raisins into gold mesh pouches with gold ties. We were to set one on every seat for the wedding as a snack, seeing how long and tedious a Hindu wedding ceremony could get. Reema placed the last handful of pouches into a box beside the front door.