Chapter 2
From that day on, I started getting up an hour early instead of just forty minutes.
Now that I was cooking for two, it was twice the ingredients and twice the work.
It wasn't a big deal.
I packed her lunch in a new, round lunchbox I bought. It was light green and looked pretty cute.
"Why'd you pick green?" Ben asked, eyeing the lunchbox.
"Got it on sale," I replied.
"You sure it's not because she wore a green jacket the other day?" Ben teased.
"Man, you talk too much," I said.
Every day at noon, I'd drop the lunchbox on her desk, and she'd shove her sad little salad box aside like it never existed.
She did it so smoothly, like she was born for this, not even giving those lettuce leaves a single glance.
"What's for lunch today?" she asked, popping the lid and leaning in as the steam washed over her face.
"Chicken wings, snow peas, and borscht," I replied.
"Wow," she said.
She let out a little gasp, then buried her head in the food and started eating.
She stayed totally silent while she ate, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, laser-focused on her lunch. Every now and then, she'd sneak a look at me, with sauce smeared at the corner of her mouth, didn't even care to wipe it off.
I tossed her a tissue.
"Wipe your mouth," I said.
She caught it, wiped her mouth, and mumbled, "Thanks, Alex."
I nodded and went back to my own lunch.
*****
And just like that, a week went by.
Then two weeks.
Then a whole month.
It was like clockwork, Monday to Friday, noon sharp, not a single day missed.
After a while, I started picking up on some habits.
She always skipped the cilantro.
She had a serious thing for anything sweet.
Soup was always her grand finale. She'd grab the bowl and chug it all in one go.
After lunch, she'd wash out her lunchbox and drop it back on my desk the next morning. And every single time, there'd be a surprise candy inside, sometimes strawberry, sometimes grape, sometimes mint.
I ended up with a whole stash of them in my drawer.
Ben rifled through my stash of candy wrappers and let out a dramatic sigh, like a mom fussing over her kid.
He clicked his tongue. "Tsk."
"If you have something to say, just say it," I said.
"Dude, what is this? Some kind of pet-raising sim?" Ben teased.
"It's just making an extra lunch," I said.
"Then why not make one for me too?" Ben grinned.
"You weigh 180 pounds, maybe skip a meal or two," I shot back.
"Oh, so now you're discriminating against fat guys?" Ben retorted.
I ignored him.
By the second month, I started noticing even more about her.
It wasn't like I was trying to spy on her, but honestly, it was impossible to miss.
For example, Emily barely spent any money.
She never bought milk shake. The milk shake shop downstairs was basically a daily hangout for our whole team, but she never joined in.
She never ordered cake for afternoon tea. Every Friday, the girls in the team would split a cake, but she always said, "I'm not hungry."
She rotated the same few outfits, a beige knit sweater, a white T-shirt, a gray hoodie, and a pair of jeans.
Her phone was a three-year-old model, with a crack in the bottom right corner of the screen.
All the signs pointed to one thing.
Emily was broke.
I got it.
She'd just graduated, probably still paying off student loans, and her family probably wasn't well-off.
So in my mind, making her lunch was no big deal, just something I settled on.
It was nothing, really.
Just lending a hand, that was all.
But Ben didn't see it that way.
"You know what everyone's gossiping about you two?" he whispered, leaning in all secretive one afternoon.
"Gossiping about what?" I asked.
"Everyone thinks you two are a thing," Ben said.
I paused, fork halfway to my mouth.
"Who says that?" I asked.
"Dude, it's all over the office. You bring her lunch every day, she washes your lunchbox and leaves you candy, and you two eat face-to-face at noon. If that's not couple vibes, what is?" Ben grinned.
"I'm just doing charity work," I muttered.
Ben burst out laughing, that kind of "yeah, keep pretending" laugh.
"Charity, huh? You call it charity when you buy her a new lunchbox and remember all her food quirks?" Ben teased.
"I remember you hate celery too," I shot back.
"So why don't you ever bring me lunch?" Ben complained.
"You wish," I said.
He choked for a second, but didn't let it go.
"Alex, I'm serious. If you're really not into her, you should just tell her straight up. Otherwise, she's gonna start overthinking it," Ben said.
I was quiet for a few seconds.
I glanced up at Emily sitting across from me.
She was coding, earbuds in, the glow from her screen lighting up her face.
Like she sensed my gaze, she suddenly turned to look at me.
Our eyes met for a second.
She tilted her head and mouthed, "What's up?"
I shook my head.
She smiled and went back to typing.
I really wasn't interested in her like that.
I knew exactly where I stood.
My salary was 4,000 dollars a month, no car, no house, nothing special about my family. As for looks, I was just average, not ugly, not handsome, just the kind of guy who blended into a crowd.
Emily might dress plain, but her bone structure was on another level. She almost seemed to glow, her lashes were like little umbrellas for her eyes, and when she smiled, those two cute fangs always showed.
We were just in different leagues.
I was just the kind of guy who couldn't stand seeing someone go hungry.
That was all there was to it.