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’sFattoush.”
“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 thedressing,” 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 Itoocasual 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.