Love Is Like Water Spilled

By the new interns second week, I kept a dark blazer at my desk out of habit.

It was necessary. Whenever I wore a dress, shed conveniently pass by and compliment me loud enough for the whole office: So brave, Summer! Wearing a princess dress with skin that dark.

Nathanielmy boyfriend and my bossjust watched, sometimes chuckling with the guys.

If I stumbled with files, shed clap and say I was faking it. If I drank strawberry milk, shed clutch plain milk and ask if I was trying to act like a kid.

I endured it, over and over.

Until yesterdays presentation. She glared at a typo on my slide and remarked, dripping with meaning: Some people dress to get attention, but cant even do their work right.

Every eye turned to me and Nathaniel.

All the anger Id held in finally snapped.

I threw my half-full water glass in her face.

Before I could process it, Nathaniel stood and threw his coffee at me, in front of everyone.

That night, I resigned.

When Nathaniel threw the coffee, I didnt flinch.

The scalding liquid streamed down, soaking into my blouse. Hed thrown it with such force that the cup made a dull thud against my cheek before clattering to the floor. A fiery, stinging pain shot through my nerves as my skin instantly turned a blotchy red.

I looked up at him, stunned.

His hand was still frozen in the air, as if he, too, was shocked for a moment. But that flicker of surprise was immediately replaced by a deeper, more profound annoyance.

"Summer, did you have to make a scene? Right here, right now?"

The blue glow of the projector highlighted the sharp, tense line of his jaw, making him look like a stranger.

Whispers broke out around the conference table. Some people ducked their heads, pretending to be absorbed in their documents.

Amber Jones, the intern, slowly closed her laptop, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. "Easy there, Mr. Shaw. Don't be so harsh. Look, you've scared the poor girl speechless."

Her words were like gasoline on a fire.

Nathaniel snatched a folder and slammed it onto the table. The loud bang made everyone jump.

He glared at me, his face a cold mask. "This is a professional office, not your living room. Anyone who can't separate their personal drama from their work has no place on this team. This is your only warning. One more time, and you're out."

The room was deathly silent.

I touched my dripping face and felt a hysterical laugh bubble up inside me.

Twelve years.

I had known Nathaniel since we were kids. I had been in love with him for twelve years.

He always said I was immature, too emotional.

But this was the first time he had ever publicly humiliated me.

My eyes burned.

The suppressed snickers in the room felt like a tidal wave, washing over me as colleagues whispered to each other.

Amber leaned against Nathaniel's side, her red lips curved into a victorious smile.

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned and walked out of the conference room.

I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I couldn't stay there, facing them.

Outside, the sunlight was blinding. The glass doors of the office building reflected my pathetic image: makeup streaked and ruined by the brown liquid.

I went to a convenience store and bought a pack of wet wipes and a face mask. The young cashier girl looked at my sorry state and quietly slipped two extra strawberry candies into my bag.

Clutching the candy wrappers, I stood by a trash can, and was suddenly thrown back to my first day of kindergarten.

Nathaniel had done the same thing then, pressing a strawberry candy into my palm and promising he'd always be there for me.

Nathaniel and I went way backback to sharing a playpen and wearing matching onesies.

Our families were next-door neighbors, and our moms had joked about arranging our marriage while they were still pregnant.

When I started middle school, a group of girls decided to make my life hell. Theyd hide my homework, splash ink on my skirts, and "accidentally" hit me with the ball during gym class.

The worst of them was the class president, Liz.

She once threw a meticulously crafted art project of mine into the trash, then smirked and said, "It was so ugly, the teacher wouldn't have looked at it anyway."

I went to our homeroom teacher, my eyes red with tears. She just patted my head. "Liz is the class president, Summer. She's just trying to motivate you to do better."

That night at dinner, I silently pushed rice around my bowl, trying not to cry. My dad noticed something was wrong, and was about to slam his chopsticks down and march to the school.

Just then, Nathaniel's dad stopped by to ask my dad to go fishing. He heard the story and turned, yelling into his living room:

"Nathaniel! Starting tomorrow, you walk your sister to and from school!"

The next day after school, Nathaniel kicked open the back door of our classroom.

He grabbed Liz by the collar, dragged her to the front of the class, and said in a low, dangerous voice, "You're the one who's been bullying my sister?"

At fourteen, he was already taller than most of the teachers, with a glare that could make a high school thug run for the hills.

Liz was shaking like a leaf. Her little gang of followers shrank in their seats, silent.

Before he left, Nathaniel tapped the chalkboard with an eraser, sending a cloud of chalk dust into the afternoon sun.

"Let's get this straight. Summer Lane is with me. You got a problem with her, you got a problem with me. Got it?"

After that, no one ever bothered me again. And I, in turn, stuck to Nathaniel like glue.

When he played basketball, I held his jacket on the sidelines. When he went to the internet cafe with his friends, I sat on a stool beside him, doing my homework.

Nathaniel would always scowl at me. "Summer, can you please stop following me everywhere? My friends are making fun of me because of you."

But I didn't care.

Day after day, year after year, his gruff dismissals softened into resigned sighs.

At the university freshman orientation party, I performed a dance in a white dress. When I came off stage, I saw him clutching my jacket, his eyes darting away, a suspicious blush creeping up his neck.

"Seen enough?" I teased, poking his chest.

He was so flustered he dropped his phone, fumbling three times before he could pick it up. "Whowho was looking at you? I was watching the host..."

Later, at a family New Year's dinner, our parents started teasing us. "So, when are we making this childhood engagement official?"

Nathaniel didn't say anything. He just quietly peeled a shrimp and dropped it into my bowl.

I ducked my head to hide my smile.

The idiot's ears were so red they looked like they were about to bleed.

Life was moving along predictably until Amber Jones showed up.

Amber was the new intern, and on her first day, she made the rounds with a tray of Starbucks, handing out coffees to everyone.

"Please take good care of me, everyone!"

As she passed my desk, the ends of her chestnut curls brushed against my keyboard, and the cloying scent of her perfume made me sneeze.

She stopped, her eyes widening in mock surprise as she took in my pink computer, pink thermos, and pink mousepad.

"Oh. My. God," she gasped, taking a dramatic step back and covering her mouth. A peal of laughter erupted from her. "It's the 21st century. Are there really girls who are still obsessed with pink?"

The entire office looked up.

My ears burned. The stares of my colleagues felt like needles on my back.

Amber wasn't done. "Wow, you even have a pink mouse! And is that a Lolita-style dress you're wearing?!"

A buzzing filled my ears. Ive always loved cute, pink things and frilly dresses. It was a preference that had always drawn commentssome boys in elementary school had called me a poser, some girls thought I was being extra. But most people were kind, telling me the style suited me.

This was the first time I had been so maliciously mocked in public. The shame was suffocating, as if Id been stripped naked in front of everyone. I froze, my cheeks on fire, my fingers twisting the hem of my dress.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm just kidding! You're not actually mad, are you?" Amber leaned in conspiratorially. "Honestly, the pink Lolita thing is cute on you. It makes you look so young."

"That's enough," a sharp voice cut in.

I turned to see Nathaniel, his brow furrowed, his gaze like daggers aimed at Amber. "You're a new intern. Is this really how you want to spend your first day? This isn't a comedy club. One more stunt like this and you're out."

But Amber's eyes just lit up. She tilted her head, sizing him up, and bit her lip with a playful smile. "I'm so sorry. I was just trying to be friendly with my new colleague. I promise it won't happen again."

HR eventually intervened and, in a stroke of cosmic irony, assigned Amber to the desk diagonally across from Nathaniel.

From then on, she paraded around the office every day in flawless "no-makeup" makeup and four-inch heels. Sometimes, she would "accidentally" spill coffee on Nathaniel's reports, then apologize with a pout. Other times, she would lean over his desk to ask for help, "unintentionally" flashing her lace bra and cooing, "Nate, can you help me check these numbers?"

And I never wore one of my Lolita-style dresses to the office again.

Two months later, I realized with a jolt that Nathaniel and Amber had actually become friends.

That morning, he brought me breakfast as usual. But instead of my favorite strawberry yogurt drink, it was a carton of plain milk.

"Milk makes me break out, remember?" I asked, holding the carton.

Nathaniel was busy adjusting Amber's monitor. "Don't be so dramatic," he said without turning around. "You're twenty-five, not five. Stop drinking that sugary kids' stuff."

Amber turned around, twirling the carton of milk she was drinking between her fingers. "Sorry, sweetie! I was the one who wanted milk. But honestly, what kind of adult still drinks that syrupy-sweet stuff?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're not trying to act younger than you are, are you?"

Smack.

I slapped the milk carton down on her keyboard. White liquid splattered across her brand-new designer blouse. "Do you just love telling other people what they should like?"

The office fell silent.

Amber's eyes instantly welled with tears. "I I just thought milk was healthier. Summer, please don't be mad. It's my fault."

"Summer!" Nathaniel grabbed my wrist. "It's not like you're lactose intolerant. What's the big deal? And Amber's not wrong. You need to grow up and act your age."

I looked at the impatience in his eyes and suddenly lost the will to argue.

Ambers attacks became a slow-drip poison in my professional life.

At lunch, if I used a sanitary wipe to clean my utensils, shed tap her bowl with her chopsticks and announce, "Attention everyone! Her Royal Highness is about to dine!" Her clique would perform exaggerated bows, and someone even started filming.

When the department rearranged the seating chart, I was carrying a heavy box and stumbled. Amber started laughing and clapping. "Look, everyone! The Disney princess can't carry her box! Where's Prince Charming to come to the rescue?" She'd playfully shove a male colleague toward me. "Go on, it's an honor to help a princess in distress!"

At first, Nathaniel would frown and say, "This is an office, not a playground."

Amber would just sway his arm and pout. "Oh, you're no fun! It's just a joke. Summer doesn't mind, right?"

But lately, Nathaniel had started just watching in silence.

Amber would lean in close to him, whispering just loud enough for me to hear, "Don't you think she's just so fake? That whole innocent act doesn't really fit in with the rest of us. I'm just trying to help her fit in, you know? For the team."

I saw Nathaniels eyelashes flutter. After a moment, he gave a quiet, "Hmm."

In that moment, I understood.

In his eyes, my love for frilly dresses was just an affectation. My preferences were childish.

So when I saw Amber toying with Nathaniel's tie clip later that day, shooting me a triumphant smirk, for the first time, I didn't feel a pang of jealousy.

On the first day back after the New Year, I had just settled at my desk when Amber's cheerful taunt cut through the morning quiet.

"Summer, if I had your confidence, I could do anything! Look at you, wearing a dress like that even when you're so dark-skinned. If I were you, I'd never dare. Is this look supposed to be Snow White, or more like African tribal princess?"

Nathaniel was sipping his coffee. I saw his shoulders shake with a suppressed laugh, the latte in his mug rippling.

Amber, encouraged, pressed on. "And honey, at your age, isn't it a little late to be playing dress-up?"

The water in my glass flew before my reason could catch up.

Her carefully tattooed eyebrows began to melt. The glue on her eyelash extensions turned milky white. Her foundation streaked, carving pale yellow rivers down her cheeks. She looked like a cheap oil painting caught in a downpour.

"Summer!" Nathaniel seized my wrist, his grip like iron. "Where are your manners? Apologize to Amber. Now."

His nails dug into my skin. The pain made my vision swim.

I stared at his cold, furious face and laughed. "Why should I apologize? For what?"

"For throwing water on her!" he snarled, his voice low and menacing.

My eyes burned. "Didn't you hear her? She's been mocking me for months! If anyone should apologize, it's her."

"You could have told her to stop. You could have argued back. You don't get to resort to violence," he said, his tone infuriatingly self-righteous. "This is a workplace. No one is going to coddle you. Apologize."

I let out a cold laugh. "No. I did nothing wrong, and she doesn't deserve an apology."

Nathaniel looked at me with an expression of profound disappointment. "How did you become like this? Summer, I'm so disappointed in you."

"Funny. The feeling is mutual."

He opened his mouth to say more, but I cut him off. "Are you done? I said I'm not apologizing. What are you going to do, call the cops?"

A bitter, angry smile twisted his lips. He grabbed the cup of coffee from his desk and, without a moment's hesitation, threw it straight at my face.

I froze.

For a second, he seemed to freeze too.

I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Nathaniel, we're done."