I groaned underneath my breath, catching up on as much as I could with the real-time program we used for mind-mapping and assignment cards. Who was in charge of site-mapping in my absence? I couldn’t find a single digital notecard. Also, where had the drafts gone for the new site page? Gabrielle wouldn’t…would she? I’d never been blocked in my life.
Okay, whew! I was in, but why was everything moving so slowly?
In Asana (our project tracking program essential for agile methodologies), I checked for any assignment movement. The kanban board, where overall tasks were delegated in the form of digital cards organized by columns, hadn’t changed, aside from adding Gabrielle in lieu of my place. There were about three to six oval profiles of each researcher assigned to a card. Some cards, more detailed or smaller assignments, had one or two profiles responsible for the task. The scrum board was similar, tacked on with additional labels and deadlines, although two assignments had been recycled for the next project. The roadmap, however, showed actual progress in the way of graphs. There was movement there. No red labels showing urgent attention.
All was good. The only problem, since this was a real-time program, was that others could see if I was live (aka logged in). If I made a single change, my name/profile would be time-stamped in the card’s history. Here’s hoping Gabrielle wouldn’t actually lock me out during my vacation. Still, I had to be careful. Hmm, maybe with the time difference I should wait until later.
Slurping my ice-cold water after a tasty but overtly sweet coconut concoction, I pondered on what to do with the rest of my day.
It had been a wonderful, peaceful five days of vacation filled with different scenery across the massive lot of hotels, family fun and great eats with Kimo and his family, and the usual going here and there for my favorite foods. Since Diya worked most of her regular hours and I had no intention of driving, I caught up on reading poolside or on the beach, and worked up the nerve to swim in the lagoon. And by swim, I mean get deep enough that my feet didn’t touch the ocean floor without freaking out. I could swim, but the current paired with small waves and knowing there was plenty of marine life in the water kept me on edge. I was not here to die.
A nap sounded nice right about now. I rubbed my eyes, nearly knocking over my glass. I caught it just in time. I didn’t care if my clothes got wet, but not my device! Not today!
It was then, when I gingerly set my partially full glass of water away from my tablet, that I noticed a man watching me. My heart raced at the first flicker of recognition because no way. No mother-freaking way was my work nemesis sitting two seats away from me on my vacation.
That thick, disheveled hair, short-sleeved button-down shirt with the top button undone, shorts, sandals…looking all kinds of nerdy tourist. The only thing missing was a camera hanging around his neck and a dollop of sunscreen on his nose.
The intensity of his dark brown eyes beneath perpetually furrowed brows settled on me in a way that said he’d made a point to ensure I knew that he’d noticed me. My shoulders slumped forward, giving me that weird crane-neck look with my chin in the air. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. The devil was real, and he meant to torture me.
“Oh my god. What are you doing here?” I balked, hoping this very unlikely run-in was not actually with the man I thought I was seeing. There was a negligible chance.
He grunted, and in that Denzel voice, assuring me that he was real and that he was here, said, “What are you doing here?”
Damnit, Sunny. It was always him. Running into me at the office, bumping my chair during in-person meetings, glaring at me through virtual boxes, cap-yelling exchanges filling up my chat boxes.
“I’m on vacation,” I retorted, although I’d asked the question first.
“Same,” he said.
I dramatically looked around. “Of all the places to go on vacation, of all the places on this island alone, of all the places in this hotel itself, why are you here? Next to me? Now everyone’s going to think we went on vacation together.”
“Are you planning on blabbing on social media?”
I narrowed my eyes. “We work with smart people. They’ll figure it out.”
“No, they won’t. I don’t get into details. Maybe you shouldn’t, either.”
“Excuse me? How would you know? We’ve never had a personal conversation.”
“I know,” he said, turning back to his empty glass.
The stress of trying to get into work unnoticed had been replaced by Sunny’s presence. He was triggering. We always, instantly, fought. It was like a dog and cat sensing each other. Primal. Uncontrollable.
I released a pent-up breath and slurped my water. He was not going to ruin this vacation. He was a tourist and would go out and do touristy things. We would not, aside from chance encounters at the large pool or the even larger beach at the cove, see each other, and even that was unlikely.
“Why are you wearing sweatpants in this heat?” he asked after a beat.
“Should I be baring my legs for just anyone?”
He stuttered as I gave him a “Well, what the hell?” look complete with jostling head bob that our people had mastered over the centuries. His lips twitched. “You look ridiculous.”
“No one asked for your opinion on my appearance. And you’re one to speak.”
“What?” He looked down at his clothes.
“Epitome of tourist combined with the awkwardness of developer. I just can’t with you. You stick out like a sore thumb. Well, not here in this hotel or in this area because it’s filled with your kind, but go anywhere else and you might as well be holding a sign that says: ‘tourist.’ ”
“And you’re not one? At least I’m not baking in my own clothes.”
“My sister lives here, and I hang out here so often that the staff knows me by name. I know all the local spots, and no, I won’t be divulging such secrets to an outsider, and I know many of the customs and words and, ya know, culture.”
“So basically, you come here to work at the bar in your sweats?”
I scowled. But yes, he was right. “Why are you vacationing here?”
His rigid posture slackened when he replied, “Here for a friend’s wedding.”
You’d expect someone attending a destination wedding at such a beautiful location to be more excited, but Sunny seemed anything but. Well, whatever issue he had wasn’t my problem, despite wanting to know because, ya know, I was nosy.
I commented, “It’s a bad time for a wedding here. Didn’t the couple know about Ironman?”
His expression fell flat. “Apparently not.”
“Wow. You’re such a great conversationalist.”
“I know.”
I gritted my teeth. Sunny and his famous short, blunt replies. Why was I letting him get to me? I wasn’t here for him, and again, we wouldn’t run into each other often, if ever, while he was here.
