The Intersection Between Love and Hate

Karli hurriedly walked towards me, smiling. I could tell there was something she wanted to share. "Have you seen the new supervisor?" She walked and talked at the same pace, although quiet, so no one could hear her question. The sound of her voice indicated that there was something exciting about this new person, but I was confused.

"Wait," I paused, causing her to also stop in her tracks. We both glanced around us quickly and then looked at each other, "I thought you were offered that job?"

She let out a sigh and flashed a grin, "I turned it down and grabbed the lead position instead!" Happy with her scoop, we strolled through the dining room. Sure, it was still a promotion, but with less stress on her plate. The hours danced with flexibility, allowing her to wear a leader's crown without the heavy supervisor cape. I threw some confetti her way and then circled back to her question. I hadn’t laid eyes on the new supervisor; usually, I'm in the loop about new hires, but Karli's crew was front of house while mine was in the back, living in their own little worlds. If I won't be elbow-to-elbow with them, I tune out. The front of house crew has a revolving door—mostly younglings, fresh out of high school or college. Meanwhile, the back of house is like a fine wine, getting better with age, with most of us climbing the ladder from dishwashers to culinary wizards. We’re a chatty bunch, grumbling about modified orders and quirky requests, but we love the hustle. Karli, at 30, had been at Sky View Terrace for at least three of my years in the kitchen. She was the responsible type, taking pride in her work—just like me, which is why we vibed so well. Two serious gals navigating the restaurant scene in a sleepy little LA suburb that could use a splash of excitement!

That’s when he walked out of Rosie's office—towering at 6 feet with dark hair, piercing dark eyes, sporting a neatly trimmed beard that beautifully framed his full red lips, which seemed to invite a kiss (or maybe it was my wishful thinking). Dressed in suave grey slacks and a salmon button-down that screamed “I’m here to impress,” he casually strolled with his hands in his pockets, nodding like a sage while chatting with Rosie the manager. His voice? Oh, it was like warm honey—deep, rich, and oh-so-smooth, blending authority with a gentle touch. When Rosie saw us, she signaled for him to follow her so she could introduce us.

His presence was magnetic, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. As he approached, the room seemed to quiet, as if holding its breath in anticipation. He offered a gentle smile, and I felt a warmth spreading through me, a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Hi," he said, his voice deep and inviting, "I'm Alex."

I blinked, trying to steady my racing heart. "Hi, Alex," I replied, managing a smile. "I'm Jamie."

We chatted for a while, and I found myself captivated not only by his appearance but by his kindness and sense of humor. It was as if we had known each other for much longer than just a few moments. The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the connection between us. It was the beginning of something unexpected yet wonderfully intriguing.

Well, that's how it felt for me. I do tend to romanticize the smallest of interactions. Each fleeting glance and brief exchange becomes a story in my mind, filled with layers of meaning and emotion. It's as if I can see the world through a lens that magnifies the beauty and significance of everyday moments. This tendency has its drawbacks, of course, as it sometimes leads me to read too much into things. It allows me to experience life with a depth and richness that I cherish. These small moments often hold the greatest magic, transforming the ordinary into something truly extraordinary.

At least in the beginning.

If you truly knew me, you’d realize that I can envision an entire lifetime of thoughts in a brief moment. When I connect with someone I’m drawn to, I start imagining the potential future we could share and the happiness it might bring. I ponder the kind of couple we would become and how we would enjoy our time together. My friends tolerate this daydreaming because, in other aspects, I am quite rational and sensible. Plus, I have a talent for making an incredible lasagna. Being friends with a chef definitely has its perks.

Being a woman in a male-dominated industry is fulfilling since I get to do what I most enjoy and lead the kitchen team, predominantly composed of men who must follow my direction. I've been with Sky View since I was 26, and now at 31, I find myself in this unique position. Most of the men are older than I am, except for Rocky, one of our more recent hires—to clarify, he is the last male cook hired three years ago. We now also have two new female cooks in the kitchen, Zinnia and Ella, who both contribute to making my job even more enjoyable.

The thing about these well-seasoned cooks is that their main desire is simply to cook. None of them wants to take charge; instead, they prefer to create their dishes while listening to music and flirt with the housekeepers. Sky View Terrace is nestled within a stunning resort and is just one of the many dining choices available to visitors.

I believe I have discovered the perfect workplace. The environment is friendly and welcoming, the grounds are beautifully maintained, and our restaurant enjoys a stellar reputation as a community favorite. When others learn that I work at Sky View Terrace, they often seem impressed, stating that I must be a world-class chef to have gotten a job there. Trust me, no one outside of the resort has ever heard of me, but I take in the compliments with grace. Our guests primarily consist of wealthy retirees of some affluence, although I have noticed a few families as well. This resort is the perfect destination for those seeking relaxation and tranquility. While there are numerous social activities available, the resort truly caters to individuals who prefer a more leisurely pace.

Throughout that first week, I continuously overheard our guests buzzing about Alex. There was significant interest in the new supervisor, which led some of our regular ladies' groups to visit more frequently. He interacted well with the guests, delivering a level of service that demonstrated both experience and was particularly appreciated due to his charm.

It was nearly impossible to tear my gaze away from him the moment he strolled into the kitchen! This guy was a total rock star back there—hard at work, juggling plates and bussing tables like a pro. He'd stack those dirty dishes with efficiency, flashing smiles and gratitude at our dishwashers like they were his best pals. Sometimes, he’d hunt me down for menu tips or to get my personal faves, and I’d be all business on the outside while my insides did a happy dance and my cheeks turned into tomatoes! I'd check with Zinnia if I was glowing like a neon sign once he was gone, and she'd assure me I looked totally chill. But then Ella would chime in with giggles, teasing me relentlessly because, let’s be real, I totally had a crush! Zinnia would playfully scold Ella, but it was all in good spirit. Working with those two that made work feel like a breeze and time flew by quickly.

Whenever he was near, my stomach felt like jelly. The way he said my name in that deep, honeyed voice was incredibly alluring. I found out through the grapevine that he was newly single, having relocated to our resort city after ending a five-year relationship. I confessed to Zinnia and Ella that, indeed, I had developed a crush on Alex. The only complication was my marriage.