I shrugged. “We’ll see.”
It wasn’t like my modeling or social media game would change anything for her. Or Zack.
In the warehouse, someone pushed a dolly, the wheels whirring under whatever boxes they carried. I peeked through the stacks and caught the flash of a brown uniform.
Cassandra huddled next to me. “What are we looking at?” she stage-whispered.
I flinched and stuffed my phone into my back pocket. “Nothing. I thought I heard a manager coming.” Thankfully, we had more than Andre around to run things at Fancee’s. I grabbed armfuls of boxes. “I’ll run these sizes before I head out.”
The white noise of the warehouse mellowed out the farther I went into the stacks. Bulbs buzzed overhead, my footfall soft in the serene, light dust. Even the cardboard boxes were kind of comforting when I slid them into their proper places. I smiled at a job well done.
For a second, I could’ve sworn I felt the brush of someone’s gaze, but when I turned around, no one was there.
Weird.
I guessed someonecouldhave been peeping at me through the shelving grates, but there wasn’t much to see, at the moment. Just a lime-green tee.
After getting approval to leave from another manager, I made my way to the time clock. Our biometric-scanning station was at the edge of the warehouse by the hall. I placed my finger on the glass surface and input my code.
Zack’s voice boomed across the warehouse. “Hey.”
I turned, as did everyone else in a mile radius. Why was he always shouting?
Oblivious to the disruption, he pushed a dolly ahead of him, somewhere in the realm of trotting and powerwalking, probably to avoid getting in trouble for running. “Are you leaving for the day?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He flexed his fingers around the dolly and glanced at the clock. “Thought maybe we could talk again on my lunch break.”
Well, I sure as hell wasn’t waiting around in the break room after my shift. “You have my number.”
“Yeah.” A flush crawled up his neck. He tugged his ear and glanced at a gaggle of warehouse guys gawking at us with varying levels of interest.
I patted his arm. “Get back to work. You shouldn’t be getting half-naked and chatting up other departments on your first day.”
“Oh, please. I’m not hitting on my sister’s friend, and even if I was, I doubt I’d get punished for it based on what the other guys said they’ve done back here.”
I shuddered then laughed. “I expect some stories later.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Don’t want to break the bro code,” he said sarcastically. The warehouse crew offered him fists bumps as he rolled the dolly toward them, obviously joking around. Butwhat were they laughing about? His loud voice, me and him, or day-to-day nonsense?
He smacked one guy on the arm, inciting more cackles. Only a former quarterback would have enough confidence to hit someone on his first day. Although, those guys often gave each other a hard time for fun, so maybe he fit right in.
Zack glanced at me with an awkward, sincere smile as he ambled off. Somehow, I got the impression that he was still being classy.
22
Cheeky
After most shifts, all I wanted to do was go home and put my feet up. But something about Zack’s offer had me spiraling with anxious energy. I mis-aligned the zipper on my jacket three times by the employee lockers.
Making videos with Zack was one thing. I could crop out his face or delete and archive as we went. Loose scenarios could be planned based on trends. I could even block Shelby from seeing anything so only anonymous people bought into our story. Playing happy family at dinner? That meant no editing. No filters. I doubted his parents would love my cool-girl-chic motif since my target audience was teens to thirty-somethings. Would he back out if they hated me?
With a big sigh, I dropped the ends of my jacket. I needed some retail therapy.
I walked my ass all the way out of the building so security could check my bag, then re-entered the mall as a guest. The shop displays mocked my very existence.
Valentine’s bullshit.
