Page 45 of Show Me

He doesn't answer immediately. He studies the screen for a second, like he's deciding what needs fixing today. “By expiration date.”

“We've always kept them alphabetically.”

“We're not doing that anymore.”

What in the fuck is up with this guy? “That would take a while to reorganize everything.”

I’m careful not to say the words in a whiny tone, but it proves harder than I imagined. It’s been a few days since he made a random change that caused me more work than it produced in efficiency.

“Then you should get started.” He straightens as if he’s proud of himself.

My fingers curl against the desk. “Okay.” Arguing doesn’t go anywhere. I’ve tried that already.

“And Ruby?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Check with me before you change anything moving forward.” The words are said casually, like a warning. Like I’ve done something wrong.

“I didn’t change anything.”

His mouth curves. Not quite a smile. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.” He walks away.

I stare at the screen longer than necessary. Same page. Right.

Across the gym, Brent is watching—the bell jingles. Someone laughs. Life continues. My phone vibrates against the desk.

Xavier: Everything quiet today?

I stare at the message longer than I should. He didn’t have to check in. He did anyway.

Me: The creep is here.

Two seconds later, I type.

Me: He’s leering from the rowing machine.

Three dots appear.

Xavier: Be careful.

The second the message is received, more dots appear.

Xavier: Don’t walk out alone.

Warmth and irritation twist together in my chest.

Me: I can handle it.

The response bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again.

Xavier: I know.

I set the phone down, the screen dimming before I can read anything else into that word.

“I don’t pay you to text.” Greg’s voice cuts through the air behind me.

I flinch. Not from fear, from surprise. I didn’t hear him approach.

“I was checking the schedule.” I turn away from him. The guy is an ass. I was on my phone for less than two minutes.

His eyes flick to my phone, then back to my face. “Looked like messaging.”