Kean was the quintessential, white lumberjack guy who would better fit somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. That beard was as dense as a forest and would make for a great —
Nope. No, no, no. Not thinking of my essential boss like that. I’m a mature, responsible adult and I will pack up those inappropriate thoughts and throw them in a furnace.
“Hi, Mr. Kean. There’re just a couple of questions I had for you before I get started on your list.”
“You have my number,” Kean said.
I bit my lip to keep from saying the first thing that came to mind, but apparently Brooker had the same thought and wasn’t afraid to vocalize it.
“Who put a stick up your ass this morning, Kean?”
Kean leveled Brooker with a dark look that I couldn’t decipher, but it had some macho man, bitch energy to it that Brooker laughed off.
“I see,” he said, moving over to nudge Alvarez. “Looks like Kean’s forgotten how to talk to women. Should we show him how it’s done?”
Before the two could get through the first syllable of their laugh, Kean slammed a hand on the physicians’ door, knocking it back so hard that it thunked against the other side. Alvarez and Fuller stiffened, looking at Kean with wide eyes, suddenly very intimidated by their senior.
Brooker, on the other hand, was unfazed. He merely raised an eyebrow at his teammate and crossed his arms.
“Dustin is waiting for y’all,” Kean grumbled, stepping away from the door so Alvarez and Fuller could skitter by.
“Uh-huh.” Brooker clicked his tongue at Kean, but walked past him and into the physicians' office, letting the door thunk shut behind him.
Kean huffed, then turned to me. His jaw worked again as he looked me over, eyes narrowing in what I assumed was disapproval. I’d ditched the professional attire I’d worn yesterday after Hansen explained that most everybody in the office wore athleisure wear. So in place of my suit jacket, I was in a full coverage sports bra and leggings. I’d passed a handful of women wearing similar outfits, some with even more cleavage showing. I’d been confident I was dressed appropriately for work here.
Kean’s look smashed that confidence.
“Is my outfit bothering you?” I asked through gritted teeth, trying not to let him get to me.
“Yes.”
I pulled back, shoulders tense, and looked up at him. He was a solid few inches taller than me, a whole foot if his binder was to be believed. But it felt like more in this moment.
“Okay,” I said quietly, crossing my arms to cover myself and dropping my eyes to the floor. “I’ll change between errands then.”
“Wha?” Kean stumbled and when I looked back at him, his face had dropped.
“What?” I parroted back.
“I didn’t mean —” Kean straightened, stepping away from me so he could lean against the wall, and shook his head. “What was it you wanted to ask?”
I knew exactly what I wanted to ask. I even had a checklist of everything I wanted to go through, specifically about what could get him to engage with the online soccer community.
But now I felt uncertain, too shaky to ask for anything beyond what was necessary.
So I chickened out.
“I wanted to know your favorite color. Or I guess your favorite color to wear. For the clothes part of your list.”
Kean was quiet for a long while and I spent every one of those seconds with my eyes on the ground, just feeling like shit. Maybe this job was a mistake. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for social media management for a soccer team, for a group of men with a variety of personalities. I’m sure every team had their own grumpy asshole, it was hardly a unique personality trait. And if I couldn’t —
“The same color as your top,” Kean said quietly. My eyes snapped up to him, but he’d already turned away, pushing back through the physicians’ door. As it shut behind him, I looked down at my sports bra to confirm the color.
According to the shop, it was digital lavender, a soft, pastel purple. Certainly not the kind of color I thought a guy like Kean would like.
But given how shitty that interaction was, I wasn’t going to question his color choice. Just buy clothes as requested and make sure to get receipts with information on how to return everything.
A Talking To
