“That’s not what this is,” I reminded him. “Are you straights okay? You have a screw loose or a wire crossed somewhere in your brain if you think that’s what’s going on here.”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed. “And the way you can’t stop staring at his ass ever since your littleGhostmoment at the coffee machine is just coincidence, is it?”
“What the hell is a ghost moment?”
“The pottery scene from the movieGhost,” Tyler said. “Duh.”
“That’s not how that happened!”
Tyler cackled and headed out to take over from Chase. A few moments later, Chase slunk back into the kitchen. He kept his lunch and drinks on a shelf in the walk-in, so when hevanished into there, I didn’t take much notice. It was only after I’d unloaded the rest of the trays from the oven that I realized he hadn’t come out again yet. I glanced over at the door—it had swung closed.
A dull thump sounded from the other side of the door. Then another one, and then a sudden flurry of them, all barely audible.
I hurried over and wrenched the door open, and Chase barreled into my chest. I caught him before he sent us both stumbling. His eyes were wide and his shoulders were heaving as he sucked in a series of rapid breaths. It was instinct to wrap my arms around him. I tried not to be aware of how he was pressed against me, his fingers gripping my shirt, and of how narrow the space between us was. I could see flecks of gold in Chase’s brown eyes and feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. He was close enough that if I’d wanted to kiss him, all I’d have had to do was tilt my head forward.
My gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth just in time to see it twist.
“Did you lock me in there?” he demanded, his fists clenching against my chest.
“What? No!” I stepped back, suddenly remembering where I was, and released him. “The door swings shut sometimes. And Ican’tlock you in there. Nobody can. There’s a handle inside you can open the door with.”
His jaw trembled, and I didn’t think he’d been inside the walk-in for long enough that it had anything to do with the temperature. He was wigged out.
“I can show you,” I said. I probably should have shown him before now, since I was the boss and all. I ducked around the door into the walk-in, and Chase followed warily. “Look, you just turn this handle here and that opens it up. And the big arrowsticker glows in the dark if the lights go out. It’s, uh, it’s safe. You don’t have to be scared.”
It was the wrong thing to say because he sneered. “I wasn’tscared!”
“Okay,” I agreed, even though we both knew he was lying. “You want to try it?”
“So now you’re gonna lock me in for real?” he demanded.
“No!” I showed him my palms. “Look, pull the door closed. I’ll stay in here too. And if we can’t get out—which wecan—then Tyler will come looking for us as soon as your break’s over anyway.”
Chase gave me a narrow look, but he pulled the door shut, closing us in the small space.
I’d always liked hanging out in walk-ins. That was weird probably. Maybe I’d just worked in a bunch of horrible places, and the walk-in was one of the few places you got to hide away both from demanding customers and shitty bosses.
“Okay,” I said, leaning up against a shelf stacked with flour bags. “Now turn the handle and push, and the door will open.”
Chase grasped the handle and turned it just a little too fast for it to be casual. The door opened, and I didn’t imagine the way his shoulders sagged as the tension left them. He let go of the handle.
“I told you. It’s a safety thing,” I said. “Some moron in the past probably thought it was funny to lock someone in and it ended in disaster, so now all walk-ins have a release handle inside.”
Chase grabbed a brown paper bag from the shelf and said, “My break’s not over yet.”
You’re welcome, asshole.
“What’d you bring?” I asked, and he looked at me like I was suddenly speaking a foreign language. I nodded at his bag. “For lunch.”
“Peanut butter sandwich.”
“Grab a spinach and feta roll too,” I said. “Tyler made them, not me, so it’s not like I’m trying to poison you or anything.”
“I don’t like spinach.”
“Okay then,” I said, fed up with how I could never do anything right with him. “What-the-fuck-ever, Chase. Enjoy your peanut butter sandwich, I guess, or grab something else, or don’t. I don’t give a fuck. I was trying to be nice, but forget it. And next time you freak out because you get stuck somewhere, I won’t bother?—”
“I wasn’t scared, you fuck!”
