Page 23 of I Saw You First

“Did you sleep with him?”

I balk. “Of course not! He left early because Sam’s baby was sick. Not that I would have!” I probably would have.

“Oh, too bad.”

I take another drink, debating whether I should continue. Again, what the hell. Hopefully this doesn’t get back to Wil.

“He seems pretty magnificent.” I pause. “I mean, if there wasn’t that whole ‘fraternization’ policy.” I use finger quotes. “And the fact that he’s my boss.”

“What fraternization policy?” Cesar asks.

“Something about not hanging out with or dating your coworkers?”

“Pfft. Hanging out? Like we’re doing right now? That policy is a myth, sister. I don’t remember anything in the handbook about it. I’d be the first person to quit if I couldn’t go out for a marg with my work fam. How else are we supposed to get through the day?”

“You’ve read the handbook?”

He purses his lips and looks up in thought. “Actually, no. Is there one? The only thing I’ve ever heard is that they don’t want keyholders to date other keyholders, you know? Like if you both had access to the cashola. Also, girl, you do not want to date Wil, even if he is so, so hot. The shine will wear off soon, precious. His default setting is grumpy, too grumpy for your sweet self, although I can’t say I blame him. And I’d say he gets by on his looks alone, but we all know that’s not true.”

I have no idea what Cesar means, but I’m feeling too buzzed to care. I’ll switch to water after this one. “What about you? Any magnificent others?”

“Oh, sweetcheeks,” he says, “where do I even begin?”

I lean forward to give Cesar my undivided attention and try not to think about Wil.

The next morning as I wait with a handful of teammates for Wil to unlock the front doors, I think about that conversation and wonder what Cesar meant about Wil not getting by on looks alone. What? He’s smart? He’s got a natural talent for merchandising? Both of those things seem true.

I follow him into the store, finish the banana I bought at the gas station on my way in, and toss the peel into a trash can. “Good morning, Wil,” I say in my cheeriest voice.

He grunts and walks toward the Dugout without a word.

“Have a good day!” I call after him.

Cesar is right. Wil’s default setting, at least at the store, is grump, and I can’t help but wonder which is the real Wil—grumpy work Wil or flirty Golden Wil.

Aurora sends me back to the peaceful media corner of the warehouse to sort the cycle that arrived on last night’s truck. Courtney, one of the full-timers, huffs. “Why does she get to sort cycle? I never get to sort cycle anymore!”

Aurora rolls her eyes. “Maybe it’s because it takes you three times as long. You can set the new VHS endcaps.”

Courtney stomps off to the movies section.

The change of pace at Hometown Electronics—and the different way I use my brain—has been exactly what I needed. I’ve adapted to the early mornings, and I love those four quiet hours before the store opens. I don’t even have to think about what to wear every day: khakis, a fitted T-shirt, and my Hometown baseball jersey, which is softer and more comfortable than it looks.

Sorting cycle is my favorite task, and usually, no one bothers me. I crack an ice-cold Diet Coke and dig into the first tote. I find my rhythm. I sort and stack, sort and stack, occasionally finding a gem that I tuck away in a special pile: CDs to buy once my employee discount kicks in. Today, I’ve set aside two so far. Soundgarden Down on the Upside and The Wallflowers Bringing Down the Horse. The instant access to CDs mostly makes up for the fact that Bri and I haven’t gone out to see a show since I started.

Once I’m finished sorting, I’ll load everything up on carts and stock the sales floor. I turn up the radio and shimmy to “Radiation Vibe” by Fountains of Wayne while I move from the totes to the table, from the table to the totes and back again. I pause to look at the track listing for the soundtrack to That Thing You Do!, which released yesterday, even though the movie doesn’t come out for another couple of weeks.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see this movie!” I say to myself, then stack the CD in my to-buy pile.

“Rhodes!” someone behind me barks, and I jump.

“Judas Priest!” I cry. So much for no one bothering me.

I turn to find Wil at the end of one of the sorting tables, gripping his ever-present clipboard. His hair’s neat today, but he hasn’t shaved, and there’s a little bit of scruff that makes me want to run my lips and teeth and tongue across his jaw to see what it would feel like.

Nope. Do not think about that… or the sensation of that scruff against your…

What is wrong with me? Stop!