Bound

Chapter 5: Her

Emily

"Make sure you greet every customer. And go clean the restrooms. But don't let them see you away from the register. Make sure you're checking every high bill, and for gods' sake, wipe down the counter!" Bill urges me frantically before rushing back to his office where the auditors are checking his records. They'll no doubt be breathing down my neck eventually too.

The entire week passed with anxious anticipation of the auditors' arrival, then Friday came. The auditors made an appearance at eleven o'clock, a solid hour after I clocked in for my shift. It didn't take long after that to turn a simple customer service job into life or death. At least that's how everyone was acting. I quickly grew tired of the sweaty atmosphere, especially after staring at the clock for a break to come that seemed like it never would.
The clock strikes six.
My stomach rumbles painfully. Eight hours without a break. I wonder what the auditors would say about that, I think, growing increasingly hungry and annoyed.
I sigh audibly and glance around the deserted store. Three hours 'till closing and I'm supposed to be leaving-like now.
Assuming that wouldn't happen any time soon, I take another look around the store in search of customers or auditors before sneaking away to the supply room.
Once I reach the room, I separate four blue gloves from a pile that is haphazardly thrown together in a big box on the floor. Then, I grab a bucket and toss a toilet brush, toilet cleaner, mirror cleaner, and paper towels into it before sneaking back through to the restrooms.
The women's restroom isn't too bad, as usual. I quickly spray down the mirror and wipe it spotless before peeking my head out to check for customers. I don't hear or see anyone, so I continue. I wipe stations down as I do repetitively multiple times a day. Sink-shit, the hand soap needs refilled, hand-dryer, stall, ew-toilet, I even wipe down the trashcan while I'm at it.

My hair falls in front of my face-some of it sticking to my sweat. This is why I normally put my hair up, I remember. I cautiously use the back of my wrist to push it away.

"Emily!" Bills' voice echoes in an angry whisper. "Where'd you go?" Seeing as he is right outside the restroom, I'm sure he already knows the answer.

"I'm cleaning the restroom-like you asked," my voice echoes back.

"Hurry." I hear thick footsteps hastening away.

Hurrying, I flick my dirty gloves off and exchange them for a clean pair I have stuffed in my back pocket.

I rush into the men's restroom to finish the dirty job. Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I feel it bump into someone then stop.

I should have knocked.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here," I apologize before realizing who is on the other side of the door.

"That's okay, you're just doing your job," Blake says, noticing the gloves and bucket I'm sporting. "I'll let you finish."

"Alright," I laugh slightly, a little embarrassed. "Can you keep an eye out for me while you wait and make sure no one else comes in?" I ask, batting my lashes at him as to say, 'pretty please?'

He obliges, "Absolutely."

The men's restroom is strong in scent, its' mirror is stained with more water spots than the women's, the sink is dirtier, and its' floor has other types of spots that I'll have to mop up later. Nonetheless, I scrub it clean and leave it with a more pleasant, disinfected scent.

"Two minutes: twenty-seven seconds," Blake says as I exit the restroom.

"Huh?" I breathe and look up at him.

He's just feet away, allowing me the perfect view of his entire body. I can tell he's the perfect height for me.

His back is leaning against the wall and he has one arm crossed over his chest and the other raised up with a watch on it that he's apparently been looking at. I realize I've just looked him up and down once my gaze reaches his feet-which are crossed-for the second time.

He seems to ignore my wandering eyes and answers, "That's how long it took you to clean the bathroom."

"Ah," I verbalize with a small nod. "Well, Bill did tell me to hurry."

"Bill," he repeats. "Well, Bill sounds like an ass."

"What are bosses for?" I laugh. Blake furrows his eyebrows at my mostly true joke. Does he not agree?

"I noticed you haven't called me." He changes the subject and follows me back to the front of the store.

That was direct.

"Yeah, I must have misplaced your number." I lie to play it off cool.

"Ah," he verbalizes like I did moments ago, letting me know he doesn't believe me. "Well, maybe I should put it in your phone, so you won't lose it again."

So, he wants me to call him so bad that he came here to ask me why I haven't called? I almost kick myself in the ass for making him work so hard. At least now I know he may be worth my time. I admire his persistence.

"Maybe I should put my number in your phone so you can call me when you need me," I counter, sounding far more sexual than I intend to. "You know, for when you need me for help with the barn project thing," I add quickly, almost stumbling over the words.

"Mhm," he verbalizes slowly, and I can see his dark eyes light up a little. The satisfied look on his face reassures me that I haven't lost his interest.

"Why don't we settle this now and just say I'll pick you up the next time you're free?" He offers through his grin.

Smooth

"I'm free this weekend, you choose the day." I go along with it. My hand finds the back of my elbow.

His handsome smile is plastered on when he asks, "I'll pick you up tomorrow?" and he hands me his phone to put my number in.

I grab it, the satisfaction showing on my face now. "Message me later, I'll send you the address." I smile and reach his phone back to him. His hand brushes mine as he takes it.

Again, smooth.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Emi." He establishes my nickname.

"See you, Paintbrush," I say, granting myself one last smile from him before he leaves the store.

The new confident feeling bubbling inside me does not go unnoticed.