This Charming Man

Fifteen

"Where the fuck have you been?" Ryan hissed at me. I'd only just walked into the laundry room, sweating and panting and stopped next to Ryan to wipe my forehead. I had to make the trip back to our room and the kitchen and utility room to take the ice box and the carpet back and had nearly tripped on the stairs on my way down to the laundry room. With the definite knowledge that Mr Wentz would kill me if he knew I was late, since I'd somehow managed to sneak through the reception without him noticing me, I was in no mood to deal with Ryan's shit.

"Market," I muttered between pants and brushed my hair out my face before picking up a pile of dry towels and placing on the right shelf.

"Do you know how much trouble you're going to get into when Mr Wentz finds out?" Ryan hissed and I froze and glared at him.

"I'm not going t get into trouble because he's not going to find out," I said firmly and pointed at him, "Because you're going to keep your trap shut."

Ryan huffed and went back to scrubbing a bed sheet rather roughly. I turned my back on him and we worked silently for the rest of our shift. When Ryan stood up and sighed, I realised our shift was over and placed the last of the sheets away.

"I wasn't going to tell him anyway," Ryan uttered, drying off his washboard. I walked over and picked up his tub and took it to the sink.

"I know," I said, emptying the contents of the tub down the drain.

Ryan frowned in confusion. "Then why did you say that to me?"

"Because I'm terrified of Mr Wentz, Ryan, and I would probably have heart failure if he found out I was late."

Ryan said nothing and looked down. I wiped off the tub and held it while I waited for Ryan to finish. He stood up and threw the rag at the sink. He eyed me for a moment before speaking.

"Where were you really?" he asked.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "I already told you, Ryan. I was at the market and I must've dozed off for longer than usual."

Ryan stared at me for a moment, his face emotionless, his eyes the only flicker of emotion; they were judging me, trying to suss me out. He gave up and looked away.

"Whatever. Let's go."