Devil-grethan-

three

Ethan Dolan

He walked into my doors so boldly, with such confidence he made his presence known which no one had ever been brave enough to do. "I need to set up your new board. I bought it yesterday to help you keep your day on schedule, where would you like it?" He asks me, the wide white board in his arms while he grasps on to a package of expo markers.

"Wherever is fine" I wave him off, focusing my eyes on my agenda, reviewing the plans for today as Grayson gets to work. A spill of taps hit the ground, disrupting my thoughts, infuriating me slightly. "Shit" he hisses, I look up to see the markers all over the floor, Grayson bent down to snatch them up.

My eyes couldn't leave his perfect ass, it was so round and plump-so feminine. I got up with a sigh and made my way over to him, buttoning my blazer as I bent down to help him. His eyes meet mine for half a second as he smiles thankfully, I slip the different colors back into the box, holding it up for him to do the same.

We look around for any more markers, not seeing any missing. He takes the box from my hands, "thank you" he mutters and I nod, heading back over to my desk as he stares down at a notebook, transferring what's written into a neat chart he made up.

I watched him write, I watched how his tongue flicked out and licked his lips frequently, probably out of concentration. He sniffled a lot but he wasn't sick, it seemed to be a habit, his knees bent just the slightest as if he played some type of sport. The way he clutched onto the marker and his eyes traced over his words repeatedly concerned me. As if he was hesitant about something, "spell conference for me" Grayson demands making my brows raise,

Instead of fighting I decide to answer him and let it slide, "c-o-n-f-e-r-e-n-c-e" I spell out and he nods, tsking as he erases a mistaken 'S'. "I'm not dumb or anything I just um- I'm dyslexic" he murmurs as if he was ashamed making my brows furrow, "that wasn't on your resume" I say in a scolding tone and he shrugs.

"If a learning disability costs me a job then no, I didn't put it on my resume" he says, not looking at me once as he continues writing. That confidence, it sparked so much of my attention, he already knew more about me then a lot of people and he was only working here for two days.

"There" he sighs, setting down the notebook and markers, his eyes scanning the color coded board that set up my week. Meetings were in red, the times were in blue, my breaks were in green while my conferences were in purple, and my interviews in yellow. He was very organized which I appreciated because I had enough messes in my life.

The door slams open with no knocks making me scowl, "Michael" I utter and he laughs deeply, "come on, big bro. Don't be such a tough guy" he jokes, giving Grayson a friendly smile in which he returned a wave. Don't you even think about it, bastard. "I was thinking we could for some lunch" Michael suggests, sitting on the edge of my desk, looking around as if he'd never been in here before.

"We?" I ask, wanting him to clarify who would be going. "Well, we, as in me, you, and Grayson" he pipes up making me roll my eyes. "Grayson has work to do" I decline making him scoff, "he's not your bitch. Grayson has a lunch break, let him go" Michael orders me, walking out of the office, I squint my eyes after him, wishing the worst on his day.

"What's wrong with you?" Grayson asks, attitude laced in his time, pissing me off by the word. "Get out" I mutter and he scoffs, "excuse me?" He asks, his hand on his curvy hip.

"I said, get out!" I yell, startling him, I was fed up today, Grayson grabbed his things and headed for the door. "I think you meant to say, 'I need a second, would you please leave?', I don't take disrespect, Mr. Dolan" Grayson turns his head over his shoulder, looking at me with steel in his eyes. He continues out of my door, shutting it softly behind him which made me gulp, guilt consuming my belly.