Page 58 of Sexting the Boss
Me: Uh-huh. Sure.
Unknown Number: I don’t. I just have strong opinions about men who take too long to make a move.
I smirk at my screen.
Me: Duly noted. But relax, I’m not marrying him. It’s just dinner.
Unknown Number: Mm-hmm.
Me: Are you pouting right now?
Unknown Number: I don’t pout.
I laugh, shaking my head.
Me: Right. Totally believe you.
He doesn’t text back immediately.
And for some strange, ridiculous reason—I wish he would.
The afternoon drags, mostly because I keep side-eyeing my phone, waiting for another text that never comes.
It’s fine. I’m fine.
It’s not like I’m hoping for a response.
It’s not like I’m waiting for him to say something, maybe tell me not to go, maybe?—
Okay. I need to get a grip.
I focus on my screen, staring at an Excel sheet that I’m pretending to care about, when movement in my peripheral catches my attention.
Ryan.
He’s clearing out his desk.
I frown, swiveling in my chair. “Hey. Uh…going somewhere?”
Ryan glances up, stuffing a stapler into a box. “Yeah. Transfer.”
I blink. “Transfer?”
“Yep.” He tapes up the box with an alarming amount of force.
I stare at him, processing.
Ryan has been here longer than I have. He knows everything about this department—to the point where it’s kind of annoying. And now he’s suddenly being moved?
“Why?” I ask.
Ryan sighs. “Company restructuring.”
Oh.
Ohno.
Company restructuring is corporate-speak for “layoffs are coming, but we’re going to shuffle a few people around first so it doesn’t look obvious.”
