Page 101 of Ewan

I do just that, and minutes later, I exit the restroom.

My phone rings, and I reach for it in my backpack. I take it out and notice Sammy’s name.

Shit.

I should answer her call since this may have to do with my new gigs, so I tap accept.

“Hi,” I say in a joyful voice, quiet so I don’t attract any eyes to me, although no one is near me.

“Hi. Can you talk?”

The noise in the background suggests she’s outside.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” I say, pacing to the end of the corridor.

Looking down, I listen.

“I just spoke to the manager at that place. Not the owner. He says he wants you to come in a little earlier. Frankly, I think he wants to make sure you’re fit for the job. I told him that you are. But, you know men. He’s a little creepy, too, so watch out. Don’t talk to him unless there are other people around. I don’t know the guy well. It’s just what I’ve heard. He’s a little shady.”

My heart warms.

“Thank you so much for looking out for me.”

“No problem. Anytime. Just make sure you’re there on––”

“Agh,” I blurt, cutting her off.

She doesn’t have the chance to finish her sentence as I run full-on into the hard chest of a man, narrowly avoiding stepping on his shoes.

I flick my gaze up and our eyes lock immediately. The blood drains from my face.

This is insane.

“Scarlett??”

His voice couldn’t be more drenched in surprise. And his eyes couldn’t be darker with suspicion.

My mouth opens, but the words pull away from me as I’m afraid of being misjudged by the man in front of me.

“Scarlett?” Sammy’s voice rings in my ear. “Are you still there?” she insists.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” I say slowly, watching Ewan’s eyes going from dark to blinding gray.

It’s like he’s drowning in disappointment, no chance to ever recover from it.

“Can I call you back?” I say, cold as ice.

I end the call and let my phone fall into my pocket, not tearing my eyes away from him. My decision has been made, as this is a do-or-die moment.

There’s only one way to handle this, and I can’t waver.

“Who was that?” he asks, an eyebrow lifted.

“A friend,” I toss at him. “We were talking about work,” I offer, sounding guilty… of lying.

His eyes hover over my face.

“What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to go home half an hour ago?”

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