Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

21. Checking In

21

Checking In

I blinked, lettuce slipping farther off my fork as each second ticked by. Was Zack kidding?

He rubbed his ear on his shoulder. “It wouldn’t have to be a big thing. If I did your social media stuff, that might ‘prove’ we were dating.”

I pulled my feet from the chair and sat up straight. “I thought you said that was ‘stupid’ and ‘unnecessary.’”

He rolled his eyes. “It's weird, to me. But Shelby would see it, and she’d back me.”

“Why go to all this trouble for your family instead of saying you don’t want to make babies?”

He ripped off a hunk of crust. “I do want to have kids, eventually. I’m just sick of them pushing me.”

Since when did he get intimidated by anybody? He was strong, blunt, and confident. Plus, he had a great laugh and massive biceps. Obviously, he’d find somebody to share his life with.

“Set some boundaries. If they keep pressing, leave.” I shrugged. “You don’t have to be around people who disrespect you.”

“They’re my family,” he said with a harsher edge.

I inhaled sharply and frowned. Blood relation didn’t mean they had anybody’s best interests at heart. Maybe his lack of boundaries with them was why he shuffled around Fancee’s with Shelby while she went to visit her boyfriend and get shoes. Not that it was my business how he dealt with…well, anything. I perched my chin on my hand. “So, I’d be a placeholder until your perfect baby mama rolls up?”

“No.” He gave me a funny look. “Not indefinitely. I was thinking maybe a few months. Three, tops. How long were you planning on making content with me?”

“I don’t know.” I had to be cool, so I shrugged. “A similar time frame.”

“Well, great. You get content, I get relief.” He packed his remaining lunch into the paper bag. “You’d also have to attend a few family parties, but we'd feed you and everything.”

Oh no. What did that mean?

“I have a diet.” I clung to his forearm as he started to walk away. “Wait, where are you going?”

“This isn’t my lunch break; I only had a ten.” He gestured to the door. “We can talk more about our proposition later.”

“Our proposition?” I balked.

He made it sound like an indecent proposal.

“Yeah. You in?” he asked.

So casual. Like I hadn’t fantasized about him inviting me into his car during our open lunch period in high school. For food. Company. Not backseat…whatever.

“I’ll think about it,” I said. I didn’t know why I was pushing back. He was offering me everything I wanted, but there had to be a catch.

He strode off to toss his lunch into one of the many fridges, then slipped through the doors to get to work.

I put my ear bud in and replayed his song choice. Would I really have fun making content with someone who hated social media? Plus, I’d already escaped from my obnoxious family, so playing nice with another wasn’t exactly a bargain. But he was game for an experiment. For some reason, we had some kind of ‘it’ factor together. Could I trust the quarterback with my brand?

Wait, I realized, glancing after him. He wasn’t the quarterback anymore and hadn’t been for years. But what was I supposed to reframe him as? My future fake boyfriend? The Big Box Man? Zack?

Whatever. We could work on that later. I finished my lunch and got back to my shift.

I wasn’t going to spend my whole day checking my phone for texts from him. He wasn’t the type to flood my inbox like Theo when he wanted something. But I did have clients. So, whenever it was slow, I ducked into the back and sifted through my blinking notifications. Most of my messages were mindless ramblings requiring minimal effort. Something like ‘awww bb 3’ was enough to keep the conversation flowing for a bit.

Anon73: what are you up to?

Me: working :’(

Anon73: If you were mine, I would take care of you so you’d never have to work again

I rolled my eyes. Just because I sold feet pics didn’t mean I wanted to be anybody’s sugar baby. This client probably thought he was being sweet. Offering me a dream: his dream, at least. So many of my clients wanted a trophy wife, two kids, and a man cave. Probably like Zack, the ‘family man.’ At least he didn’t want Zeezy’s. Although I still had no idea why he’d want to pose me as his wholesome girlfriend. My social media was Cool Girl Chic. Not future wifey. Although if I ever wanted to change my brand to a fun, approachable lady, the kind who seemed to go viral lately…

Cassandra peeked around the corner. “Who ya messaging?”

“Nobody.” I scoffed, sending a heart emoji to Anon73.

She strolled to the shoe-sorting station with the most recent discards. “You’ve been checking your phone a lot today.”

“I’m expecting to hear back on a job thing. It’s for modeling.” No need to send her into a frenzy about dating.

“Ooh, that’s exciting.” Her tone carried the same vague enthusiasm she had for Miss Preggo getting new shoes. “I hope you get it, Ni-ni.”

I shrugged. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t like my modeling or social media game would change anything for her. Or Zack.

In the warehouse, someone pushed a dolly, the wheels whirring under whatever boxes they carried. I peeked through the stacks and caught the flash of a brown uniform.

Cassandra huddled next to me. “What are we looking at?” she stage-whispered.

I flinched and stuffed my phone into my back pocket. “Nothing. I thought I heard a manager coming.” Thankfully, we had more than Andre around to run things at Fancee’s. I grabbed armfuls of boxes. “I’ll run these sizes before I head out.”

The white noise of the warehouse mellowed out the farther I went into the stacks. Bulbs buzzed overhead, my footfall soft in the serene, light dust. Even the cardboard boxes were kind of comforting when I slid them into their proper places. I smiled at a job well done.

For a second, I could’ve sworn I felt the brush of someone’s gaze, but when I turned around, no one was there.

Weird.

I guessed someone could have been peeping at me through the shelving grates, but there wasn’t much to see, at the moment. Just a lime-green tee.

After getting approval to leave from another manager, I made my way to the time clock. Our biometric-scanning station was at the edge of the warehouse by the hall. I placed my finger on the glass surface and input my code.

Zack’s voice boomed across the warehouse. “Hey.”

I turned, as did everyone else in a mile radius. Why was he always shouting?

Oblivious to the disruption, he pushed a dolly ahead of him, somewhere in the realm of trotting and powerwalking, probably to avoid getting in trouble for running. “Are you leaving for the day?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He flexed his fingers around the dolly and glanced at the clock. “Thought maybe we could talk again on my lunch break.”

Well, I sure as hell wasn’t waiting around in the break room after my shift. “You have my number.”

“Yeah.” A flush crawled up his neck. He tugged his ear and glanced at a gaggle of warehouse guys gawking at us with varying levels of interest.

I patted his arm. “Get back to work. You shouldn’t be getting half-naked and chatting up other departments on your first day.”

“Oh, please. I’m not hitting on my sister’s friend, and even if I was, I doubt I’d get punished for it based on what the other guys said they’ve done back here.”

I shuddered then laughed. “I expect some stories later.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Don’t want to break the bro code,” he said sarcastically. The warehouse crew offered him fists bumps as he rolled the dolly toward them, obviously joking around. But what were they laughing about? His loud voice, me and him, or day-to-day nonsense?

He smacked one guy on the arm, inciting more cackles. Only a former quarterback would have enough confidence to hit someone on his first day. Although, those guys often gave each other a hard time for fun, so maybe he fit right in.

Zack glanced at me with an awkward, sincere smile as he ambled off. Somehow, I got the impression that he was still being classy.