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.”

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