Page 4 of Sexting the Pakhan

“Borrowing profile,” he repeats.

“Yes.”

“I see.”

He glances at the cover once more, then back at me. “Then I’ll trust your judgment.”

That should not sound intimate.

It absolutely does.

“I can check it out for you whenever you’re ready,” I manage.

“Of course.”

He turns to leave, and I’m just starting to convince myself I might survive this interaction when he stops at the end of the aisle. He doesn’t turn back fully. Just enough that I can see his profile.

“Hypothetically, Miss Hart,” he says, “if someone were considering asking another person out, I doubt eye contact would be an obstacle.”

Then he walks away.

I stand there in the middle of the aisle holding absolutely nothing, staring after him like an idiot.

Miss Hart.It’s not intimate. It can’t be. My name is on my badge. He knows it because everyone here knows it. That’s all.

That is absolutely all.

“Okay,” a voice says behind me, “what the hell was that?”

I spin around so fast I almost lose my balance.

Karina is standing a few feet away with a stack of returns against her hip and an expression of such intense delight that I immediately want to deny everything before she even speaks.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I say.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Zoya. I just watched you flirt.”

“I did not flirt.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I recommended a book.”

“You recommended a book like you were one breath away from climbing that man.”

I choke on nothing. “Karina!”

“What? I’m being supportive.”

“You’re being insane.”

She falls into step beside me as I grab the cart and start pushing it toward the next aisle. My hands still don’t feel steady. My entire body still feels a little too awake.

Karina leans close. “He was flirting back.”

“He was not.”

“He knew your name.”