“Okay.” My voice is barely a whisper. I reach my hand out toward his boxers, my fingers shaking. I’ve never touched a penis before and I don’t know what to expect. What does it feel like? How tight do you hold it?

And then I hear the jingle of the little bell. I scream, which is probably the worst thing to do, and jump away from Dean, scrambling to the other side of the room. He rushes to find his pants, tripping as he pulls them back up and over his hips. He’s smoothing out his shirt and fixing his hair, and he nods to me. “Your hair, Keely.”

There’s no mirror back here, but I run and check my reflection in the microwave and I can sort of see that my hair is sticking up everywhere. I run my hands through it to smooth it down as Dean leaves the break room and walks back out into the store, like nothing ever happened.

“Sorry,” I hear him say. “We were dealing with something in the back.”

“Was anyone watching the register?” It’s a deep gravelly voice I recognize—Mr. Roth! I feel a swirling in my stomach like I might throw up. I brush my hair to the side with my fingers, hoping I look presentable—that my lips aren’t too puffy or my clothes too rumpled so Mr. Roth won’t know what we were up to. What if he had walked into the break room? What if I had actually reached out my hand all the way, put it into Dean’s boxers, and Mr. Roth had seen? The thought is horrible and humiliating. I can’t believe I was so reckless.

“I was just gone for a second,” Dean says. “Nobody came in the store.”

“Someone should always be up front by the register,” says Mr. Roth. “I’m tired of this.”

I take a deep breath and walk out of the break room into the main room of the store, rolling my shoulders back and trying to stand up tall.

“Hey, Mr. Roth,” I say, my voice breaking and giving me away. “I was just taking a bathroom break. What’s up?”

Mr. Roth launches into a speech about a shipment of new books we’ll be getting later in the week, but I can barely listen to him. All I can imagine over and over again is the look he’d have on his face if he had walked in on us. Dean and I have to stop messing around in the store.

When Mr. Roth finally leaves, after what feels like an eternity, Dean pulls me close to his side, whispering into my ear.

“Come over after work tonight.” I can feel his lips against my skin. “I don’t want to be interrupted.”