It was another slow afternoon at the store, the kind where time seemed to crawl, and every minute felt like an hour. The overhead speakers played some overplayed pop song for the third time today, and the only customers in sight were a couple lazily browsing the clearance rack. I leaned against the counter, scrolling through my phone, waiting for anything remotely interesting to happen.

Then, like clockwork, Toby strolled over, draping himself over the counter with his usual lazy confidence. His signature cologne—something musky and expensive—lingered in the air as he flashed me a toothy grin.

"You look like you're dying of boredom," he teased, resting his chin in his palm.

I sighed, locking my phone. "Because I am. You?"

He shrugged, adjusting his name tag that was barely clipped onto his slightly wrinkled uniform. "Eh, kinda. But my side hustle keeps me entertained."

I gave him a wary look. "Do I even wanna know?"

Toby’s grin widened, mischief dancing in his golden eyes. "Depends. Ever wonder what I do outside this hellhole?"

I groaned, already regretting the conversation. "Toby, I know what you do. Half the employees here follow your account."

He laughed, a deep, amused sound that turned a few heads from the shoe section. "Oh yeah? And you?" He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.

I rolled my eyes. "I like my sanity, thanks."

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "Wow. So, what you're saying is you don’t appreciate art?"

I snorted. "Call it what you want, but I’m not paying to see my coworker naked."

Toby leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "You wound me, truly. You could at least leave a like."

I shoved him away with a laugh. "Get back to work, Winchester."

He winked before sauntering off to the stockroom, tail flicking behind him. "Your loss, babe."