20 minutes.
Hey, he's late. But it's okay. I didn't call him, didn't want to seem so eager. Maybe he just got tied up in his work.
35 minutes.
I'm not naturally a patient person. I kept checking my phone for missed calls, although I'm sure I would've noticed his call because I was holding my phone the whole fucking time. I irritably kicked off my shoes and lied down on the sofa. I placed my phone, face down, beside me. Maybe we shouldn't go out tonight. I am becoming pissed with every minute.
55 minutes.
Okay, that's it. I texted him, "Where are you?". I refused to remove my gaze from it, willing him to answer. 5 mins.. 10.. 15... Oh, fuck it! I hate waiting. Scratch that, I loathe it. No way I'm calling him.My pride is one of my greatest weakness. I left my phone on the sofa and with my temper brewing closer to the edge, I stomped towards my room. I removed my dress, my earrings, my watch. I didn't even bother with my make-up. I plopped down on my bed and pulled the blanket over my body with short, jerky movements and willed myself to just sleep.
-----------
First thing I did when I woke up was check my phone. Still no word from him. Maybe I should start worrying, something bad may have happened to him. I bit my lip and started to look up his name in my contacts. Before I could call, someone knocked on my door.It could be him. All irritation from the night before rapidly fading, I started towards the door and opened it. It wasn't him. It was a mutual friend of ours.
"Hey," I said, gesturing him in. "What's up?"
"Nothing, I was just around the neighborhood and thought of visiting you."
"You're up early. That's weird. Or," I smiled slyly, "you were up the whole night. Got a date?"
"Haha. You got me."
I turned around, with the purpose of going to the kitchen to make him some coffee, when his next words stopped me in my tracks.
"I saw James last night at the restaurant. He was with Hannah. They were so sweet.I think it's good they're back together."
I think there was a loud buzzing in my ears. I think the world tilted violently under my feet. I don't know. I couldn't remember. I don't even remember sitting down on one of the dining chairs. But I remember looking down at my hands, surprised that they were balled tight into fists, my knuckles turning white.
WHY? Why this reaction? That shouldn't have bothered me. It shouldn't have made me feel like a lance was piercing through my chest. We were nothing. We were just two, consenting adults who wanted to have fun. I admit I was surprised when we started, I never even imagined we'll be together. I don't even like him. He was just not my type. And I sincerely doubt if he likes me, too. But when it, whatever it was, began, we just couldn't stop. I knew he was patching things up with his estranged wife. And back then, I just didn't care. Because I was so sure I wouldn't feel anything for him. The thought of being with him seriously didn't even enter my mind. So what's happening now? I am not a novice in this game. But I am a stranger to the whatever I am feeling now. Could it be that I want more? No! My mind instantly rejected the idea. Of course not. But am I saying no, because I really don't want more? Or because that I know I shouldn't want more? Even if I do, I don't want to compete with her. I don't have the heart to do that. I know they should be together. But what about me? I shouldn't even think of that, as I am certain he hasn't thought of us that way. The only love we had was made in the bedroom. It was just all fun and games. No. I couldn't. I wouldn't. I shouldn't.
"Hey. Hey. Are you alright? You're so pale!"
I gazed blindly at my friend, fixing an overbright smile on face. "Yes, I'm alright. I'm perfectly alright."
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