π| FORTY EIGHT
***This woman, I need her to want me again and again...***
~Rachel~
It had been hours since Carmen had left for wherever she was.
And you were brewing inside, rage boiling in you like a volcano.
Your hands shook on your thighs were they lay as you stared at your phone lying on the table.
Six hours and nothing.
Not even a text.
Not even a poke.
How dare she?
You were beginning to wonder if you had been dumped or if she had just nailed and bailed.
"Arggghhh," you snap as you stand to your feet, kicking the table.
But that action, it did you more harm than good.
You regretted it the moment you little toe stubbed against the wood.
Something familiar shot up through the nerve in your legs—pain.
You opened your mouth to make an expression of pain.
But, nothing came out.
And you just stood there, gaping, fist clenched, staying still and hoping the pain would pass.
Your breathing gradually grew heavy, not from the stubbed toe.
It was anger, rising from your abdomen and filling your thorax.
It was all her fault.
Carmen.
You gently placed your foot on the floor when the pain subsided.
"Damn you," you mouth at the table as you snatched up your phone.
You swipe up at the inactive screen hoping for something.
Nothing.
Your phone wasn't on silent, or Do Not Disturb, or vibration.
Why was she ignoring you?
You would give a million to know why exactly she was doing this.
Anyways, you couldn't bear it any longer, or you would explode.
You found her darn number and sent her a text: Hi!
You waited.
One minute.
Then two, three... five minutes.
There was nothing, no reply.
You shut your eyes tightly, infuriated at her attitude.
Was this what women like her did after a wonderful night?
It seemed unlikely.
She had been so good when you met her, or had it been all an act?
Had she been acting all saintly just for a taste of that coochie?
You slumped back in the chair, phone in hand, typing.
You sent message after message, determined to spam her till insanity, or at least till she sent a reply.
It didn't work.
You weren't surprised.
What had you been expecting?
But, you were definitely disappointed.
You stood to your feet with a frown, heading for the kitchen.
A glass of whiskey would do you good before frustration stole you.
You yanked the door of the liquor cabinet open as if it had committed a henious crime and should be convicted.
You selected a bottle of whiskey, your favourite and brought it down.
You poured some into a glass you have previously rinsed out and lifted it to your lips, undiluted.
The taste was strong on your mouth and stronger at your throat.
But, you were used to it.
A picture of Carmen flashed through your mind.
And it contributed to your decision to down another shot.
You stopped after the third shot, knowing your own limits.
You didn't want to be a drunk mess if she happened on you now.
You pushed the glass away from you and reached for your phone.
Seven messages, no reply.
Not even one.
What a snob!
You were about to push the phone away, your intention to take another shot and gloat.
But, you froze.
A light bulb had gone off in your head, a potent idea forming.
The tight lines around your forehead instantly relaxed.
And, a smile lit your face.
"Yesss," you screamed as if it was to replace the word 'Eureka'.
You snatched up your phone and headed for the bedroom.
You would show her.
Carmen.