In these little moments, I try to appreciate what I have and find fun in the little things, even if it’s looking for something interesting on cable TV.
“Not interested in dudes wrestling. Fuck the news. Maybe this—” I thought I had found something interesting, but it’s just a boring cooking show. “Another boring cooking show. No, notthis. Skip, skip, skip. Eugh!” I sigh loudly because nothing is interesting on TV. To escape my frustration, I get up to clean some dishes in the kitchen.
I have always found it imperative for my mental health to clean. Cleaning helps to create some order in my mind.
Twenty minutes have passed, and I’m done. I return to my couch, hoping that something fascinating has introduced itself onto my TV.
Before I can even slump down, my phone is going off on my small kitchen table.
Fuck.
It’s M.
I grab my phone, and now I really slump down on my couch. My hands hover over the screen, debating whether I should take the call. I bring the nail of my thumb to my mouth and start nibbling on it, a habit I need to unlearn.
I bite the bullet and answer the call.
“Yes?” What am I even trying to ask him?
“Well, hello to you, too, Lana,” M says so casually through the phone.
“I mean, yes, hello. How are you?” I compose myself and try not to let his intoxicating voice sway me.
“Good, I’m preparing for a job.” What fucking job? “But I thought I should call you first.”
“Why?” I ask as I twirl a strand of my hair between my fingers.
“Little hummingbird, don’t act so innocent. You can say that you have missed me.” His confidence is unwavering.
“Oh, really? Well, I haven’t,” I tell him as confidently as I can. The unmistakable sound of his laughter rings through the phone.
“Duso moja, don’t lie to me. Do you feel embarrassed by what we did last time?” Even through the phone, his voice carriesthat infuriating mix of charm and confidence, like awkwardness couldn’t touch him if it tried.
And I cover my face with my left hand.
“Okay, I don’t. You? And why are you calling me? Haven’t you had your fill of me?” I ask him honestly.
“No, and little hummingbird?” I nod even though he can’t see me.
“I’m not even close to feeling satiated. I won’t find rest until I’m buried deep inside of you again.” Holy fucking shit. I remove my hand and steady my face in the palm of my hand while my elbow rests on my knee.
“To play your little game, when do you plan on doing that?” My question carries a certain undertone of playfulness. But I’m steady.
“When you least expect it. So, what are you doing this Friday?”
“Nothing. You?”
“Our date is set then. I’ll pick you up at 7 p.m.” His casualness and unwavering confidence make M a dangerous man. Not to mention that he demands presence and status, even through the phone.
“I haven’t even decided if I want to go.”
“Lana, be ready by seven. I’ll take you out somewhere nice.” I sigh, and I hope he takes that as my confirmation.
“I’m off, my project won’t wait for long. And, Lana?”
“Yes, M?”
“Don’t flip through the channels that quickly and stay on the cooking show next time, it just started to get interesting.” He hangs up immediately, and I can’t even begin to process what he just said.
