Reaching the container I was meant to wait at, I wasn’t surprised when I found the area empty.
“¡Muévelo más rápido, cabrón!” someone shouted in thedistance, the rough voice carrying over the clang of metal and hum of cranes.
Other voices reached me from all around but they belonged to the people who worked there. I nodded to myself, turning a corner and stopping two containers away from the one where I was supposed to meet the woman. From this angle, I could spot anyone approaching and avoid whatever trap this might turn out to be.
A chill ran down my spine as I leaned on a container, fishing in my pocket for the pack of cigarettes, and lit one up. For warmth, I dragged in the smoke and let it out just as my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I pulled it out while looking around, brought the device to my view, and caught a text from Milk.
Milk:
Can you please grab something to eat while you’re out?
Another text popped in.
Milk:
I worry.
I smiled, letting the cigarette hang between my lips as I typed and sent a response.
Me:
Ok mom.
I probably wouldn’t. I didn’t have the appetite, and I wasn’t feeling hungry. Exiting her message box, I scrolled down tohismessage box. The nickname “Dad” was still saved as his contact.
I clicked on the name, my stomach clenching when I sawthe last conversation… or lack thereof. It was the night before the school bus incident. I’d just left his house and told him to text me when he woke up. He didn’t respond to the text because he’d called instead.
God, it seemed like a long time ago.
Should I text him now? Would he respond? Do Iwantto text him?
“Oh for God’s sake, this is driving me nuts,” I mumbled, because how the fuck did I go and fuck things up by catching feelings for someone like him? I was always careful… hell, I fucked around with Devil way longer than I did with Elio and it didn’t get me this worked up. How did this happen to me?
Why do I want to fix it? I shouldn’t want that.
But dammit, I do, and I need to stop denying it or it’ll drive me crazy.
I took another drag from the cigarette, let it out, and started typing. I sent it before I could chicken out.
Me:
Hey, it’s me
I stared at the message with a frown. “Of course he’s gonna know it’s me…”Assuming he still has my number.Fuck. I typed and sent another message.
Me:
Zahra, it’s Zahra. How are u doin?
Delivered.
He still has my number then. Which is a good sign.
Fidgeting, I flicked the cigarette away, feeling warm enough from the knots in my stomach as I waited for the message to indicateread. It didn’t.
I waited… but nothing came.
