"Hello Frank," I say sweetly. "How are you doing this week?"
I don't feel ashamed of jabbing at his by-monthly mood swings.
There is a curvy girl standing next to him, wearing a blond wig and a figure-hugging dress.
"Hi," I say to her. "I'm Kayla,"
She gives me a once over, very rudely, and adds an eye roll to the mix.
Oooh-kay…
"And this is Ronald," I say, refusing to let the awkwardness of the situation faze me.
"I want to talk to you," Frank says without sparing a glance at Ronald.
Rude.
"About?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.
"Alone," he adds, glaring.
I want to stretch this out, but I also feel like whatever conversation needs to be had between us needs to be private.
"I'll be back in a bit," I tell Ronald. I try for a smile, but it falls as soon as it's on. Ronald gives me an encouraging smile along with his nod.
I'm soon on my toes and facing Frank. "Lead the way," I say.
He walks towards the exit, blond girl in tow before I grab her wrist.
"Three is a crowd, honey," I snap at her.
It is an out-of-body experience for me, being blatantly rude to strangers, but I don't feel in control. And I like it.
"Frank?" She calls, her eyes defiant yet unsure.
"Let her go, Kayla," Frank says sternly.
I am tempted to say no, but I remember that Ronald is watching the scene too and I reluctantly let go.
"I think you should stay here, Em," he tells her.
She looks like she wants to protest, but in the end walks to a table and takes a seat.
I give Frank a shooing motion and follow him out the exit.
"What do you think you're doing?" Frank demands once we're out of earshot.
"What do you mean?" I ask innocently.
Frank's form does not look flattering in the least. He looks haggard, like he's spent the last few days trekking the rift valley without food or water and by the looks of it, a change of clothes.
"Why are you trying to pick a fight with Emily?" He demands.
Nevermind that I have no clue who the hell Emily is.
"Does she have any inkling of what the term privacy entails?" I ask nonchalantly.
"Why are you being like this? And who is that guy?" He asks.
"You said you wanted to talk," I point out. "This has turned into an interrogation."
Frank's glare holds steady and it wears me down eventually.
I sigh heavily. "Fine. That's Ronald. He's my friend. We work together,"
"Why did you move without telling me?" He asks.
I shrug. "I didn't feel like telling you," I say.
"You didn't feel like informing your boyfriend that you were moving away?" He asks with gritted teeth.
"Did my boyfriend inform me of the girl he was seen kissing at a restaurant?" I retort.
His eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
I've got to hand it to him, he's great at acting. I'd almost believe the lies he's about to spew if I hadn't seen it myself.
"I saw you!" I yell, suddenly unable to contain my emotions. "So don't tell me that I was deceived because I saw you kiss that girl with my own eyes!"
"When?" He asks.
"Spare me the bull shit, Frank. I'm past trying to reconcile. It's over between us," I tell him, shoving past him to walk back to the inn.
"It was an accident," he says.
"Tell that to someone who cares!" I respond.
I make my way to the cashier and pay our bill. Ronald follows me out and I'm suddenly very glad for his presence and very sorry that he was forced to witness my drama with Frank.
We're sitting in traffic, the noise of cars honking the only sounds in the car, when Ronald starts to sing 'Old McDonald had a farm'. He sings the pig and cow verses before I join in with the hen verses.
"With the cluck-cluck here and the cluck-cluck there," we sing, "Here cluck, there cluck, everywhere cluck-cluck!"
I laugh with him, feeling redeemable and we sing more ridiculous songs as he drives us back to Rutherford Suites.
"I'm sorry about what happened back there," he says once he has parked his car in the basement.
"I had a great time," I say, placing my hands on his for reassurance. "And that argument had to happen sooner or later. I'm just sorry you had to see that," I tell him.
"That guy was a jackass, I hope you know," he says.
I smile at him. "I know,"
There is a moment. A fleeting moment when I can smell his minty breath and his woodsy cologne and I can see how deep brown his eyes are. I feel as if I'm pulled into him by a magnetic force and I know in that moment that we're going to kiss. That I'm going to enjoy that kiss. That the kiss could lead to something more.
Then I remember that I'm not in the right mind space for a relationship or whatever it is that could start with Ronald. I remember that I just broke up with my boyfriend and I have an awful track record with dating.
Just like that, the spell is broken and I pull away from him.
I exhale an awkward laugh. "Umm…thanks for uh, the ride. I should really go but umm…I'll see you tomorrow?"
I don't really wait for a response, instead hurriedly get out of the car and take the stairs two at a time to my apartment.
Once inside I shut the door behind me and lean against it. The word 'coward' repeats over and over in my head without hesitation.
I regret pulling away from Ronald; all I can think about is the kiss that could have happened but didn't, but I can't turn him into a rebound and I don't do 'no strings attached'. I will just have to live with the decision of rejecting him.
I already can't stomach the thought of seeing him tomorrow. Or the day after.
I think I'm going to be sick.
I run to the sink in the kitchen and splash tap water on my face. I need to get it together.
I don't have to acknowledge what almost happened.
It can be water under the bridge.
My phone rings from my clutch.
It's Indrek.
Good. I needed someone to distract me from my trainwreck of a love life.
I pick up.
"Back from the dead, I see," I say.
"I could not miss the end of your first day," he responds.
I sigh, no idea why. "Yet you remained absent a whole day before. How selfish of you to leave me without a support system, Man-bun,"
"I apologize, Ponytail. Coach has been hard on us these last two days," he says, exhaling.
"Why? You won," I say, as if he needs a reminder that his team played and won.
"Exactly. We've been analysing the game over and over and now I feel like breaking coach's nose," he says, exhaling again. "You can see why I need you to talk my ear off,"
I smile despite myself. "Well my day was great up until about two hours ago when my ex decided to bring bad vibes into ice cream," I say, intentionally holding back information about Ronald. Because logic.
"That monster!" Indrek gasps dramatically.
"Right? Who ruins something as innocent as ice cream?" I ask, smiling wider.
"I have ideas," he says vaguely, as if he's holding out information.
"I'm scared to ask," I tell him.
"Good," he says with a tone of finality. "Now tell me about your day," he orders.
I curl my toes and sigh again. "Well, I had to give a speech. It was like, super short, just introductory. Then I volunteered for the decorating committee because they're holding a dance this weekend. Finally, I ATE!" I exclaim.
"What do you mean by," he pauses then imitates me, "'ATE!'?"
"There was so much food! A friend of mine ate like three plates. I ate one and a half. I'm SUCH a sucker for chicken biryani," I gush. "I could eat it forever and not get bored,"
"It sounds like you should have had more," Indrek points out.
"You don't understand how hard it was for me to get that extra half plate. Chicken biryani was like, the star of the buffet. Everyone wanted some," I say.
"I'm going to have to look up that recipe," Indrek says. "Aren't I?"
"You cook? Also, you don't have to," I tell him.
I begin to undo the buttons of my white blouse while he responds.
"On the contrary. I have to see what all the hype is about," he says. "And of course I cook,"
I take off my blouse and let my trousers follow suit.
"If you're half as good a cook as you are a football player, I think you will really enjoy it," I tell him.
"You're not showing faith, my dear ponytail. It wounds me," he says. "Which reminds me, you're wearing a ponytail, am I right?"
"Of course. It's the first day," I inform him. "Do you want to know what else I'm wearing?" I ask in a teasing manner.
"Ohh, let me guess," he pauses a moment. "It's pink?"
I roll my eyes. "No, not at the moment. I'm wearing red,"
"Ooh," he whispers. "Red lingerie,"
"Indrek…" I groan.
"I'm out of guesses," he sighs defeated.
I throw on my Arsenal jersey and take a selfie, then send it to him.
"Check your inbox," I tell him.
I can hear his breathing, his movements in bed, his fingers tapping the screen.
"Is that my jersey?" He asks.