“Can you stop yelling? It’s really not a big deal. “What’s up? I’m sitting in the car park of Salsa’s because you stood me up again!” My voice is loud, but I don’t care. “Hey babe, what’s up?”Ĭhoosing to ignore the female noise until later, I tell him what’s up. The noise makes my stomach drop in to my intestines. Shh.” I hear him whisper to someone with a high pitched giggle. Each time it reaches his voicemail I grow angrier and angrier, until he finally answers. I don’t leave a voicemail, but I do call again. It rings out and I’m greeted by his stupid voicemail. I search for his name in my contacts list and hit dial. I lean over and dig hastily through the contents of my handbag until I locate my phone. Tears burn at my tear ducts, but I don’t dare let them fall. With a growl, I throw my handbag into the passenger seat. My dark shadow reflects in the blue paint of my sedan as I unlock the car and climb in. I’ve always found calm weather soothing, but tonight’s cold, still weather isn’t enough to calm the storm raging inside of me. My high heels tap in an even beat along the concrete as I make my way through the car park. The cool air makes my nose run immediately and I feel the heat of my blush fade from my cheeks.

Strange, considering we’re meant to be well into spring. My cheeks grow warmer and I swear I can feel everyone’s appraising eyes on me. I reach across the table for my handbag and walk quickly toward the exit. I pull my matching black coat off the back of my chair and shrug it on over my shoulders. I rise to my feet and straighten my short, black dress. “Uh,” A blush instantly springs to my cheeks and I cringe at the thought of how red they must look.

“Are you ready to order?” The young waiter asks, running his fingers through the front of his long, blond fringe. Only the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat made me peer around my hair. Startled, I quickly look down at my menu, letting the long chocolate strands of my hair work as a curtain between us. I peer over to the bar and meet the waiter’s boyish face and blue eyes.

To make matters worse, the waiter that has been coming over to my table for the past hour asking me if I want to order is the same damn waiter that has attempted to serve me the last two times I’ve been stood up. It’s the third time this month Blade has left me at Salsa’s Mexican restaurant waiting for him because he prefers to ‘hang with his boys’ over his girlfriend of six years. Sadly, this isn’t the first time I’ve been stood up. I toss my phone back into my handbag and I glance around the room, frustrated by Blade’s cancellation.

Consumed by skyla madi