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03|Worse Than The First..

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Stalker much?
-My Girl.

I stared at the bold words on my phone screen, rage bubbling to the surface. Part of my anger was directed at the man who sent the message, but the larger chunk landed squarely on my friend.

It was her fault. If only she had respected that little section of the screen, none of this would have happened.

And if only you had taken yourself seriously and focused while collecting your friend's number in the first place, this disaster wouldn't exist! The sarcastic voice in my head piped up.

I facepalmed, letting out an exaggerated groan.

Determined to play the mature game, I ignored his text and tried to continue with my tasks.

I managed to hold out for thirty minutes before I finally exploded and decided to send him a piece of my mind.

It was an honest mistake made by a friend of mine. Don't think so highly of yourself.
-Amirah.

I fought the urge to pair my response with an emoji that captured my exasperation. Just as I settled back into my thoughts, another message pinged.

Suit yourself. It'll only be fair for me to see your face since you've seen mine.
-My Girl

So it is him.

It is really him. Damnit!

I actually wished he was some lanky old dude.

But nothing about his voice sounded old or lanky. Instead, it had a rich combination of boldness and huskiness, a blend that was almost delicious to my ears. Too manly to ignore.

Okay, it's official. I'm delusional. Why do I sound like I'm crushing on a stupid, arrogant stranger? A stranger I accidentally called! Lord, save me!

I never thought awkward, lanky people could be arrogant. No offense!
-Amirah.

No offense taken. You're admitting you stalked me. Great way to catch a liar.
-My Girl.

We were past the stage of strangers now.

He seemed determined to keep this conversation alive, even though it irked me to no end. We were just trading insults, which meant I'd have to rename his contact. No one calls me a liar without consequences. I could easily change the contact details and forward it to Daddy along with my complaints about this idiot.

I didn't stalk you, and I'm no liar. Go to hell.
-Amirah.

That line sucks. It's outdated.
-Arrogant AH.

Why aren't you some waste picker? Got nothing better to do?
-Amirah.

Checking up on you now, aren't I? For your information, I'm on a break. Training ambitious kids isn't easy.
-Arrogant AH.

I paused, stunned. What kind of ambitious kids needed training? To fight? To shoot? That sounded like something a terrorist group would do.

My stomach churned at the thought. I didn't know who this man was, but here I was, exchanging lighthearted insults with him. They were harmless, right? At least to me. I hoped the same for him.

I'd better tell myself he's a dance teacher, not anything more sinister.

Deceive yourself. My conscience constantly opposed what I said, an ongoing internal battle.

I know, right? Learning new moves and teaching them to others is hard work.
-Amirah.

Even though I'm past the stage of learning, so scratch that part, and we're cool.
-Arrogant AH

AH stands for asshole, by the way, and it suits him oh-so-perfectly.

Guess you'll have to teach me some moves. Mine have gotten pretty lazy lately.
-Amirah.

I hit send, but immediately regretted it. It sounded way too much like flirting, and that wasn't my intention!

What exactly do I do?
-Arrogant AH.

Uhh, you teach little kids how to...dance? It's okay, you can trust me not to spill. Your secret is safe with me.
-Amirah.

Dance? You're already underestimating me. Break's over.
-Arrogant AH

I could already picture you in jeggings! Bye.
-Amirah.

I stifled a laugh, desperately trying not to burst out as I awaited his response.

None came, not even after twenty minutes, not that I counted.

Call me pathetic, but I swear I waited. Two hours later, there was still no message.

Boredom settled deep within my bones as I gazed out at the horizon, the sky looked too beautiful to not have the memory saved. Captivated by the scene, I grabbed my camera and snapped pictures of the breathtaking beauty.

0o0

"Munchkin, your mother is coming back in two days, Inshaa Allah," Daddy announced over breakfast.

"Really, Daddy? We need to start preparing food and everything else!" My excitement bubbled over, making it so hard for me to sit in place.

"Two days, my girl. Not two hours." He chuckled at my enthusiasm.

"Daddy, two days means 48 hours. They've been gone for over a month!" I exclaimed.

"Maryam Amira," he said, shaking his head playfully as he turned the page of his newspaper. "Here's an article about your friend's wedding."

"Really? Any pictures of the bride or her friends?" I leaned in closer, eager to see.

"Yeah... there's one here." He pointed to the center of the paper with his finger.

"Spot your daughter!" I wiggled my brows at him, clearly ready for the challenge.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, squinting at the photo.

"Uhh, the bridesmaids' asoebi? It was peach. I wore an off-the-shoulder fitted dress with a slit in the back," I explained, proud of my choice.

"Are you the one with the blue veil?" His finger landed on a girl in a hideous dress, which couldn't have been more different from mine. Yuck, Daddy.

"Nah, I wore no veil." I waved him off. Who wears a veil to a wedding they plan to enjoy? Definitely not me!

"Well, I don't see you."

"Daddy, let me take a look." I rolled my eyes. He couldn't recognize his own daughter just because I had on makeup, something he should be used to by now.

"Look at me!" I exclaimed, pouting as I pointed out how clearly I was captured in the photo, fully facing the camera.

"Oh, I can't believe it! I actually didn't recognise you. You look stunning. If only your arms weren't so exposed... but you still look breathtaking." He complimented me, trying to mask his disapproval.

I knew exactly what he was doing. He was hinting that he disapproved of my outfit without directly saying so, wary of provoking my wrath. I've always had a short fuse when it came to comments about my appearance. I get it, fashion was more conservative during his courtship with my mother. But he can't possibly compare my sense of style to his past; I was practically raised in the heart of fashion. Trust me, I know what looks good on me.

If I don't put my best foot forward, how could he expect me to attract an equally respectable, fashionable, and charming man?

Think again, Daddy!

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Hey Assalam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah.

This book is cliché, I'm warning yaaa. Everything happens for a reason so please don't go about criticising her for communicating with him freely (Even you know say there's a special way us women treat fine guys😂) but don't mind me. Let's just read,vote and comment. Oh, then Share please.

Ohh We're all fine, right? Alhamdulillah.

V.C.S Kindly.

NanaAmiinah_Xo.