No, no.
It was more than that. I was craving to see him again.
As irrational as it felt and inexplicable in a way, I let myself be carried away by that feeling, and I didn’t mind waiting for him.
But the nights went by, empty and uneventful.
He didn’t show up last night either, and chances are tonight won’t be any different.
Close to midnight, I notice a man gesturing to someone in the parking lot. I do a double take, and my heart leaps to my throat.
‘There he is,’ sneers a mocking voice in my head, warning me to stay away from him.
I push the pestering thought back and shift my focus to the man who’s taken up residence in my head lately.
Stonewashed, dark jeans sit low on his hips, the fabric slashed, unraveling in places. He wears his signature black boots and a skintight white T-shirt that sets off his tattooed torso, cut arms, and carved chest.
A low-hung belt snakes around his hips.
He stretches his arm out, the fingers holding his cigarette pointing at something in the distance.
His hand slides through his hair before disappearing into his pocket. He brings his cigarette to his lips, his cheeks going hollow while he takes a drag.
Next, he blows the smoke out, flicks the cigarette to the pavement, crushes it under his boot, and strides to a nearby motorcycle.
A rush of panic sweeps through me.
Before I can think of anything, he straddles his Harley, revs it up, and leaves the parking lot, tail spinning.
A sigh rolls off my lips as I lean back in my chair.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This is a classic trap.
Seemingly, I’m losing my head over someone I know I can’t have. And to make things worse, I can’t even figure him out.
I ponder for a few more moments, unsure of what to do, if anything. I should probably just go home, take a cold shower and forget about him.
But no, no.
My stubbornness doesn’t serve me well this time. I tell myself he might come back, so I stick around.
Close to one in the morning, I lose hope and finally give up on the idea.
It was about damn time.
I glance around. The place is almost empty. Reluctantly, I gather my keys and phone and get ready to leave.
I make a quick stop in the ladies' room, and as I exit the bathroom and enter the narrow corridor in the back, I bump into a wall of muscles.
He tears away quickly and brushes past me, pushing through the back door and leaving the establishment.
His scent spreads over me like fire.
I suck in what feels like all the air in the hallway and think about it for a moment.
Where is he going?