Tongue Tied

Chapter 19

Chapter 19:

Saturday night, 7:58pm. I'm waiting for Alex on the couch and watching tv. Well, not watching tv, it's background noise, like being in the waiting room at the DMV when the news was on. I rushed through dinner. My parents warned me I would get hiccups if I ate too fast. It was inevitable. I'm nervous. I hiccupped while I got dressed. It made my throat hurt. I drank so much water, I could literally hear my bladder sloshing around. I peed three times before 7pm. I don't want this date to be a disaster. This is a bad idea. He's not gonna show up, is he? Was he too good to be true? No. No. He's a good one, I hope. This will be my clean slate. I tug on my shirt, swiping my hair off my shoulders repeatedly. The doorbell rings. It's him. No high expectations, have an open mind, Maya. And think about it: this date is successful, there could be a certain second date. Before I answer the door, I readjust my sleeves, hem, and fan my face. "One moment!" I yell out. Dad was in the living room while Craig's in his room and mom went out with her friends. "I'll get it," dad offers. Hearing his heavy footsteps set me in a panic. My head snaps from side to side.

"No, I got it!" I run to the foyer, but Craig is at the same speed, smiling deviously. "Move!"

"Who is it you're hiding? Is it Sam again?" Craig asks when he reaches for the door. I push him with my hip. His feet planted, he rams my upper arm.

"OW, move! He's waiting for me!" I whine, the doorbell rings and I struggle to push him. He wrestles and shoves me to the ground successfully.

"Ha!" He twists the knob. I punch him on the leg and he goes down. I open the door with a huge smile on my face. Only it's not Alex. It's Sam. His eyes widened, checking me out from head to toe. I frown, "What are you doing here?" I'm hallucinating. He's not here.

"Huh, you look nice. Why? Oh, your date." He hits his forehead in a duh notion. No, it's him. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, so if you could kindly leave." I shoo him away.

"I need my phone. I left it here," he states.

"No, you didn't," I frown, "we would have heard it."

"It's on vibrate," he claims.

"Sis, you're a liar. You said you were going out with Alex," Craig tries to push me away again.

"I am, go away, you too. Good night." I point opposite directions to the boys: Craig to the stairs with my left arm and Sam to the front door with my right arm.

"I need my phone." He enters the threshold without asking if he could.

"Sure, come in. Would you like some water while I wait for my date?" I say sarcastically.

"I would love some, thank you," Sam grins, reacting in the same tone.

"We're all out. You can drink from your garden hose."

"No, thanks." He goes to our living room couch, tucking his hand in the cushion as he searches for his device he claims he forgot. I bring out my phone to text Alex: hey, where are you?

I poke out my tongue to wait for his response, for any text bubbles. I tap my foot, staring at the screen.

"He's not gonna answer if you stare at the screen like that," he says in a playful tone. I shoot a glare, seething, grinding my teeth and went back to my screen. Nothing. I pocket my phone and cross my arms.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Dad says, walking into the living room. "I thought you had a date with another boy."

"I do. Sam left his phone and then he's leaving," I rush out saying, sending a glare at Sam, who was taking his time looking for his phone.

"Ok, well, find your phone and go. It's getting late. When is your young man coming?" Dad asks.

"He's not my young man." Yet, "but he's running late. He'll be here soon. Did you find it?" I question Sam when I face him.

"Yup." He waves the phone in my face like a prize.

"Great, you can go now." I cue him to leave with a wave of my hand to the front door, opening it and pointing out the door. He smirks and stares at me intently. His pupil is wide, scanning me from head to toe. I gulp. "What?"

"You're really going out with this guy?" He asks, squinting.

I knit my brows. "What's it to you?" Is he serious? He has some nerve asking me that.

"Is he your type?" He sounds jealous. Ugh, he's doing that thing again, that flirty look. His tone gets lower, and he does that eye thing that Ian Somerholder from the Vampire Diaries is good at. The fluttering feeling hits my stomach when he looks at me like that.

I scoff. "He's the type that won't treat me like a third wheel on my date." I tilt my head to the side with a knowing look. He throws his head back and shakes it.

"You won't let that go, will you?"

"I'm not your type, so why would you care who's mine?" He frowns, licking his bottom lip. I nibble mine and breathe out, forcing my eyes to his and not his lips. "Please go."

"Good night." His tone is low. He exits my house.

"Hmm," I murmur and slam the door. His tone seems like he cared. Please, all I have to do is wait for Alex and the rest of the night will be great. It's only 6 pm. I had time. I turn on the tv to pass the time, I see the news and flip it to another channel. That 70s show is on. It's an old show, it looks funny. Just one episode. I hold my phone in my hand as I wait for his call with hope.

I'm on episode 5. It's past 11 pm. My phone did not ring once. Hope is irrational. He stood me up. I call him; it goes straight to voicemail. Again. My arm droops on the side of the chair as I stare into the abyss of the illuminating device. He's not coming. He's not coming. He stood me up.

"Maya, it's 11. Why are you still dressed? How was your date?" Mom asks as she approaches me in the living room. Mom's in her red robe, crossing her arms over chest.

"I didn't go," I say, staring at the tv when the character Kelso says 'burn' to the other character.

"What?" Mom's voice expresses worry. "What happened?"

"He... couldn't come." Changing from 'didn't' to 'couldn't' was the best. Mom would cry and tell me I deserve better and there would be other dates. My throat croaks and I mask it by clearing my throat. "He got the sniffles." Why am I lying for him? I scold mentally.

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry." She gives me a hug, holding my shoulders tenderly. I rest my head on her hand and close my eyes. "There will be other dates with other boys. Don't worry." I nod. There it is. The reassurance, but I know there won't be. He stood me up. My cheeks swell and my eyes sting. I blink to avoid the tears dropping. I don't want my mom to worry. She probably had too much going on already. Dad and she have not spoken since their night out. She pats my upper back and says, "get to bed, ok? You need some rest."

"Ok, mom." She goes upstairs first. When she disappears, I hitch a breath and wipe a stray tear from my cheek. I turn off the tv, and stand from the couch, going upstairs to my room. Is there something wrong with me? I take off my clothes, wash the makeup off my face, brush my teeth and change into my pajamas. I tuck my body in bed, shut off the lights. Staring at the ceiling in the dark is where I keep my overthinking thoughts. I'm such an idiot.