Break In
~seikiunne11
I sometimes wonder, why do I find it hard to say things even when I can just really say. I’d simply keep my mouth shut and let things unfold the way they should be.
It all started with a casual date. I guess for single adults, it’s a nearly normal thing to do. You can go out with anyone, with a friend, with friends, without worrying about the time or jealousy issues. We were friends since we were kids, got out of touch when I transferred schools, and was only able to contact one another when social media got popular. We’re both licensed professionals now with stable jobs, and our most often complaint was over time.
It was funny when he started trying to ask if I was in a relationship or not, I wasn’t very vocal about my personal life. My female friends tend to know I had a boyfriend after a breakup. They insist I look prettier when single, and stressed when I’m in a commitment. I only have a simple answer: I’m better off alone. Relationships only drag me down, honestly. I find it hard to deal with men who have a hard time accepting that a female could be better than them. Not that my attitude is demeaning, I’m actually the opposite. I tend to be sweet and thoughtful to a partner or to my family, but when I’m at work I pay no heed to anyone. I guess some people can’t accept that I have to split my personality just to fulfill my social roles. And he was no stranger to that either. We started meeting up with a group of friends, and he’d see me childish and all girly. He’d talk to me and I’d be sounding pleasant and cheerful. But when he called me one time I was working late and rushing, I guess he couldn’t believe his ears that he was hearing crass instead of class. That didn’t stop him though. We still met up with our common friends but he was silent than before, and just listened to me when I talked. He did try provoking me one time, by “accidentally” spilling coffee over my papers and books. I swear I killed him in my mind, but out of my anger I just walked out of the café. He ran after me to the parking lot and try stopping me.
“Hey I said I’m sorry!” He shouted as he grabbed my arm and tried to take my books away from my firm grasp.
“I already said its okay. Could you let go of my arm? I have to go home.” I tried wrenching my elbow out of his hand, but he won’t let me go without an injury.
“Let me drive you.” He sounded reproaching but I wasn’t relenting.
“I’m fine. You don’t have to.” I gave him a sharp look, yanked my arm, got in my car, and drove away.
That night he tried calling me, but since it was past midnight, I didn’t pick up.
The next morning I woke up with a bad headache and more than a dozen missed calls and fifty text messages. ‘What the hell is wrong with this guy?!’ I thought. I decided to take a leave off from work since it would be pointless because I had to redo printing all my papers as they are now coffee-stained. I never bothered reading what was on my phone. I knew it was nothing important. I couldn’t even have my morning coffee because the mere memory of it creates multiple creases on my brow. After an hour of printing all my papers and cleaning up my space, I felt lazy to cook so I decided to go out.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt someone nearly scoop behind me as I was about to walk to the parking lot.
It was him.
And he had bags of take-out in one hand, while the other was dangerously around my waist.
“Where are you going? I told you I’d come and bring you lunch.”
“Wha-How did you know I was here?”
“You weren’t answering me on your phone so I called at your office and they told me you skipped work. Luckily I ran into you before you get away again.”
