Tasha and I lingered at our booth, sun-warmed cocktails in hand, the hum of conversation from other tables a soft backdrop to our catch-up. She filled me in on her move, the chaos of packing in Johannesburg, the endless forms, and the relief of finally settling somewhere familiar.
I listened, laughed, sipped, and pretended I wasn’t acutely aware of the man at the bar.
Alan hadn’t moved much ,still leaning against the counter, one hand wrapped around his glass, the other resting on the bar. He wasn’t watching me openly, but every time I let my gaze wander, our eyes seemed to meet for just a fraction of a second before I forced mine back to Tasha.
We ordered another round. The Jenga tower between us wobbled with every pull, our forfeits getting sillier the more the cocktails loosened us up.
My phone buzzed on the table.
Alan.
Without a pause, I flipped it over, screen-down, and nudged it out of my line of sight.
Tasha noticed, her brows rising slightly, but she didn’t comment. Not yet.
The buzz came again. Then again.
We were laughing over her story about a disastrous blind date when Emily and Kare arrived, bringing with them the smell of fresh perfume and a wave of chatter. They slid into the booth like they owned it, instantly flagging the waiter for drinks.
The next buzz had Tasha smirking. “Aiii, kwani, who’s that you’re ignoring like that?”
I gave her my most nonchalant smile. “Just let him be. Trust me, he isn’t good news.”
Emily leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Is it bomb sex?”
Kare gasped. “Eeh! Umeficha huyu mtu, waah.”
The three of them dissolved into laughter, clinking glasses over my supposed secret.
“Calm down, guys. We’re not dating,” I said with a shrug. “It’s nothing serious.”
My phone rang.
Every head turned toward me with identical, expectant grins.
“Just pick the damn phone,” Tasha said.
I silenced the call and placed it back on the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him looking directly at me — steady, unblinking , before glancing down and making another call.
Kare moved before I could stop her, snatching my phone and pressing it to my ear.
“My car. Now.” His voice was low, deliberate, before the line went dead.
I turned my head just in time to see him walking out of the restaurant.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmured, sliding from the booth and heading toward the bathroom instead.
Inside, I gripped the edge of the sink, my reflection meeting my own narrowed eyes. Who the hell does he think he is to talk to me like that?
My phone buzzed in my hand.
I’ll have to punish you for keeping me waiting.
A shiver ran through me, uninvited.
I smoothed my hair, adjusted my dress, and walked back to the table. “Girls, I’ll be back shortly,” I said, grabbing my bag.
Their faces were a mix of laughter and intrigue, but I didn’t wait for comments. I was already moving toward the door.