Chapter 16
Lana
A couple of days have passed since I last saw M, and I’m feeling weird. By this time, I thought I would have felt dread over what we did, but those feelings haven’t surfaced. Instead, pleasure and guilt have morphed together and made me…
A total fucking mess.
I want to live my life, but he has totally fucked that up.
“Do you honestly think that you can daydream, Lana? Go and serve some fucking customers!” My boss’s voice is like a car alarm, annoying and loud. What hasn’t changed inside me is my anger. Ever since my dad isn’t around anymore, I have vowed to do things differently and to change.
But this asshole is making it very difficult for me.
Eyes on the prize, Lana.
I close my eyes and inhale and exhale, trying to form some semblance of peace and tranquility.
“I am off my break anyway, Belmin.”
“You better, sweetheart.” My eyes don’t even need to find him as I know that he is looking me up and down.
Calm. Calm. Calm.
He closes the break room door behind him and is off to harass somebody else.
I get up and continue with my shift. Tuesdays are always very busy at the restaurant, especially in the mornings, because of the farmer’s market that’s near the diner.
The only thing that makes this shift bearable is my favorite coworker, Emin.
When I enter the diner's central area, I spot him right away, serving some old ladies with a smile. Emin is tall and slim, with short dark blond hair and dazzling green eyes. He still hasn’t left, which means that he will after our shift.
We have never crossed the line into something more because I value him as an employee, and a lifelong friend.
I get a pen and paper and start waiting on the people in my section. I stalk over to some loud men, and before I get to them, I glance over to Emin, and he raises an eyebrow at me. As if to say, Good luck.
“Now, what can I get for you?” I ask the table of patrons, and my shift goes by quickly.
***
After a couple of hours, my shift has ended, and I walk out into the crisp evening with Emin. He is waiting on a friend who used to work at the diner, and I’m keeping him company before I head home.
“So, how have you been?” he asks me as he lights up a cigarette. In Bosnia, it’s normal for almost everyone to smoke.
“Good. The movie I have been waiting for so long is finally available in the cinema!” I squeal as I’m explaining this, because I’m genuinely excited and have finally gotten something I really wanted. Emin whistles and grins.
“Finally! I know you have waited for that movie for a long time. When are you going to see it?” I raise both of my eyebrows and shuffle my shoes in the melting snow. I feel some embarrassment creeping up inside of me because it’s so silly, but I can’t deny how excited I am.
“Probably this Friday, we’ll see. What are you going to do this weekend? You are off for the rest of the week, right?” Emin nods.
“I am, and I’m not going to do anything exciting. Probably going to follow up on my little hens.” I smile at him, all proud. Emin has been taking care of little hens for a couple of months. They’re his passion.
“Good plan. Are you thinking of getting some more?”
“I only had my eyes on one little hen at this gorgeous ranch, the animal seemed so sad.” I pat him on the back.
“Then go and save that adorable animal.”
“I will, Lana. Oh, look, my ride is here.” Emin hugs me goodbye and gets into the car of our former coworker. I watch him ride away and make my own way toward my piece-of-shit car, ready to go home and decompress.
***
I’m sitting on my couch, eating some reheated dinner, and watching bad reality TV because I couldn’t afford Netflix this month. At least it’s good bad reality TV.
In these little moments, I try to appreciate what I have and find fun in the little things, even if it’s looking for something interesting on cable TV.
“Not interested in dudes wrestling. Fuck the news. Maybe this—” I thought I had found something interesting, but it’s just a boring cooking show.
“Another boring cooking show. No, not this. Skip, skip, skip. Eugh!” I sigh loudly because nothing is interesting on TV.
To escape my frustration, I get up to clean some dishes in the kitchen.
I have always found it imperative for my mental health to clean. Cleaning helps to create some order in my mind.
Twenty minutes have passed, and I’m done. I return to my couch, hoping that something fascinating has introduced itself onto my TV.
Before I can even slump down, my phone is going off on my small kitchen table.
Fuck.
It’s M.
I grab my phone, and now I really slump down on my couch. My hands hover over the screen, debating whether I should take the call. I bring the nail of my thumb to my mouth and start nibbling on it, a habit I need to unlearn.
I bite the bullet and answer the call.
“Yes?” What am I even trying to ask him?
“Well, hello to you, too, Lana,” M says so casually through the phone.
“I mean, yes, hello. How are you?” I compose myself and try not to let his intoxicating voice sway me.
“Good, I’m preparing for a job.” What fucking job? “But I thought I should call you first.”
“Why?” I ask as I twirl a strand of my hair between my fingers.
“Little hummingbird, don’t act so innocent. You can say that you have missed me.” His confidence is unwavering.
“Oh, really? Well, I haven’t,” I tell him as confidently as I can. The unmistakable sound of his laughter rings through the phone.
“Duso moja, don’t lie to me. Do you feel embarrassed by what we did last time?” Even through the phone, his voice carries that infuriating mix of charm and confidence, like awkwardness couldn’t touch him if it tried.
And I cover my face with my left hand.
“Okay, I don’t. You? And why are you calling me? Haven’t you had your fill of me?” I ask him honestly.
“No, and little hummingbird?” I nod even though he can’t see me.
“I’m not even close to feeling satiated. I won’t find rest until I’m buried deep inside of you again.” Holy fucking shit. I remove my hand and steady my face in the palm of my hand while my elbow rests on my knee.
“To play your little game, when do you plan on doing that?” My question carries a certain undertone of playfulness. But I’m steady.
“When you least expect it. So, what are you doing this Friday?”
“Nothing. You?”
“Our date is set then. I’ll pick you up at 7 p.m.” His casualness and unwavering confidence make M a dangerous man. Not to mention that he demands presence and status, even through the phone.
“I haven’t even decided if I want to go.”
“Lana, be ready by seven. I’ll take you out somewhere nice.” I sigh, and I hope he takes that as my confirmation.
“I’m off, my project won’t wait for long. And, Lana?”
“Yes, M?”
“Don’t flip through the channels that quickly and stay on the cooking show next time, it just started to get interesting.” He hangs up immediately, and I can’t even begin to process what he just said.
Is he fucking watching me?
And is he looking at me right now?