*already regretting it?* I jumped when I recieved the second message , okay this was too late I initiated this, I might as well finish it.
* no. How are you?* I sent, feeling less like myself, my self image dimming fast through my eyes.
* didnt expect you to text. I'm glad*
*... Why?*
*want a piece of shaikha pie *
*lame*
* seriously, I like you, you intrigue me*
My stomach flipped. I intrigued him? Warmth spread throughout my entire body, it's been a long time Since someone last gave me his full and undivided attention. It felt nice.
* you don't even know me*
* I want to know everything, I have all night..*
* what do you want to know? I want to know things too*
* I'm 30. I drive for a living. I love beauty*
* drive?*
A minute later he sent me a picture of himself with the whole professional driving gear and helmet and one hell of a sexy race car.
*oh. No experience whatsoever eb hl sowalif.. I still don't know what you want from me*
* I want to be your friend*
* no you dont. What do you want?*
* you. I want to be your friend and get to know you. Simple*
* you dont mind the fact that I'm unavailable?*
* you didnt give me that impression. Besides all I want is friendship for now*
I was all sweat by now. I didn't know what to say to him really, my husband was snoring right beside me and I was texting another man I barely knew.
* I better get to bed*
I turned my phone off, popped a sleeping pill and attempted to sleep. My buzzing mind keeping me from rest.
When I woke up the next morning , Mubarak was already gone. Of course.
My stomach dipped when I opened my phone and saw two texts from the mysterious guy.
* already?*
*ok. Sleep tight*
I sighed and deleted the texts. And then I did a full google search on him. Wow, he really was something in that strange world of racing I knew nothing about. I was suddenly interested in knowing about the races. His social media accounts were now saved in my phone, plus a couple of pictures of him in his driving gear/suit with his racing car. My recklessnes continued with another google search of a certain ugly marriage wrecker. The bitch.
I showered, curled my hair to perfection and put on a sky blue sundress. Looking like shit won't make me feel any better about myself and sure as hell won't bring my husband back to me;that's why I put on extra effort with my looks today.
By the time I was finished getting ready it was already past one and I'd made plans with some friends for lunch. Again, willowing in self pity and shutting everyone out won't make things better..
Just when I was about to park in our favorite dining spot , I recieved a whatsapp. Oh god, it was him again! I gulped.
* hey * one word. That was safe yet I felt all prickly and guilty and weird.
Damn it Shaikha! You should feel guilty...
My fingers obviously had a mind of their own because I found myself sending back *hey*
I dropped my phone in my purse, turned off the ignition and got out of the car.
I won't check my phone, I won't check my phone, I WONT CHECK MY DAMN PHONE!
" shayooookh!"
Phew, a lucky distraction. I waved back at my friend, give her a quick hug and we head inside the restaurant, chattering all the way through.
Friends are great; they do make you forget your reality for a while. And it's been a long time since I last really hung out with my favorite group..I guess I got really distracted with the whole wedding thing. What a waste.
We ate and laughed and talked and it was really great , plus I didn't check my phone once , Not that I didn't think about it, but I kinda wanted to make him wait..and I also wanted , really wanted to get a text from my husband.
Unfortunately there was none from Mubarak and a couple from sexy stranger. I sat in my car and stared at his texts for minutes too long.
* how are you?*
* I've a race today, wish me luck*
* I've never been to one* I finally replied back. * and goodluck*
* really?* He replied immediately * want to see your first race?*
Yes! * yes*
* ok, I'll arrange a good seat for you and I'll send you the location*
* great. Thank u*
Oh my god. A car race! I don't recognize myself anymore..
When I arrived back to the apartment , mubarak was there lying on the L shaped sofa, remote control in one hand. He looked yummy , I sighed in defeat.
The sound of my heels made him turn his head my way, his eyes lingering on my legs. I felt heat gathering in the pit of my stomach, damn him for making me feel this way.
And then he nodded breifly and turned back to his documentary , as If I didn't exist..
