Chapter 3|Worse Than The First.
by @nanaamiinah
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Worse Than The First..
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Stalker much?
-My Girl
I stared at the bold words that took refuge on my phone's screen, seething with rage partly directed to the fool and my fool of a friend.
It's all her fault. If only she had respected and refrained herself from touching that stupid part of the screen none of this would've happened.
And if only you had respected yourself and listened attentively while collecting your friend's number in the first place none of this would've happened! A voice in my head sarcastically countered.
I face palmed myself letting out an exaggerated groan.
Deciding to be the adult here I ignored his text and carried on with what I was doing.
I succeeded for thirty minutes before deciding to just let the steam off by sending him a piece of my mind.
It was an honest mistake made by a friend of mine.
Don't think so high of yourself
-Amirah.
I fought the urge to send him an emoji of my facial expression whilst staring at the phone. A minute later, a message beeped in.
Suit yourself. It'll only be fair on me to view your own self since you've seen me.
-My Girl
So it is him.
It is him.
Damnit!
I actually wished he was one lanky old thing.
Nothing about his voice sounds lanky/old.
Well I do admit that nothing about his voice sounded ungraceful. Rather, it's like a combination of bold and husk making it all too delicious to the ears. Too manly.
Okay. It's official, I am delusional. Why the heck do I sound like I was crushing on him. On a stupid arrogant stranger. A stupid arrogant stranger I mistakenly called.
Lord save me!
Never knew that awkward and lanky people can be arrogant. No offence!
-Amirah.
No offence taken. You're actually admitting that you did stalk me. This is a wise way to catch a liar.
-My girl.
We're officially past the stage of strangers since he's clearly bent on talking to me even though it infuriates and spites me, spikes my temper to the brim and we do nothing but spew insults on one another which means I will have to rename his contact. No one calls me a liar and gets away with it freely. By changing the number, I know it'll be easier for me to forward it to Daddy along with complaints about the dude.
I didn't and I'm no liar. Go to hell.
-Amirah.
That line sucks. I mean it's outdated.
-Arrogant AH.
Why aren't you some illiterate waste picker? Got nothing to do?
-Amirah
Checking up on me now aren't you. Well for your information I'm on a break. Training ambitious kids isn't easy.
-Arrogant AH.
This got me stunned for a moment. I mean training ambitious kids to do what? Fight? Shoot? That is what only terrorist groups do.
This got my stomach churning. I don't know who the hell this man is but here I am- busy exchanging small unharmful offensive words with him. They're unharmful right? Atleast to me. I hope they are unharmful to him too.
I'd better stick to the thought of him being a dance teacher not any of the former.
Deceive yourself.
My conscience is one who regularly opposes to what I say. We're always at war with each other.
I know right. I mean learning new moves and implementing them on others is hard.
- Amirah.
Even though I am past the stage of learning so scratch that part of your sentence and everything's cool.
-Arrogant AH.
AH stands for asshole by the way and it suits him oh-so-perfectly.
Guess you would have to teach me some moves. Mine are lazy these days.
-Amirah
I mistakenly hit send. No way to revoke it. It clearly sounds like I'm flirting which I'm absolutely not!
What exactly do I do?
-Arrogant AH
Uhh you teach little kids how to...dance? I mean it's okay you can trust me not to spill it to anyone. Your secret is safe with me.
-Amirah
Dance? You're underestimating me already. Break's over.
-Arrogant AH.
I can already imagine you in jeggins! Bye.
-Amirah.
I stiffled a laugh trying so hard not to burst as I awaited for his reply.
None came even after 20minutes not that I counted or waited for one.
Deem me pathetic but I swear I waited.
Two hours later no message came.
Boredom got the best of me as I stared at the horizon. The sky was filled with orange and purple. Enchanted as I was, I grabbed my camera and took pictures of the beauty.
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"Munchkin, your mother is coming back in two days Inshaa Allah." Daddy informed me over breakfast.
"Really Daddy? Preparations need to be done for food and everything else then."
"Two days my girl, until two days time." He reminded his over-excited daughter.
"Daddy two days means 72 hours. They've been gone for over a month."
"Maryam Amira," Daddy playfully shook his head, turning the page of his newspaper. "Here's an article of your friend's wedding."
"Really? Any pictures of the bride or her friends?"
"Yeah...there's one here" He pointed at the middle of the paper with his index finger.
"Spot your daughter." I wiggled my brows at him.
"What are you wearing?" he asked.
"Uhh the bridesmaids Asoebi (Matching attire), peach. I wore an off-shouldered fitted dress with a slit from behind." I explained.
"Are you the one with a blue veil?" He asked, pointing at a girl wearing a complete opposite outfit to what I explained. Her dress was horrendous, I recognise her from the wedding.
Yuck, Daddy.
"Nahh I wore no veil." I brushed him off. Like who wears a veil to a wedding he intends to enjoy. Definitely not me!
"Well I don't see you."
"Daddy let me take a look." I rolled my eyes. He's not recognising his daughter for the umpteenth time just because she wore makeup, something he's used to seeing.
"Look at me." I exclaimed, pouting and showing him how clear I was shown in the picture, as in I was fully facing the camera when it was taken.
"Oh can't believe it, I actually did not recognise you, you look stunning if only it wasn't for the fact that your arms were too open but you still look breathtaking." He complemented.
I know what he's trying to do. He's indirectly telling me that he doesn't approve of my open arms but is afraid of my wrath. I explode whenever he complains on a tiny detail in my dressing, I get it that during the time when he was wooing my mother there wasn't much exposure in fashion as there is now. He cannot seriously compare my fashion sense to others, I once lived in the heart of Fashion for God's sake so trust me when I say I know what makes me look good. If I don't look good to the brim how would he expect me to find myself an equally respectable, fashionable, charming man that would match with me?
Think again Daddy!
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