The Dilemma -- Part 4

in #fiction7 years ago


 

Ring! Ring! The sound of her phone woke her up in the middle of the night. She couldn’t be 

bothered to switch on the light, because she knew if she did there was no going back to sleep. 


As she reached for her phone, she accidentally pushed it off the side table; the fall caused the ringing 

to stop. She was relieved.


Who the hell calls someone at this hour anyway?

 A few seconds later she received a text message. Irritated she picked her phone off the 

floor. 

“I miss you” read the text. She smiled. 

And as she squinted over her phone in search of his 

number, she realized that that was the first time they had been in contact since that unfortunate 

outing. 

Once he picked up, she realized that unlike her he was quite awake. 

She began the 

conversation in a hushed sleepy tone until her brain grew more alert and aware. 

 

They spoke for almost two hours, about everything except their complex romantic 

entanglement. 


All the while she thought, why do I need to be the adult in this pseudo-

relationship? Is it me? Am I a control freak? 

Or is there something wrong with him? Maybe 

there is a problem, he doesn’t want to discuss with me? 


Or maybe I’m attracted to douche-bags? 


But the thing is he’s not, or I want to believe he isn’t. 

Either way, I’m the one who needs to 

initiate every step in this relationship, that’s of course assuming we’re even in one.


All those questions kept running around in her head, when his final question cut her train of 

thought.

“When can I see you again? It’s been a while don’t you think?”


“Soon.” Hanging up the phone, she sighed in exacerbation and lied in bed in wait of the start of a 

new day. 

"Don't worry...she'll be back.

"-To be continued- 

Part   1  - https://steemit.com/story/@ladytt/the-old-city-in-dilemma-ep01-03

 **All pictures used are labeled for reuse. They come from Pixabay 

 © 2016, JP Publishing, All rights reserved--no part of this may be used without express written consent. 

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