Chapter 32. Woof Woof

Point of view: Emara Stone

Rita dropped me home.

Exactly at the door of my apartment, but I know she wanted to drop me to my bed. She was waiting for me to call her inside for a coffee or something but I straight away thanked her and went inside. And locked the door. Savage, I know.

I ain't into chicks. Coz I am a chick ;)

Also, I have pictures of me and Ethan hanging in our living room. I can't risk my identity. I toss my phone on the bed, remove my clothes, and throw them on the floor then directly run for a shower. Shower! Oh god.

Shower is a wet heaven.

Finally, no more periods. Yasssssss, I am one of those lucky females on the earth who only bleed for four days. I wash my hair in two minutes, now that they are short it is easy to shampoo them also I need not comb or dry them for hours. I love my short hair. So silky, so soft.

I come out of the shower, throw the towel on the chair. I see shirts and pants on the floor, on the cupboard, on the chair. I need to wash them. Errrrr!

Frustration is taking over me like my second skin. Not sure if I need sex, sleep, or to punch someone's face.

I wish Rita hadn't called, at least I would have kissed hotty. We could make a cute gay couple. Am I stupid?

I open my cupboard for clothes. I see my blue, pink, red, black, white colors of lingerie. Lingerie for a special occasion that is not going to come anytime soon. I simply chose a grey bra and panty.

I realize my life is dry, like sandpaper. I don't go to clubs or on tinder dates like my other classmates do. I feel like I don't belong in this fast forward modern generation. I am an old school person.

Simplicity is the new black for me.

I lift my one leg then another and put it inside my panty. Suddenly my phone rings, I try to get it but my leg slips and I fall flat on the floor, my panties get stuck onto my legs.

Was I hallucinating? Did I just see him?

I crawl to my bed as my panties are still stuck in between my legs. I grab the phone and see an unknown number calling, but TrueCaller says it's Ryan Damison. There is a picture of him in a suit too. That's him. That's him.

Ryan sexy Damison calling me!!!!

I pick up the call and desperately ask, "Sir? Is that you?" Wow, I sound so immature. So unprofessional Emara. I mentally scold myself.

"Eion aye mizoow yo haf noie dya wah ey di dah" A man's baby voice comes through the phone. Is that... Hotty??

But his voice is not hot.

I wonder what language he is speaking. Is it Hebrew? Or ancient Egyptian or Chinese? He sounds like he is chanting some dark magic mantra while performing some voodoo-hoodoo sacrificial ceremony. "Sir, are you alright? What are you saying?"

"Lizon kat-ful-lily..." He again chants but then halts, I hear him gulping down something. Is he drinking? Is he at the bar? "Fa wah eyyem boeing touché."

I look at the clock, there are still a few minutes remaining to strike seven. "Sir, where are you? Are you still in the office?" I ask him as there is no way he left for a bar and got drunk so early, but in return, he says, "Aywoo dalow tuheya yovo ice bufonaav lizon mipilizz." This fucker is hella drunk.

I look for my pants and a shirt from the pile of clothes. I tie the bandage around my breast while I hear him speak sloppily, "Eyyem awar woof eion aa woof aah den jus woof. Ah dady furr all woof. Eeya haf keall mazy popil ah avil keall mazymo." What the fuck? Woof woof?

"Ryan I have no idea what you are speaking." He didn't even let me complete as he continue ranting, "Eion lizon avy war woof gessa sowmaye aza giff" I pick a white shirt and grey pants and start to wear them as I hear him, "Amma giff isseya yo amma sowmay eion. Yo amma maye."

"I am coming to pick you up." I tell him but he doesn't even listen to me as he continues to murmur something that I couldn't even hear. I lock my apartment and climb down the stairs but I get petrified when I hear him scream,

"AAYFUUC INGG HAYTE PREEDAA."

I freak out, what is happening to him? He is starting to scare me, I don't want him to hurt himself or turn into a maniac.

Gay or not I still like him as once my friend Ana had told me, 'If they don't get drunk and call you, you are not the one.'

Now does it mean that I am the one?