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Finally, frustrated and at my wits’ end, I decide to meet him halfway. I’ll send a text. I figure it’s not as pushy as a phone call and will serve as a gentle reminder of my existence. With a churning stomach, I grab my phone and punch out a message:Hey, Nick, just wanted 2 say thanks again for a lovely time last night. Hope u got home safely. Carly xx
Once I’ve pressed ‘Send’, I throw down the phone and sit rigidly on my bed, wondering if I’ve done the right thing.
This is getting interminable.
I wait five minutes.
Ten.
When there’s still no response from him, I stumble to the mirrored wardrobe and gaze into the deep caverns of my eyes. “Oh, Nick, what the hell are you doing to me?”
CHAPTER SIX
Waiting Game
“How long would you wait to call a girl after a date?” I ask Mark at work the next day.
“Let me guess. This is about your rendezvous with Lover Boy?”
“Bingo.”
He scratches his chin. “That’s a tricky one. If it was me, I guess I’d probably wait about three days before calling.”
“Three days!” I almost spit out my coffee. “Why so long?”
“Men like to play it cool. ‘Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen’, as they say. Phone a woman too soon after a date, and you’ll come across as desperate. And no bloke likes to appear desperate. Leave ‘em begging for more, that’s what seems to work best.”
“But we had such a good time,” I bleat. “He knows how much I like him, so why must he play games with me?”
Mark shrugs. “Search me; it’s just something men do. Look at it this way: either he’s playing it cool, or he doesn’t like you that much. But for the life of me, I can’t see why. The guy would have to be crazy not to want to see you again.”
I smile shyly. “Aw, that’s sweet of you to say.”
“Well, it’s the truth. If I were only twenty years younger …”
“Ssh, stop embarrassing me,” I giggle. For a moment, we sip our coffees, each lost in our private thoughts. Then an idea hits me. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?”
“Why?”
“I want to phone his number, just to see if he picks up. I can’t use mine because he’ll see my name on the caller ID.”
“Carly, this is getting silly. You’re behaving like a soppy teenager.”
“Please, Mark, do this for me. I only want to make sure he’s okay. What if he’s had an accident or something?”
“Trust me. He’s okay. Like I said, he’s probably just playing hard to get.”
“Yes, but I need to know for sure. It won’t stop bugging me till I do.”
Rolling his eyes, Mark reluctantly passes me his phone and I copy Nick’s number into his Contacts Directory.
“It’s ringing,” I say excitedly.
“Whoop de do.”
Pacing up and down reception, I clamp the phone to my ear with a grim expression. It rings for a couple of seconds, and then the call cuts off. Frustrated, I dial again, but once more the same thing happens. A cold deadness sweeps through me. Does this confirm that something badhashappened to Nick?
“He’s not picking up,” I say, handing Mark back his phone.
