I spent the entire afternoon pretending to focus on work, but my brain was absolutely useless.
Every email?Unread.
Every meeting?Background noise.
All I could think about was her.Jayjay.Seven o'clock.Her saying yes.
I actually changed outfits twice.Yeah. Me — Keifer Watson — the guy who never cared what anyone thought.
I picked the nicest ice cream place in the city.Yeah, ice cream.Not a restaurant, not a rooftop bar — ice cream. Because that's what she liked. That's what made her smile without thinking.
The place was all glass walls, soft lights, marble tables — too fancy for what we were, but I didn't care. I took the corner table, the one with the view. Ordered water just to give the waiter a reason to stop staring at me.
I kept looking at the door.
6:58.She'd walk in any minute.
7:00.Nothing.
7:05.Maybe she was choosing an outfit. She always overthinks clothes.
7:10.I texted her.
"I'm here."
7:15.I ordered her favorite — strawberry swirl with white chocolate flakes — just to surprise her. It melted slowly under the light.
7:20.I checked my phone again and again, pretending I wasn't doing it.
7:25.A couple sat at a table next to mine, whispering and looking at me like I'd been stood up.
My jaw tightened.
7:30.The ice cream had become soft, losing its shape.
Still no Jayjay.
And that's when the irritation started creeping up — slow at first, then burning hotter.
I gave her my time.I opened myself up.I asked her out so we could fix things.
And she doesn't even show up?
I clenched my fists under the table.
"I should've picked her up," I muttered. "Why did I let her go there alone? She always—"
She always disappears.She always finds a reason to run.She always leaves.
The waiter walked over again, offering an awkward smile.
"Sir, do you wanna order—"
"No."It came out sharper than I meant. He backed off.
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing inside my mind.
7:40.
I called her.
No answer.
My heart dropped a little — but pride pushed it back up.
"She really doesn't care," I whispered. "I should've known."
"This is exactly why I shouldn't've bothered," I muttered, grabbing my jacket. "I should've known better."
But even as I walked out, pushing through the glass door, the anger didn't feel clean. It didn't feel satisfying.
It felt heavy.Confusing.Like I wasn't just mad at her… but at myself for thinking she'd show up.
For expecting her to choose me back.