Ortega sighed. Watching her leave.
He didn't know what to make of it.
Of her constant moods and switching.
Ortega didn't call her back.
He remained on the stool, alone in his thoughts.
The clock ticked, and he felt a strange sense of relieved calmness.
He wanted Mae to give him space after all. Now that he was by himself, however, he chewed the inside of his mouth.
The signature of her scent still lingered in the air. His bandaged palms were cool now, but his body remembered. Still hot from the sensation of her.
He propped an elbow on the counter and brought his hand up to rest his face. But upon contact, he flinched.
What the hell was I thinking…
His throat suddenly felt dry, so he helped himself to a bottle of water. Now that the adrenaline and pain and high had all faded, the lull was beginning to kick in.
Couple that with the stress of his whole day and you could say his head was in a nightmare.
Then the curtain rattled.
Mae stepped out and leaned against the wall, her arms crossed.
Her expression was still pissed off.
Ortega wanted to look anywhere else, but he could only see her.
Was she so hell-bent on seducing him?
Her blouse was skin tight. She'd taken off her jacket because of the heat, and now, as she stood with her arms crossed, they pushed up her bountiful bosom, making his little brother perk up in excitement.
Ortega willed himself, but alas, he was devoid of the willpower to look away.
Mae forgot the words she wanted to say. Her fingers began to tap the back of her arm where she hugged herself. She found herself shifting, eyes roaming about the room.
The heat of his stare rolled off her skin. She could feel his eyes drinking her in, climbing up her body, worshipping her.
Her breathing grew laboured.
"You should rest," she said.
That had Ortega snap up to meet her face.
Flushed. Puffy eyes.
She sniffed, her face tilted to one side, giving him a glorious view of her soft jaw.
His heart skipped a beat, suddenly ashamed that he'd been too busy looking at her body to notice her mood.
Now. Now he could see it clearly, as she nodded toward the back room.
Ortega sat there still.
"Get inside." Her voice came out breathless, devoid of the authority she tried to muster.
Ortega clicked his tongue.
He was sleepy, yes, but she didn't have to cater to his every need. Who did she think she was? His mother? This was his responsibility. This shit… he did to himself. And besides, even though he'd been there once… intimate with her, it was still her space.
Moreover—
"Are you deaf?"
The words vibrated, harsh and hot. They had the intended effect.
Ortega looked at her face, her ticking jaw.
When she finally met his stare, he said, "And what would Bron say about that?"
Her face twitched.
"I can handle my brother."
Ortega's jaw locked tight.
Exactly. He knows where you live.
He treats you better than I ever did.
I don't know… are you using me?
Ortega swallowed. The lump in his throat still didn't go away. He clenched his fists despite the pain.
Fuck.
He looked away.
Hot tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
Fuck. Don't cry. Don't do that shit.
Not right now. Not over her. Not because of him.
"Don't be like that," she rasped. "Bron and me… it's—the whole thing is complicated. Just come inside, please."
This was hard. What he was about to do. A teardrop blotched his bandaged hand. Why the fuck am I so emotional? He clenched his fists. Ortega couldn't help but bow and shake his head.
"You're that scared of him?"
Ortega's breath hitched, and it took all his willpower not to meet her gaze.
I'm scared of no one. I just don't want you to see me like this. Ortega could feel it at the back of his head like a bee sting. If he showed too much now, felt too much, she'd dismiss him. She'd laugh and say he wasn't man enough. He gritted his teeth.
Mae shuddered at his stillness.
"Ortega, please look at me."
A shadow ran across his face. This is what they tell you when they want to manipulate you. Women. They don't care about your trauma. They want you soft so they can mold you how they like, till you're weak and lost in excess. If she wants you to rest, then why the fuck is she inviting you to her bedroom? So you can get her pregnant. Then she'll tie you down, and you'll never go far. You'll be a wreck, just like him.
He flinched at the warmth of her touch upon his shoulder, then smacked it away like it was magma.
Mae gasped, holding her hand and looking at him in shock.
"Ortega, it's everyth—"
"Shut up." He murmured darkly and stood up slowly. Mae took a step back.
"You don't know me." He said, more to himself than to her. His chest heaved slightly. "You don't know me." He repeated.
Mae rubbed her arms as a strange chill lanced through her.
By the time Ortega got himself, he was the only one standing in the store. He blinked, catching the dying rattle of the swaying beads. He was alone, like he wished.
He darkened. Pivoted and left the store. His irritation only swelled with each step.
Bitch, it should be me walking out on you.