Ortega 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.
"Don't be like that," she rasped. "Bron and me… it's—the whole thing is complicated, okay? Just come inside, please."
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. 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, is 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.
***
Home came a few minutes later. Ortega's door closed behind him. Off went his shoes. He fell on his bed, warm sun rays peeking in from the window. 'Twas evening, but the day still seemed young.
For moments, he lay there staring, blinking, then held his breath as it occurred to him. He was yet to collect his pay for today.
Ortega rolled to his side and covered his face. Shit. Should he go back? Why does this shit always happen? He beat his mattress severally in frustration. Ground his teeth at how easy it was to blame Mae for distracting him. Hated that he was now thinking of her.
He sat up on the edge of his bed and clawed at his hair. What the fuck is wrong with me?
His fists clenched and he exhaled.
Why can't I stop thinking about her? He asked his bandaged hands. Left with no choice, he stood up and paced his room. He needed a distraction. Even though right now he should be resting.
His fingers coiled tightly round his window bars, his face granite behind them. He pulled away and sighed, looking at his door.
The lull had totally diminished, and a headache flared in place. 'Twas a good thing Mae didn't know where he lived.
The sun came down in a slow sensation. Night was fast approaching, and he stopped bothering about going back to collect his pay.
He lay back on his bed now, his head empty.
{Forty-five minutes left to claim daily pay or else all progress will be lost.}
Ortega sat up like a bucket of cold water had splashed over him. The damn system did not care about his feelings. He began wishing the screen was actual glass so he could punch and shatter it. He hissed at the throb behind his knuckles when he made a fist.
He dismissed the interface. No way he was going back. He lay on the bed as minutes passed. Sheets ruffled as he turned and twisted. Whenever his lids got heavy, his heart rate would spike, causing sleep to mercilessly evade. The irony of the loop was the more he forced sleep, the more awake he felt.
He growled, sat up, and popped a painkiller. How much time do I have left? The interface twitched before him;
{Fifteen minutes left to claim daily pay or else all progress will be lost.}
Ortega shuffled to his feet and swiftly made out of his apartment. Just as his door closed behind him, his landlord opened his. He literally flew down the stairs and broke into a sprint outside, wearing his shirt as he ran.
At the door of the store, he didn't stop to catch his breath. He pushed it open and met silence.
"Mae?" he called.
Nobody answered and Ortega frowned; the emptiness was starting to get eerie.
"Mae, where are you? It's me…Ortega," The echoes of his voice replied him. His steps were careful as he made his way around the counter to the backroom. The store was just as he'd left it. Nothing had changed. He swept aside the beaded curtain and whispered,
"Mae?"
There she was. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Already looking at him before he came in. Ortega hissed,
"You're here. Why didn't you answer when I called?"
His tone came out harsher than intended. The corner of his lips twitched, however, when he saw the smile playing across her face. She glistened in the dimly lit space and Ortega found himself torn between two extremes. Anger and relief. She had him so fucking worried. Was this her way of luring him in here? Did she want to fuck him that bad? Was that why she was smiling?
He leaned against the wall and crossed his legs. Her scent filled the air and he pocketed a fist to hide his arousal and swallowed.
Anytime now...
But she didn't call him over like he expected, and she also didn't tell him to leave. Ortega's eyes narrowed. His mouth opened and closed.
Mae's smile was gone in a flash.
"What are you doing here?"
"Don't act like you don't know what you're doing," he ground out. "I want my pay."
Her laugh was humorless, but she dug into her purse nonetheless and counted his money. Before Ortega could take a step forward, she had already flung the stack of cash at him. It scattered about like green confetti.
Ortega's face darkened.
Am I supposed to pick that up?
But time was diminishing so he crouched and picked the note closest to him, then walked around the room and picked up the rest, nearing her bed.
He stood straight now, frowning. The familiar ching of quest completion was yet to ring in his head. Ortega clicked his tongue, understanding why.
He missed a note.
Mae reached into her purse once more and drew out a crisp dollar. She held it out to him between her index and middle finger. Then looked at him and gestured him to collect.
Ortega's hand raised.
Before his fingers could touch the money, however, she released.
The note danced in the air as it fell.
{Ding!}
No—
{Quest failed.}
{…allocating punishment…}
Ortega couldn't focus on the text. Mae's hands were resting by her sides.
On her face was a daring smirk as she nudged down to the dollar resting on her foot.