When We Dance

Eventually, he fishes it out of his pocket and answers the call.

“Can I call you back?” he says, his eyes holding mine.

I can’t tell if he talks to a man or a woman when the person at the other end of the line says something in response.

“What time do you go to sleep?”

His interlocutor provides the answer.

“Okay. I’ll call you later, then.”

He smiles.

“Yes, something like that,” he adds, grinning.

What was that? Have they asked him if he couldn’t talk because he was with someone?

Yes. Most likely.

He puts his phone back into his pocket.

“So…” he starts, calm and composed, a knowing smile spreading across his lips. “You said we should get used to your emotions. Men have emotions too,” he says.

I search his eyes.

“Are you mocking me now?” I ask incredulously.

“No.”

“It sounds like a payoff.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t know their emotions. How am I supposed to know them?”

“You shouldn’t… care?” he says, still grinning.

He got me.

I wag my finger at him.

“Haha… Very funny. I don’t care. It’s just that…”

He listens with increased interest, waiting for me to fall into his trap.

“I’m not lost. I’m fine. They can do whatever they want. The same goes for you.”

I just realized he didn’t want to help me. His words were pure bait. He wanted to know how I’d react.

Now he knows.

And I’m ready to go back to the hotel. I can’t wait to take a bath and relax with a glass of wine next to me.

My new attitude shows, prompting a change in his expression.

“The woman you saw me with is married to the man at the bar,” he says emotionlessly. “She’s always been married, and she always looked for a way out.”

Somehow, I’m not surprised.