Work Me Up

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I’d planned to wait until the end of the day, but I only make it until a little after lunchtime before picking up the phone to dial her number.

She answers on the fifth ring, just when I’m about to give it up as a lost cause and assume it’s heading to voicemail. “Hello?”

She sounds a little groggy, like maybe she was asleep. Which makes me feel guilty, until I remember that it’s almost 2 in the afternoon. No way she’s still in bed now.

Of course, that thought immediately brings mental images of Selena sprawled across a bed to mind, wearing nothing but that lacy little number she wore on her first day in the garage… Or maybe just nothing at all. I clench a fist to try and stop the sudden flow of blood south, because I can already feel my dick starting to tighten against the seam of my jeans, and that’s the last thing I need right now.

“Selena?” I ask.

“Antonio?” She lets out a huffy little sigh that reminds me all too much of the other times she’s made those soft sighing noises around me.

“You realize nobody calls anyone anymore, right?” she says, sounding a little more like herself again now. “I didn’t even realize my phone had a ringtone until just now.”

I smirk. “What can I say? I’m old school. I believe in calling the girl you want to check up on, when she doesn’t show up for her shift at work.”

“I’m sorry, do you miss me or just the greasy dirty work you wanted my hands doing today?”

“That’s a trick question, right? Because I remember how well you use those hands of yours, believe me,” I say, and I can hear her take another quiet breath on the other end, like the double meaning hadn’t even occurred to her. I laugh, and she groans into the phone.

“You’ve got a dirty mind, Antonio.”

“And you’ve got a dirtier mouth, Selena. We make a perfect match.”

She laughs, but she doesn’t disagree, I notice. After a breath, though, she sighs. “Did you need something, besides guilting me about neglecting my duties?”

“I needed to make sure you were all right. After that stunt yesterday, and then you not showing up this morning… I had to make sure everything was okay with you.”

There’s an even longer pause this time. “Yeah. Sorry,” she finally replies.

I stroll over to the bench on the far side of the garage and drop onto it, pressing the phone closer to my ear so I can hear her. “So… is everything all right, or…?”

“I’m fine,” she says. Her voice sounds tighter now. More restrained. “Sorry that I didn’t come in today. I should have texted or something to let you know not to expect me. I’m just… not feeling well.”

“Is this about what happened between us yesterday?” I can’t help asking. “Because if you’re regretting that—”

“What? No. Of course not,” she says, so fast and unquestioningly that I know she’s telling the truth. “I’m just sick today, Antonio. That’s all.”

Sick. The day after she had what looked like a borderline panic attack in the driver’s seat of my car, right before she sprinted out of the garage. Sure.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Thank you, but… no.”

Another pause. This one feels weighted. I can hear her breathing on the other end of the receiver, just as I’m sure she can hear my own. Like both of us are waiting for the other one to break first, to say something, anything. Finally, I run a hand through my hair. “Well… I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, Antonio, I. It’s…” I wait, expecting her to add more to that sentence. To explain what’s actually going on here, because I feel truly clueless. And that’s not a feeling I’m used to. I’m the guy who solves puzzles. Who figures out what’s wrong with the mechanics of a situation.

I don’t like feeling this way. Helpless. In the dark.

“I’ll text you in the morning and let you know if I’m feeling better. Does that work?” Selena finally says.

“Sure. Feel better, okay?” I say. Then I disconnect the phone, before she can drag this out any further. I’m not getting answers out of her like this. She won’t talk to me over the phone. Not without more persuasion. But I just know that if I look her in the face, I’ll be able to get the truth out of her.

Which is what gives me the idea. It’s probably a bad plan. A stupid, insane one, in fact, but it’s the only way I can think of to get some answers as to what’s actually going on with Selena. What caused her breakdown yesterday, and what I can actually do to fix this situation going forward. Because I’m pretty sure just ignoring it and pretending that I believe she’s home sick today is not going to do the trick.