Chapter 25: XI. Cold-3

Great, now I'm a double texter. Still no dots. No reply. I checked the time and saw it had only just ticked past eight. He was probably still asleep. No need to freak out, Sara. I shook it off, put my phone in the pocket of my sweats and slipped into my robe. I then trudged downstairs and was greeted by the comforting scent of bacon. Mom was cooking breakfast. She never cooked breakfast. She had cooked a hell of a lot more than that. As I came over to the counter I could see that she had been to the market. She had bought all kinds of fresh fruit, yoghurt, she had made oatmeal and pancakes, and was in the midst of frying eggs and bacon. "Wow, Mom, what's all this?" I remarked. Mom was fully dressed, perfect makeup applied, and not a hair out of place. She smiled warmly at me. "Morning, hon," she chirped. Wow, she was in a good mood. Maybe it was a good time to ask about dinner tonight. "Just thought I'd commemorate our first week in our new home by breaking in the kitchen." "You hardly broke in the old kitchen and we lived there for twelve years," I jested. Mom laughed. "Just trying some new things. I'm in a good mood today." Oh my God, she was humming. She really was in a good mood. "So, what movie did you want to see today? Is there anything out that you'd like to see?" I really didn't know what was out. The last month of my life had centred around moving and the last week had been pretty consumed with all things Shea. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly noticed I still didn't have a reply from Shea. I brushed it aside and pulled up the website for the local theatre. While we ate breakfast, Mom and I discussed the three options the local theatre had for us and decided on the action comedy. Neither one of us liked horror movies and Mom didn't like sad movies so the romantic drama was out. These pancakes were the fluffiest I had ever eaten. Mom quickly confessed she had bought those from Sally's, but she had managed to fry the eggs herself. After breakfast I checked my phone frequently as I helped her to clean up the kitchen. "Expecting a call, hon?" she asked me. "It's Shea," I replied truthfully. "He usually replies to me straight away but he hasn't yet. I don't know. He could still be sleeping." My phone told me it was approaching nine-thirty. "Boys, you can't rely on them," she said flippantly. Just as I was about to tell her Shea wasn't the type to just blow me off, she clapped her hands and said, "Come on, let's get ready. I'll tell you what, we'll drive into Newtown and go to the salon there. It's so pretty, I've thought so each time I've driven past it this week. We'll get blowouts and then go to the theatre there." Mom practically ran up the stairs like an excited child. What had gotten into her this morning? I decided against testing my mom's mood until I heard from Shea. By the time I'd showered, dressed, and had time to dig around in my boxes for my makeup bag, he still hadn't messaged me back. I didn't want to be worried, but this was unusual for Shea. He had told me last night that he had some family drama, but I still didn't really know the details. I decided to text Cece. She could at least tell me he was still passed out in his room and hadn't had a chance to text me back. Hey Cece, just wondering if you've heard from Shea this morning? He isn't replying to my messages and I'm a bit worried. Let me know. I added a couple of smiley face emojis to my text so I didn't sound completely like a stalker girlfriend and then shoved my phone in my jeans pocket. I found Mom waiting for me on the landing, a bright smile still plastered on her face. "Ready to go, hon?" she asked excitedly. I nodded. I placed my hand on my back pocket just to double check I still had it and couldn't wait to feel it vibrate with a text message. Not knowing was freaking me out. We both grabbed our purses and Mom grabbed her car keys and we both settled into her Mercedes. The engine purred to life and she switched the radio station over to a chipper pop song. Mom sang along to the radio as we drove through town. I couldn't help but practically press my nose against the glass as I looked for Shea or Cece or anyone I recognised who could tell me that Shea was okay. It was only now occurring to me that I didn't have his address. I couldn't drive to his house and see him. I shuffled awkwardly in my seat as I pulled my phone out from my back pocket. I checked my reception and even sent my mom a smiley face emoji just so I could check that my phone was actually sending my messages. My text flashed up on the touch screen in her car, and she smiled. "You're cute," she commented. But neither Shea nor Cece had replied. I was just about to message Zoey on Facebook when Mom pulled into a parking spot outside a fancy looking salon. I hadn't noticed that we were no longer in Providence and that we were now in Newtown. Mom was right. This salon was nice. It was all white, with a fancy, calligraphy sign on the window offering services for ladies. We climbed out of the car and walked inside and were immediately greeted by a friendly receptionist. The salon looked a bit like a hotel. The white tile on the floor was reflective, and the chairs looked to be all white leather. The mirrors were gilded with silver, and there was a selection of gossip magazines on the tables before each station. The only thing that ruined the ambience was the scent of acetone in the air from the manicurist who was working at the back of the salon, although the receptionist had tried to cover the smell by burning a vanilla candle at her desk. "Good morning," she greeted kindly. "Do you have an appointment?" She looked like she belonged into this environment. Her blonde hair was coloured, toned, and highlighted to perfection, and her makeup made her look like she was a fifties pin-up girl. I wished I had the talent to line my lips like hers. I didn't know if you'd need an appointment here. It wasn't that busy. "No," replied my Mom, "but my daughter and I were after a blowout if you have the space?" "Your daughter?" repeated the receptionist in disbelief. "Oh, my, I could have sworn you were sisters." She wasn't sucking up. We got that a lot. Mom took care of her skin. Having me super young also helped. Mom laughed lightly, and politely. "You're too kind." The receptionist led us over to two empty chairs, and allowed us to put our purses down, before taking Mom over to the basin first to wash her hair. I sat down in the comfortable chair and stared at my phone for what felt like the hundredth time this morning. A few minutes later, the receptionist returned with a cup of coffee for me. I looked up at her and smiled. But she frowned. "Boy troubles?" she guessed. I nearly scoffed. "How did you know?" "You have that look. We've all had it before," she said knowingly. I spied my mom with the stylist. Her hair was still being pre-rinsed, and she couldn't possibly hear me over the spray of the water. "It's my boyfriend," I admitted to the receptionist. I now wished I knew her name. I then realised that was the first time I had ever referred to Shea as my boyfriend out loud. "We had this really special moment last night, and we were texting back and forth after, but this morning I've heard nothing. He usually replies to me straight away." I sighed. "I'm this close to messaging his ex-girlfriend just to see if she knows anything." "Oh, honey, don't do that," the receptionist gasped. "Boys don't over-analyse things like we do. They reply to a text three hours after they received it and don't give it a second thought. Meanwhile, we're spending those hours stressing that they're not interested anymore." I mean, I was certainly over-analysing. But I didn't think that he wasn't interested anymore. I mean, he was interested! I couldn't doubt that. She could see the stress and confusion on my face and smiled at me comfortingly. "I once had a boyfriend who would make me feel all sorts of butterflies, and then would suck with the communication. Like because we had talked in person, the texting didn't matter. We would make verbal plans, and he didn't get why I would text him to confirm or anything like that. So I sat him down, and I told him that if he left me on read one more time then he could forget about seeing my nice underwear again." She winked and I blushed. "When did you guys break up?" I wondered. "We didn't," she replied. "I married the idiot." She held out her left hand and showed me her twinkling wedding ring on her perfectly manicured finger. I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but I couldn't help but know that Shea wasn't like that. All this week he had been replying to me instantly. And then nothing today? It just didn't make sense. To not even have a reply from Cece was really worrying me. "Thanks," I said gratefully. Even if her situation couldn't help me, I appreciated the effort. At that moment, another customer entered the salon and she left to serve them. I decided to call him. Screw it. I tapped on his number and it started to ring. And ring. And ring. Eventually, I heard an automated voicemail box. I hung up before leaving a message. Hell, I was already a double texter, I might as well be a double caller as well. I called again, but this time the call didn't ring out. The call ended after two rings. I pulled the phone away from my ear in shock. Oh my God, did he just reject my call? Shea was awake alright. He was awake, and he'd rejected my call. He didn't want to speak to me. That stung. The really freaking hurt, way more than I expected. What possible explanation could he have for kissing me last night, flirting with me the way he did, making me feel all sorts of things, and say all sorts of things, and then just ignore me today? Where the hell did he get off? My brain involuntarily took me back to a conversation I had had with Cece this week. The part specifically where she told me that she and Jamie had only lasted three hours before having sex. I mean, I know Shea told me that it didn't matter to him, but what if …? I shook away the thought. No, I had to think better of him than that. By that time, another stylist had come to collect me and she took me over to the basin. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and tried to forget about Shea while my hair was washed.