I turned, my peppermint mocha and cinnamon swirl in hand. In front of me stood a petite lady with long hair and big curls, wearing a pencil-cut skirt and a red blouse. She was all made up, her lips in plump red. She had a look of pure anger on her face, and I wonder what I did wrong to this woman when I don’t remember having seen her ever.
And then she slapped me—hard.
I nearly dropped my coffee and pastry at the impact of her slap. I could feel my cheek burning, and it doesn’t really help that it is lunch time, so there were a lot of people at the street, hanging out at the bottom of the building, who are buying lunch, going back from their lunches, or smoking.
“Stop texting my boyfriend. Stop flirting with him. Don’t you get it that he has a girlfriend?” she said angrily. I am not texting or flirting with anyone who has a girlfriend. I should know how that one feels, having been a victim of cheating by my former boyfriend.
I was about to open my mouth to defend myself when I was stopped by a breathless guy who looked so darn familiar.
The tall, round-eyed, dimpled guy who my officemates and I were crushing on was the one who was grabbing this woman who slapped me. “What are you doing?” he asked her, and she flashed him a glare. “I am putting your other woman in her proper place,” the woman that the guy called Kristine snapped.
The crowd was starting to gather around us, watching with curious eyes the scandal unfolding in front of their eyes. “Other woman?” I said, feeling irritated all of a sudden. I fished my phone in my pocket and handed it to her. “Look, if I really am texting your boyfriend as you claim, enter your BF’s digits in my phone and see if the caller ID indicates him,” I told her, and she frowned. She took my phone and entered his digits.
“Kristine, stop this, okay?” the guy said, and she shook her head. When she pressed call, no name registered. The number was unlisted.
“Take his phone,” I told Kristine, and she did, thrusting her hand inside his pocket and taking out a phone that is of a similar model to mine. She scrolled and after that looked up at me. “You are not her,” she said, and I nodded. “I guess next time you slap someone, please confirm if your boyfriend lied to you more than once—first by telling you that I’m just a nagging chick who’s flirting with him because I assure you, I don’t know your boyfriend and haven’t even met him up until now, and second, by pointing you to the wrong woman,” I said. I took my phone from her and pushed past her to enter the building. I saw some of the people shaking their heads as Kristine hit her boyfriend hard on his chest, cursing him.
I lagged behind just long enough to hear her say, “It’s over. We’re over.”