on wasting time

For one split second she almost turned around, but that would be like pouring rain drops back into a cloud, so she took another step and said, I see the way out, and i'm gonna take it. - Carrie Underwood (Wasted)
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It hits me while I sit there, counting my money, wondering where he is.

Does he even care about me?

I'm his replacement for a girlfriend at work without the perks.

I do all the work, he comes over, smiles, and everything is okay again.

Not this time.

I feel the hands on my shoulders before he speaks-

Good job tonight.

We're not talking.

I say the words with a bit of spite, and wonder if it's because i'm really all that terribly angry or because another girl is not far away clearly listening, and I don't want to be considered weak.

I'm sorry you got done so early-

He doesn't sound sorry, and even though the back massage feels nice, I don't cave to turn and look at his face.

I'm sorry you have such a hard time talking to people.

I let the words pour out and I stand up, brushing past him, avoiding looking him in the eyes.

He doesn't follow,

and that's what bugs me the most.

It isn't that I'm mad he didn't help-

I'm mad he doesn't care enough to talk to me when i'm upset with him, twisted logic.

But it's mine.

I wait- and to no avail.

That's when I get it: I'm nothing to him.

It hurts, and I try to consider if I think it's true.

I decide to make peace, and when we're about to leave, I ask him-

should I go out tonight?

He doesn't even turn to look at me-

I'm sure you will.

The doubt melts away and is replaced with anger, as I give him a critical eye.

What's that supposed to mean?

He shrugs,

just that you'll probably go out.

He holds the door open for me, and I flounce past him, hurrying to my car.

So you're going then?

No.

I say the words shortly, giving him a wounded look.

Then where are you off to in such a hurry?

He sounds amused, only angering me more.

I'm going home.

I want to smack him, but I refrain as I turn the key in the lock of my door.

Sure you are.

I sigh in frustration, turning to face him as I swing the door open.

You know what, sometimes you're a very mean person.

He gives me a shocked look, only making me more upset, and I slam my door, rev the engine, and peel out of the parking lot.

How could I let him break my heart all over again?