...with 5 inch heels

I was having a difficult time at the mall deciding between three pairs of shoes when my phone started to ring.
I don't know about other people, but I'm a little self-conscious about my ringtone... well, my ringtone for certain people.
I've already talked about this, since that whole "Miss Murder" argument went down.
Anyway, point is, "I know you want me" came on my phone and I turned into a clumsy moron trying to get it out of my pocket to shut it up.
Fuckin' Pacemaker... quit calling me! I'm in the middle of something!
But it was a guy's voice on the other end.
Hey. How are you?
Me: Hey. What's up? (internally) No. No. No! What are you doing?!
MGH: Oh shit, I'm sorry, are you working?
Me: No. I'm shopping.
MGH: For Chicago?
Me: Yup.

He kept asking questions. I kept it curt.
I dropped a pair of shoes and proceeded to the counter.

MGH: What's wrong?
Me: Nothing. Why?
MGH: You're weird right now.
Me: Me? Hm. Well, I am shopping. (internally) And I do kind of still hate you.
MGH: I'm going to call you later... when... you're not shopping. We still need to talk.
Me: Alright. Later.

And that's why I stared at my cellphone all afternoon... and night.
No call, just texts.
AND I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT HE WANTS!
Of course, I could end all of this and just get to the point,
Look, dude, what the fuck do you want from me? My heart can't take this shit.
But it physically hurts to cross a word with him.

My tone was low... like I was scared... and I stopped moving altogether once I heard his voice.
Then, I caught myself looking over my shoulder as if I was doing something illegal and I was looking for cops. Once I noticed my sister was near me, I began to nearly whisper.
Then I dropped my favorite pair of shoes from the three I was holding and I didn't care about getting them back... the hottest pair of pink leather/suede combo heels... "AnoMALIE heels," how Chase would probably refer to them.

I don't know what upset me more: hearing his voice once again and realizing I still miss him with all of my heart, or the fact that hearing his voice messed me up so bad that I rejected the best pair of heels I've ever laid eyes on.
Jerk.