The Big O (The Virgin Diaries) (4 page)

I place the white cloth napkin in front of my mouth to mask the coughs and coax the pasta to go down. My stomach cramps up, knowing it should expel whatever has me choking so badly.

I hear Scout’s voice. “She’ll never be a swallower that girl, but seriously lay off Connor. I think you’re making her uncomfortable.”

And now I wish I was dead and six feet under. My best friend sticking up for me because I’m too big of wuss to do so. Connor nods and then I catch his gaze go to the other side of the restaurant, where’s it been most of the night. Maybe he’s eyeing his next catch. I mean, Scout had said he’d been busy fucking the countryside.

Why can’t I just let him give me my first O and then shut the door on the topic? I know why; because I believe in love and see it on my parents’ mantle in their wedding picture every time I’m at their house. My dad beaming proud and my mom with big doey eyes that look like she’s afraid for her life. They grew together, the pictures morphed into happiness, love and joy. That’s what I want and there lies the whole problem, because I live in a pit stop of a fuck and go society.

Connor finishes his meal quickly, still eying the table and miraculously my appetite has disappeared so I make different alphabet combinations with my noodles, dragging my fork slowly through the bowl.

And then like a deadly snake seeking its prey, Connor’s arm is right back around my shoulder and then it all happens so fast. I hear Scout begin to scold him when I turn to Connor to ask him to remove his arm because he’s making me extremely uncomfortable.

But when I turn to him, he seals his lips to mine and begins hoovering the shit out of my lips. The man has more suction than a vacuum.

“You bastard.”

And it’s like magic when the new voice joins us because his lip suction vanishes.

“Reba, nice to see you here,” he says in a cheery voice.

“Found another whore, I see?”

The beautiful blonde with legs for days plants her hands on her hips.

“Have you fucked her best friend yet?”

“Oh Reba, still digging up bones are we? Guess you’re beginning to miss what you left on your wedding day.”

My head swivels back and forth between the two, aligning all the puzzle pieces. It’s his ex-fiancé and that’s why he’d been eyeing that table all night and more than likely a bit too grabby for my taste. I was the asshole’s pawn.

“Well, payback is a bitch. I fucked your best friend, Scott, last week. His new nickname is Seis because I had six orgasms in sixty minutes.”

Their war is clear as day, but what’s a muffle is Scout shouting in the background for them to knock it off. At one point, she’s pawing her way across the table towards the blonde before Taylor drags her back. Her right tit slipped from her extreme V-neck, dipping into her spaghetti sauce.

This has to be one very deranged and fucked up dream right now.

“Your Aunt Georgia was a better lay than you Reba, so carry on.”

I look down to my plate of pasta, lost in a hopeless situation and stare at the “ch” digraph I drew with my fork. It’s the next lesson for my first graders. The letters soon become a blur when Reba picks up the bowl of pasta, hoists behind her shoulder, and aims for Connor. And being the gentlemen he is, he swiftly ducks behind me, using me as his shield against the bowl of fucking pasta.

The letters c and h are now scattered all over my face, hair, and chest. Drops of pasta sauce and noodles snake down my cleavage and eventually drippings even cover my pretty pink toes.

“Fuck you and your pathetic life, Connor.” From the sounds of heels clicking, Reba parades off.

I try to wipe the sauce from my eyes without getting it directly onto my pupil. Scout is attacking Connor as wait staff bring over mounds of cloth napkins.

“Stop,” I sputter out with noodles dangling from my lips. “Just fucking stop.”

I stand to my feet and realize I’m going to have to fucking skate out on my wedges under the sauce.

“This date is over.”

“Olivia, sit down. We will take you home,” Scout protests.

I count to ten in English, Spanish, and German to calm down before speaking and raising both of my hands.

“Goodnight. I’ll catch an Uber home.” I gracefully glide my wedge across the floor in a skating action because if I take a step, I’ll eat shit. “Oh and Connor, you seem like a great guy, but get some damn counseling before you and Reba kill each other.”

I silently thank my mother for enrolling me in ice-skating when I was five because I glide out of that Italian restaurant like a mother-trucking gold medalist. I shred the lace blouse and toss it in the nearest trashcan. But before I toss it, I use it to wipe down my limbs and face. It makes me sad to leave it behind since it was one of the sexiest things I had owned. It just bit the dust in the name of angry lovers.

I’m left in saucy skinny jeans and a tank top with nipples standing to attention in the night air. I perform a skating, walking duo combination that would even make Michelle Kwan proud to get at least a block away from the restaurant and then decide walking four more down to the center of town, knowing more Ubers will be available there. Knowing Scout, she’ll beat Connor’s ass and then come save me, but I just want to be left alone.

I pull my cellphone from my bag and notice the lit up red battery light with the notification of four percent battery life. Well, fuck me running into next Tuesday. I tap the Uber app as fast as possible and wait for it to connect me to a driver. A sigh of relief escapes when it shows at least ten cars surrounding me and only blocks away. I tap the green request button and everything goes black. My phone dies and I go bat shit crazy for a moment.

“You rotten damn asshole.” I throw the phone without thinking into a brick building and watch it shatter into several tiny pieces into a bush. And if that’s not good enough, I begin beating the shit out of the bush with my purse. Using it like an ax and mutilating it to shreds or at least that’s what I feel like I’m doing. And if there were any homeless bums or bystanders standing on the lit up sidewalk, they’ve vanished.

A quick burst of red and blue lights light up the bush I’m currently going to town on and I freeze.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

I’d recognize that rich sexy voice anywhere and now I want to jump into the fucking bush.

I pivot slowly, albeit a bit sexy, to cover up; shit, at this point I have no idea what I’m covering up.

“Hi.” I wave and smile at Officer Oren.

“Olivia, is that you?”

I nod sheepishly while studying my alfredo covered toenails.

“Are you sure you're okay?” His voice is full of genuine concern.

“I’m fine, really; thanks for checking though.” I send a chunk of my matted hair over my shoulder and hear some of the sauce splatter on the ground.

He holds both hands up in surrender. “Now, I’m not judging here or anything, but you were just karate chopping the shit out of that bush with your purse.”

My shoulders slump down and I finally give in. “Blind date gone horribly wrong and my phone just died and I lost my lid.”

“Are you carrying any weapons?” he asks next.

I shake my head side to side. “Just my purse.”

“Okay then, I’ll approach.” He still has his hands up in the air but now a sexy smile spreads across his face.

I can’t help but giggle.

“I must have looked pretty crazy, eh?”

He’s only a foot from me and I can smell his musky cologne. “I almost called back up. I’m not going to lie.”

This statement causes a full out belly laugh.

“And this?” he asks plucking a noodle from my shoulder.

I go to open my mouth, but he stops me before I can explain.

“But wait, if it’s a crime you probably shouldn’t tell me.”

“Funny.” I playfully whack his shoulder and damn, it’s nothing but hard muscle. “You wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

“Try me.” I watch as he bends over, collecting the contents from my purse scattered on the sidewalk. When he leans over the bush, I can’t help but stare at his tight ass as it flexes when he moves.

“Are you staring at my ass?” His voice streams through the bushes.

I choke on my own spit.

“I’m just fooling with you, Olivia.” He stands up with a handful of items, one being my cellphone or what is left of it. “You weren’t joking when you said it was dead.”

“I may have murdered it.”

“I’ll take you home. Get in.”

“Do I have to ride in the back seat or get cuffed?”

“Do you want to be cuffed?” He raises an eyebrow at me and I feel the alfredo sauce heat up on my skin.

Instead of answering him, I crawl in the front seat, being careful not to smear my dinner on his leather seat. The smell of Oren is so strong in the cab I nearly weep.

“
S
o she threw
a bowl of pasta at Connor and him being such a man, hid behind me hence why I’m a walking, talking Italian dish right now.”

“I shouldn’t be laughing, but I can’t believe this really happened.” He smiles as he says it.

“No, you’re going to go to hell laughing at a loser like me.”

“You’re not a loser, Olivia, I’ve seen you in action. Your students adore you and that Connor is a fool.”

“It’s not the first time,” I admit.

“That you’ve had pasta thrown at you?”

“No,” I swat his arm. “I’m not that big of a psycho. I mean a bad date. Actually, I’ve never had a good one.”

“I’m sure your exes would say different.”

“There are no exes.”

He’s stopped at a red light, and looks over to me. “Well then, the world is missing out Olivia Olander. I’ve only been around you a few times and can tell you’re a great person.”

The radio of his car interrupts us. I can’t believe how easy it is to talk to him. I should be mortified with the state I’m in and to be sitting in his car. His voice is hypnotizing as I listen to him report back to the station about his night.

“It’s been pretty quiet. Two speeding tickets and one domestic call. Oh, and I just nabbed the bush beating bandit of the county.”

My eyes instantly grow to the size of golf balls and I send another punch to his arm. He clicks his radio back on the stand.

“Damn, I’m going to have to charge you for battery against an officer too.”

I stop the question before it spills out of me, making the situation incredibly uncomfortable, but I want to ask if that would require cuffing.

“I’m so embarrassed.” I cover my face.

“Don’t be, Olivia, if you only knew some of the things I see on my shifts.” He pauses to sniff the air. “But you are making me hungry.”

My insides melt and pool together. I’d let Officer Sexy eat me anywhere and anytime. It’s like he’s reading the crimson flush racing across my face and my thoughts.

“I mean, your sauce is making me hungry.” He slams his steering wheel with one hand. “Shit, that sounded even worse.”

I can’t help but laugh at the whole damn situation. “Yes, I’m hungry too.”

“Dinner?” he asks.

“But you’re working.”

“If I get a call, then we’ll have to go.”

“My sauce.” I point to my clothes.

“It’s sexy and Italian is my favorite.”

He exits the car and thankfully doesn’t notice me turn the color of a purple beet from his compliment.
He’s just a nice guy, Olivia.
For shit sakes, he’s a community figure just doing his job with possibly a side of flirt.

I jump from the car before he has the chance to open my door.

“This has been my favorite diner since I was a young girl,” I squeal under the bright red lights of Gravy Doug's.

“You’ve been here?” Oren asks in a shocked voice.

“Yeah, been coming here since well, I was in my mother’s womb.” I pause. “Well, that was awkward. But seriously, best place in town.”

“I agree. I love hometown diners like this one.”

“Oh my God, Oren, a chicken fried steak smothered in brown gravy right now sounds sooo good.”

He grabs the old metal door handle to the diner and before he opens it, he says, “It’s nice to see you smile, Olivia.”

The asshole has manners to boot; using compliments combined with his killer looks, I’ll never be able to look at another man the same. I wish he’d just morph into a captain dickhead right now so my wild imagination of me riding off into the sunset with him would diminish.

“Miss Olivia, we haven’t seen you forever.” Dolores, my favorite waitress, scurries over to me, giving me a one-arm hug while balancing a coffee pot in the other.

“Yeah, sorry; spring is hard, wrapping up the school year.”

“How’s your father?”

“Super busy and loving it.”

“Good to hear, dear. Pick a booth and I’ll be right over.”

“Thanks, D.”

I take a couple of steps from our one arm hug and hear Dolores greet Oren and tell him to sit wherever and instead of being an ass and embarrassing her, he just nods.

I sit in the booth and decide to spill it. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, I’m a bit awkward, loyal, own a dog named Pedro, and was raised by my dad since the age of nine.”

The last part nearly rolls off my tongue, but I bite the end of it before I do and taste a smear of blood in my mouth.

“I like it.” He nods, crossing his fingers on the table.

“You like it?” I ask.

“Yeah, I do. It’s simple and honest.”

“I guess.” I push the menu to the edge of the table.

He relaxes back, stretching his arms on the back of the booth. I feel his legs sweep by mine under the table. “What should I order, Miss Olander?”

I blush when he calls me by my last name. “Um, you should get the homemade finger steaks, so I can steal one off your plate and dip it in my gravy.”

“So you want to steal one of my sticks and dip it in your gravy?”

“Ass.” I giggle and burry my face in my hands.

“I’m sorry. It’s too easy to get you, Olivia.”

“Tell Dolores I want the norm. I’m going to go scrape some of this shit off of me.”

“Deal.” He winks as I slide out of the booth.

When I look into the bathroom mirror, I wince in horror and disbelief. I really look like a walking plate of pasta. The brown paper towels in the bathroom are comparable to thirty-six grit sandpaper, but after soaked in warm water, do the trick of wiping away the mess from my skin. I don’t even try to wipe the shit away from my jeans. My tank is mostly clean of debris and then to my hair. I finger comb the dried up sauce and noodles out the best I can, then add some water to my locks and wring it out with a paper towel. It’s better than it was, but still not pretty.

“Dolores said you drink Diet Mountain Dew, so that’s what I ordered.”

“Perfect.” I smile back to Oren. “What do you think of my Extreme Pasta Make-Over?”

I do a twirl before I sit down.

“I do like to eat so I’m a bit sad all the morsels are gone.” He smiles, never breaking his stare.

“What a night!” My elbows plant onto the tabletop and I rest my chin in my cupped hands.

“You are gorgeous, Olivia, and I’m going to leave it at that because I’m on shift right now.”

“Could I use your phone?” I ignore his compliment on the outside, but on the inside I melt a bit more.

Oren doesn’t hesitate as he reaches down into his belt and holds out his phone.

“It’s my personal, so feel free.”

“Just going to text Scout, you know, the ladyboner gal in my room.”

Oren only nods as he sips his black coffee.

“She’s my best friend and Mr. Perfection Pasta was her boyfriend’s cousin.”

“Sisterwives?” he asks.

I stick my tongue out at him as my fingers race across the screen. I keep the message simple and tell her not to reply to this number and that I’ll call when I get home.

I chew the rest of my meal in silence and just enjoy the eye candy before me and like a perfect prince, he lets me dip his stick in my gravy with no question.

His phone chimes halfway through our meal. “I think this is for you.”

He hands me the phone after he’s read the message.

Unknown: OMG Are you getting it on with someone? Just don’t let a homeless bum steal your V card, O.

“Did you happen to read this?” I ask, peeking up at him through my fingers.

“Want me to lie?” he asks smiling a little bit.

I nod yes.

“Then no, I didn’t see it.” Oren shoots me a wicked grin.

“I’m going to stab her with a dull knife,” I say, feeling the heat in my cheeks reach an all time high.

“I’ll pretend that I didn’t just hear your premeditated crime, Olivia.”

“Right, Officer.” I wink at him.

It’s practically Chinese torture when I give Oren my address. He pays the bill like any gentleman, never trying to flirt again as he drives me home.

When we near my townhouse parking lot, I steady my legs for him to kick my ass out of his car, but he remains silent and very heroic.

“Thank you, Oren.” I turn to him with honesty and my complete soul exposed to him. I feel his fingers wrap around my hand and it’s a feeling I’m not use to. It’s completely foreign and I’m not sure how to react, but it’s warm and inviting, unlike the fishy experience earlier tonight.

“Olivia, I’d do and say so much more if I was off shift.” His eyes beam in the moonlight.

I offer up a weak smile and let as many words flow as possible before melting down. “It’s fine.”

The harsh metal of the door slams shut and I walk my way up to my apartment in the lonely night. It’s not until Pedro bounces up and down like a rabid rabbit that I finally exhale. It’s a Friday night for the record books of epic proportion. I fall to my bed and let Pedro lick me clean of Alfredo sauce.

I dial Scout’s number and the bitch doesn’t even wait for a hello!

“Bitch, spill, now!”

“Scout, thank you so much for setting me up with Connor because this has been the best night of my life.”

“Uh?” I hear my best friend’s voice.

“I just experienced the best night of my life covered in sauce.”

“Is this Olivia or a crack whore who beat her in the alley way for her phone? Either way, I’m cool. Oh wait, you’re on your home line.”

“It’s O. I’m home next to Pedro and am on the mission for my O. You’ll die when you hear the rest of the story.”

I rattle on and on, spilling every single detail of the night until I hear Scout’s light snores on the other end of the phone. Sleep never comes.

Dear Diary,

You wouldn’t believe the shit that went down tonight. Pasta in the face and bush whacking on the blind date and it turned out to be the best night of my freakin’ life. Officer Sex On A Stick saved the night and even took me to dinner at Gravy Doug's.

I love me some good gravy and then to top it off with a stiff fingersteak. TOUCHDOWN. More details to come soon, hopefully!

Love, O