That Girl

by H. J. Bellus

  “Why are you so sad?” he asks snapping me back to real time.

  Shrugging, I don’t respond.

  “Knock it off,” he says. “I know what you’re doing. We’re going to make this work.”

  “Just kiss me,” I say.

  Lincoln leans down, meeting my lips. It’s short and sweet.

  “I have to go,” he says, pulling away.

  “I know.”

  We both walk to the door, and I follow him to his truck. I can tell he’s having a hard time leaving me, so I decide to make it easier.

  “Get on with your bad self.” I add a swat to his ass for emphasis.

  He chuckles and finally climbs up into his truck, flashing me a quick wink.

  “I love you,” he says out his window.

  Waving, I watch him back out of the parking lot, and a dreadful tingling takes over my body. The kind of sensation that preempts a panic attack, and I realize I’ve fallen way too hard for Lincoln Wilks.

  He slams his truck into park before hitting the pavement, causing a dust storm to engulf the black vehicle. I hear his door slam, and then see him running toward me with that damn ball cap on backward.

  “What are you doing?” I squeal.

  “I bought this for you. I forgot to give it to you last night. Love you, Oakley.”

  He puts something in my hands and bends down, leaving me with one tender kiss, and then jogs back to his truck with his shorts bouncing up and down. The man is completely adorable.

  He left me with a package wrapped in red paper. With my curiosity peaked, I tear away the shiny paper and hear a little jingle go off before opening the box. Turning to see who is standing behind me, I see no one. I must be hearing things. I try opening the corner of the brown box when I hear the jingle again. Then I hear the song Hanging by a Moment start to play and realize it’s all coming from the box. My hands work faster to tear it open. Lincoln’s face with ball cap on backward and light stubble fills the screen of an iPhone. It takes a few moments before I realize he gave me a phone and is now calling me. With shaky fingers, I slide the bar across to answer it.

  “Hello?” My greeting comes out more as a question from sheer shock.

  “Hey, baby!”

  “Lincoln.”

  “Oakley.”

  I can’t help it, I giggle. “I can’t believe you. You bought me a phone.”

  “I did. I want to call and text my girlfriend. You know, get my full stalker mode on.”

  “I’m speechless,” I say as a couple tears well in my eyes.

  “There are a few more surprises on there for you.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything, and go get your ass ready for work. I’ll be at the diner around 6:30-ish.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye, Oakley Ann.”

  “Bye, Lincoln Wilks.”

  Hanging up, I stare at the lime green phone in my hands, still wondering if all this just really happened. Walking back into my room, I let out a very girly squeal and belly flop onto my bed, burying my nose in the sheets and soaking up Lincoln’s lingering scent. Rolling over onto my back, I slide open the lock screen to start exploring my new phone. It sounds silly, but I’ve never had anything like this, ever. Lincoln has the home screen set to a selfie of us. He’s always snapping pictures of me on his phone, and sometimes he wraps his arm around me and takes one. It’s a picture of us sitting outside on the picnic table eating pizza. He caught me with a slice of cheese pizza entering my mouth.

  I tap on the icon with a music note, and I really squeal. All of his music is there, right down to his playlists. Tears build up and begin to roll down my face when I even see the playlist named Oakley. The phone dings, alerting me to a text, and I know it can only be one person.

  Lincoln: Do you like it?

  It takes me a few seconds to steady myself with all the right keys. Then I realize it’s a real bitch to type, because my fat thumb keeps hitting the wrong damn letters. Feeling like a hippo on skates, I laugh out loud at the learning curve ahead of me. After several minutes I manage to text back.

  Me: No, I love it.

  Lincoln: Did you find your music?

  Me: Yes, first thing.

  Lincoln: The pictures?

  Me: Not yet. I duck at texting.

  I reread my last message and die laughing at the word duck.

  Me: I meant suck.

  Lincoln: You’ll get the hang of it.

  Me: I jopr so.

  Lincoln: LOL… I’ll set up auto-correct for you tonight.

  Me: Shut, that was supposed to be hope.

  Lincoln: LMFAO

  Me: I give ip

  Lincoln: Love you

  Me: Pizza

  Tapping on the picture icon, I see all the selfies Lincoln has taken and the pictures of me he has snapped. He even has shots of the field and him in the locker room. A couple of them are worth drooling over and fanning yourself, because they are downright freaking hot. If I had to guess, he was being a little tease.

  This texting is a real bitch. I've watched Lincoln fire off texts right and left, not blinking an eye. It's a good thing he can't see me try and type out a message. He'd get a real good laugh.

  I turn on his pre-game playlist and rock out while I shower and get ready for work. Today I'm in the coffee shop until four, and then the diner. Jenni is covering in the bakery for a few hours today. I'm sure she'll have to come get the scoop from me. I saw her yesterday at the barbecue. We never spoke because of the different crowds we were running in. She was in full blast glitter mode and definitely stood out.

  She had several players surrounding her and her sparkly group of friends. With any luck, she landed one of the boys. I'm sure I'll soon find out.

  ***

  I check the window again to see if there are picket signs outside. It’s been so dead. Three customers in two hours. Usually, I’m slammed on a Monday. The minutes drag on and on. I’ve cleaned the shack from ceiling to floor. I’ve checked my phone about a hundred times, and no more texts from Lincoln.

  “Hey, girl, hey.” Jenni busts into the shack in her full, shining glory. I wonder how long it takes her to spray all of her makeup on and pick out her perfect outfits. She’s never not put together.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “So?” She questions, sitting down on one of the barstools.

  “So, what?” I counter. I know damn well what she’s digging for. She wants all the details from my first public date with Lincoln.

  “So, how did it go? Are you in love? Are you ready to lay down and have his babies?”

  I can’t help but laugh at her ridiculous questions. The funniest part is the dead serious look covering her face.

  “It was fine,” I lie.

  “Just fine?” she prods.

  “Okay, better than fine,” I concede. “Enough about me, I want to know about you.”

  “I’m in fucking love, Oakley. Like head over heels in love with Ryan. He’s on the team, but mostly second string until next year because he’s only a freshman, but I’m in love. We met last night at the barbecue.”

  “How do you know?” I ask in astonishment at her confession.

  “Know what?”

  “How do you know you’re in love?”

  “He’s amazing and super sweet. He just stole my heart, like in five minutes.”

  I choke on the water going down my throat.

  “Is this the first time you’ve fallen in love?” I ask.

  “Oh, hell no, I’ve loved and lost several men, but Ryan’s different. I can feel it.”

  “Just be careful, Jenni.”

  She’s annoying as hell and can outshine a strobe light with all her glitter, but deep down she’s a very softhearted person who clearly loves big.

  “So, what base did you make it to last night?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “Didn’t even play the bases.”

  Nobody will ever know the moments Lincoln and I shared last night
. I’m not sure they’d even understand the range of emotions we experienced in just a handful of hours.

  “Well, you little prude, I made it all the way home.”

  This time I spit out the water I’m drinking and begin coughing.

  “Holy shit, you had sex,” I declare.

  “Well, no, but what I did I consider home base, baby, and some men even like it better than sex.”

  She has my curiosity peaked, and everything in me is dying to ask questions, but common sense tells me to change the subject swiftly.

  Before I have the chance to sidetrack Jenni, she lets it all fly.

  “I sucked him off in his truck.”

  “Oh my God, Jenni, you what?”

  “Well, it started off as a heated make-out session and my hand accidentally brushed his bulging boner, so I unzipped his pants and went down on him.”

  Trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, and for some odd reason visualizing the two of them, I ask, “Your hand brushed his thingy, so you pulled it out and you know…?”

  “Oakley,” she squeals.

  “What?”

  “You’ve never given head before?”

  I shake my head and feel my cheeks heat up.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks, waving her hands out in front of her.

  “No, I’ve never even had a boyfriend before Lincoln.”

  “Holy shit, were you a nun? My God, no boyfriend and no BJs?”

  “Let’s talk about something else, please.”

  “I want a blended mocha,” she says with a smirk.

  While making her mocha, Jenni tried opening her mouth about ten times to talk about her oral skills, and I stopped her every time. Finally, sitting down and out of distractions to stop her, she hits me with details.

  “I swallowed,” she blurted.

  “Eww, I could’ve done without that.”

  “I could tell he was totally digging my teeth, so I sunk right down on that cock of his, and it exploded in my mouth.”

  Jenni would probably really pass out if I told I’ve never even seen a dick in my life. The expression on her face would be priceless. However, I’m not in the mood to give her a heart attack today.

  “I don’t even know how to respond to that, Jenni,” I say.

  “Well, when giving head, you really need to find out if the guy likes teeth, hard suck, or a sloppy suck. My cousin is a porn star, and I know all the tricks.”

  “Oh my God, enough, right now.”

  I’m not sure what is more embarrassing, knowing Jenni’s sucking techniques, or that she gets sex advice from her porn star cousin. I guess the phrase “I bet she fucks like a porn star” does ring true for some.

  “Okay, okay, but if you ever need any advice when you’re ready to wrestle his anaconda, let me know. Lincoln’s on the top five list of football players every girl want to fuck, so don’t let him go to waste.”

  “I’ll remember that,” I say, trying to shut her up.

  “’Kay, ’kay, I gotta run. I have a class tonight, and then hope to bang Ryan until the sun rises. Oh, and I made an appointment for us at a spa tomorrow. Danielle said you can get off early,” she says, slamming the door before I have a chance to get a word out.

  Well, there’s one thing about that girl, she doesn’t sugarcoat shit. You love her for who she is, and she doesn’t give a fuck or two if you don’t like her. Jenni is Jenni, and she lives her life. I want just one ounce of her attitude to run through my veins to give me that extra confidence.

  Chapter 12

  Double Date at 1,014 Miles

  The diner is packed, and time is flying by. Thank God, because I was ready to start pulling my teeth out at the coffee shop today for entertainment. Once again, the pissy-pants waitress, Trena, whom I always relieve, left as soon as she saw me. She still thinks my name is Jodie after working the shift before me for nearly a month. Every time I relieve her shift, she says, “Good luck, Jodie,” and bolts.

  Her attitude and dealing with customers would make leaving this job easy. The tips, on the other hand, not so easy. Some nights I make in tips what I make in two days at the coffee shop, but I want time with Lincoln.

  Similar thoughts and orders of burgers and chicken strips fill my mind while the hours fly by. Looking up at the clock, I notice it’s six-thirty and only minutes from when I get to see Lincoln. I hope one day this silly lovesick infatuation with the boy simmers down a little.

  I decide to send him a quick text. My heart is a little sad he hasn’t texted me all day, but I know he’s really busy.

  Me: 30 Minutes

  I wait, and no response from him, so I stare at the phone, willing it to beep back at me. Then after checking in on some tables I sneak another peek, and still no response. He’s just busy, he’s busy, I keep telling myself to calm my mind, but every time I almost convince myself, I think about all the times he’s on his phone texting when he’s with me.

  The sound of the door opening and another crowd of patrons entering draws my attention. Monica. Monica is leading a group of people to the largest booth in the restaurant. My eyes immediately scan each person to see if Lincoln is with her. Deep down, I know he wouldn’t be, but my brain always likes to remind me how people have hurt me in the past.

  Then my stomach drops when reality strikes me. I have to wait on her. My phone finally dings as I round the corner to take menus to her table. Sneaking back around the serving bar I take a quick look.

  Lincoln: Hey, cutie pie! I’m on my way. Mind if I ask Tiny & Jewels to tag along?

  Me: no it’s fine

  Mixed emotions swirl around in my head thinking about Lincoln not texting me all day, Monica sitting in a booth glaring at me, and now Lincoln wanting to bring friends along. I love Tiny and Jewels from the little I know about them, but is Lincoln already tired of me, and needs to fill a void? Does he think it would be easier to cut things off if they are here?

  My phone catches my attention again, and I know I should be giving Monica’s table their menus.

  Lincoln: Are you okay?

  I truly don’t know what to answer, so I throw the phone back onto the shelf and head to the booth with menus in hand. Mentally, I berate myself for throwing the phone. I need to be more careful with it.

  “Hi, welcome to Boone’s. Here are some menus. I’ll be back in a sec to grab your drink orders.” I keep it short and sweet and try to get away without making eye contact or any unnecessary conversation with Monica.

  About ten steps away, I hear her voice, “Um, waitress. I thought your name was Oakley. What’s up with Jodie on your shirt?”

  “Um, just waiting on one with my name on it.”

  I hear the ding of the door and know new customers are in the diner, but can’t turn away before she strikes me way below the belt.

  “I had to see this for myself. I’m still in shock that Lincoln Wilks would date a no-name waitress. Unbelievable.”

  Stunned, I turn around to head to another table and see Lincoln holding a huge bouquet of flowers with Tiny and Jewels by his side. And by the look on his face, he heard every single word she broadcast to the diner.

  Swallowing down all the pain Monica just delivered, I continue walking, and when I pass by Lincoln and his friends, I offer a friendly smile.

  “Hey, guys, just have seat, and I’ll be with you in a sec.”

  I slam the kitchen door behind me and look up to the new cook staring at me with a perplexed expression.

  “Sorry, I just need a second,” I say.

  “Hang in there. You only have fifteen minutes left of your shift,” he says.

  The last thing I want to do is hang in there or go out and face that bitch. I’ve never once had the desire to spit into someone’s food until hers.

  The kitchen doors squeak open, and I look up from the shelf I’m leaning on to see Lincoln.

  “I’m sorry,” he offers.

  “It’s not your fault. Please just leave me alone.”

  �
��Oakley,” he says.

  “I said leave me alone.”

  “You need to get out of here now,” the cook hollers to Lincoln.

  Turning away from Lincoln, I bury my face in the shelf and wish a giant black hole would swoop me up for good, leaving me no choice to run, or stay, or love, or hurt. It would all just be over in a matter of moments. That’s what I want.

  “Order up.”

  Fifteen minutes. I can do this. Jenni, strengthen your inner Jenni, hold your head high, and serve those motherfuckers their food.

  “Hey, guys,” I say as I approach Lincoln’s table.

  “Hi,” Jewel says.

  “Sorry,” I whisper to Lincoln, “I’m just trying to make it through the rest of my shift.”

  Leaning over, I kiss him on the lips and feel his hands grab my ass. I’m not a rocket scientist, but I’m pretty sure this is not something a boss would approve of and I give zero fucks. My Jenni came out to play.

  Standing back up, I ask, “What are we eating?”

  A voice from Monica’s booth shouts, “We were here first.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Tiny bellows.

  His deep voice makes me jump a little.

  Lincoln turns around, facing the booth, and says, “Maybe if you weren’t dragging around such a bitch you might get better service.”

  The whole booth erupts in laughter, and I’m dying to see Monica’s reaction, but I refuse to turn around and give her the satisfaction of my attention.

  Lincoln drags me down into his lap while I take their orders.

  “I know what you want, Mr. Wilks,” I say, writing down his usual.

  “I want the whole fucking menu,” Tiny says.

  “Chef salad here,” Jewels decides. “C’mon, Heath order something,” she hisses at him.

  Her sad look is back on her face, so I’m guessing the first day of the semester didn’t go well, or maybe she told her dad about the baby. While waiting on Tiny to make his mind up, I realize Lincoln has snaked his hand down to my crotch.