by Kayt Miller
Rolling down the passenger window, Baker leans over. “Get in, Virginia.”
“No. I’m fine. I can walk.”
“Get in the damn car, Virginia.” I look over at him just as he adds, “Please?”
I stomp one foot down hard like a spoiled child. “Fine!” Sliding into the passenger seat, I make myself look at anything and everything except for Baker. It’s bad enough I can smell him. He smells good. Besides, I know what he looks like, and he looks outstanding in his low-slung jeans and snug gray ISU Hockey tee. Because I’m angry and being a bitch I snap, “Don’t you ever wear anything other than ISU Hockey clothes?”
“Sure.”
Sure? That’s it? “Whatever,” I mutter.
“What’d I do?”
I turn to look at him. “What do you mean?” He hasn’t pulled away from the curb yet, so his body is turned to face me.
“What’d I do to make you so angry with me?”
“Nothing!” I spit. Taking a deep breath, I say calmly, “Nothing. You didn’t do anything, Baker.” I feel his hand on my neck and as soon as I turn to look at him his lips are on mine. I moan into his mouth as I reach for him. I scrape my fingers into his hair as he leans down until his upper body is on my side of the car.
“You drive me fucking crazy, Virginia.” He keeps saying that, but I don’t know what he means by that. I’m not going to over-analyze it right now. No, right now I need to kiss Baker Stark. Badly. So, I ignore him and kiss him hard and fast. I’m in control of this kiss, and it feels amazing. I feel his big warm palm slide up my leg and beneath my skirt. His lips leave mine, but they don’t stop kissing me across my cheek and down the side of my neck, I shiver when he kisses the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. Whispering as his lips touch my body, he says, “I don’t like that you keep changing yourself, but I’m not gonna lie, this outfit is fucking hot, Virginia.”
I gently pull his head up, so our mouths are millimeters apart. I know I should say something, but I don’t want to talk. I just want to kiss him, and I want him to kiss me back. I lean in and slide my tongue over his lips until he opens his mouth. I turn my head to the right just enough. I feel his hands moving again. I feel him touch me front and center. He’s tentative but when his finger presses and circles me, I squeak. Jerking back, I place my hand on his wrist.
He quickly moves his hand out from beneath my skirt. Running his big hands through his hair and over his face he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you, Virginia. I just got carried away.”
“It’s okay. I did too.”
Forcing out a big breath, he puts the car in gear and says, “Let me take you home.”
“Okay.”
We drive in silence to my apartment. When we arrive, Baker opens his door to step out. “No,” I say touching his forearm. It’s then that I notice his nice thick forearm. Crap. Peach was right about those. “Don’t get out.” I open my door and step out then lean back into his car. “Thanks for the ride, Baker.”
“No problem.”
I’m about to say something more when he puts his car into gear. I shut the door quickly and watch him speed away. I think I made him angry. No, he’s not angry. Is he disappointed? He seemed to want me, sexually. What would have happened if I hadn’t stopped him? Would I be in the backseat of his car losing my maidenhood?
I stop walking when the thought occurs to me: Does Baker Stark want me? “Nah!” But, he seems to be everywhere I am. He’s always approaching me, talking to me, kissing me. Can it be? It doesn’t seem possible, but there are just too many coincidences. Before my survey, I’d never laid eyes on Baker. Maybe it’s true. It must be. “Oh, my God. Baker Stark wants me!” I shout as I enter my apartment.
“Who’s Baker Stark?” asks my roommate who’s sitting on the lap of one Ryan Reynolds. I recognize him from the day of the survey plus he’s wearing those stupid striped overalls again.
“Baker Stark? He’s the goalie for the ISU Hockey team. He’s good. Could go pro. At least that’s the word on the street,” says Ryan Reynolds in the stupid striped overalls. “I’ve met him a few times. Nice guy.” He looks up at Peach then at me adding, “You doing him?”
“Uh…”
“Ryan!” squeaks Peach as she slaps him on his chest. “Don’t be crass.”
“Well, I was just going to say that’s a surprise. He’s usually with chicks that are…” he looks at Peach then at me. I can tell he’s afraid to say the next words, but he does it anyway, “…different?”
“Different how?” asks Peach.
Damn it, Peach. Shut the hell up. That’s what I want to say, but I don’t.
“Uh, well, they’re usually blonde and just a bit smaller.”
“Smaller?”
Peach, jeez. This is getting painful.
“Yeah, smaller. Not fat.”
“What!” Peach says jumping off his lap. “Virginia is beautiful.”
“Babe. Don’t get upset. She’s not that ugly or anything…”
“Get out, Ryan!” she says pointing to the door. “If you’re going to be so judgmental about a woman who is so obviously beautiful and sweet and kind, then you should go. I hate guys like you.”
“Penny?” Ryan whines. “Babe, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Peach stands her ground still pointing at the door. “Just go.”
He walks slowly to the door with his head hanging low and shoulders slumped. “Peach, he didn’t mean it.”
Ryan turns hoping my words are enough, but they aren’t, “Out!” she shouts.
Like Eeyore, Ryan Reynolds lumbers out the door as Peach slams it shut behind him. “Men!” she shouts. Flopping back onto the couch she says, “Okay. Spill. Who’s Becker Sparks and why do you think he wants to do you?”
“Uh, it’s Baker Stark, and you just kicked out your boyfriend.”
“Meh. It’s good for him. He was getting a little complacent, and we’ve just started dating. Gotta keep ‘em on their toes, Grasshopper. Now, start talking.”
“Good to know.” I sit down on the sofa kicking off the terrible shoes Peach loaned me. I bring my legs up under my butt and lean back on the pillow. “I need to start at the beginning.”
“Hang on. Let me get a glass of wine. You want one?”
“Yes, please. I need a drink!” As soon as we’re on the couch sipping our wine, I begin the story with the interview (and the kiss) in the library study room. I also mention his two visits to the coffee shop, the text messages, as well as the two times he gave me a ride home after my disastrous dates (and more kisses).
“Wow! You’ve been a busy girl,” Peach says sipping her wine.
“It’s nothing.”
“I don’t think so. I think it’s something. What’s he look like?”
“I don’t have any pictures.”
“He’s probably on the ISU Hockey team website. Bring that up on your phone. I pull the phone out of my back pocket, “it’s dead.” I hop up and run to my room to grab my charging cord. Plugging it into the wall socket closest to the couch, I wait for it to come back to life.
“Oh, good lord, girl. You’ve landed yourself a hotty,” Peach says staring at her phone. “Is this him?” She turns the phone to face me. On her screen is a picture of Baker Stark in his hockey outfit.
“Yep, that’s him.”
“Mommy,” she whimpers. “He’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You’ve kissed him? Three times?”
“Yes.” I look down at my phone.
“Dayum,” she mutters. While she does that, my phone comes to life as it chimes several times notifying me I’ve got some new text messages. There are three from my mom that I want to delete but I won’t and one from an Unknown Number.
Unknown Number: I’m sorry about tonight. I let it get out of hand. You aren’t the kind of girl I usually go for, Virginia. You’re a good girl––the girl next door––the kind you take home to mom. The problem is, I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t take girls hom
e to mom. I’m sorry if I’ve confused you but you and me? It’s not gonna happen.
Okay, how can a text be both thoughtful and gut-wrenchingly painful at the same time? I can only concentrate on the bad part because the thoughtful part of it is already forgotten. The only thing that remains is the part where he said I wasn’t good enough for him.
“What’s wrong, Virginia? Your face lost all of its color.”
Instead of speaking, I hand over my phone so that she can read the text. “Did Blake send this?”
“Baker. Yeah.”
“What an asshole.”
“Uh, huh. I think he was trying to be sort of nice.”
“Sort. Of. Nice? Are you kidding me? This is ridiculous.” Peach reads the text one more time. “Okay, you’ve got some options here.”
“Options.”
“One. You could ignore the text.”
“Uh, huh.”
“Two. You could send him an equally scathing rebuttal.”
“Okay.”
“Three. You could just reply with a simple ‘F.U.’”
“Good. Yeah.”
“Number four and my personal favorite... You could reply with three words.”
“Three words?”
“Yep. Just type ‘Who is this?’”
“’Who is this?’ But, I know who it is.”
“Trust me. It’ll drive him bonkers.”
“How? He won’t care what I write.”
“He will.” Peach starts to giggle.
“Fine.” I grab the phone out of her hand and type.
Me: Who is this?
“Believe me. I give him less than five minutes before he responds.”
In two minutes, twenty-three seconds, we hear a ding.
Unknown Number: Who is this? Virginia, you know who the fuck this is?
I start to respond but Peach touches my hand. Wait. Don’t reply. They’ll be more.
Unknown Number: This is Baker. B-a-k-e-r. Jesus. I just had my tongue down your throat and my hand on your pussy. Remember me now?
Peach turns to me with a little pink blush. Nothing compared to mine though. “He had his hand on your lady-land?”
It’s my turn to laugh now. “Lady-land?” I titter. “That’s a new one. And not really. He touched me over the panties. He didn’t actually touch me.” I re-read our texts and laugh again. “Now what?”
“Wait about an hour before you send a response.”
“An hour?”
“Yeah, it’ll make him crazy that you haven’t written. He’ll see that you read his text too. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to write you back in the next thirty minutes.”
“You’ve been right so far, Peach. I’m not going to bet against you.”
“Wise, young Grasshopper. Very wise.”
Chapter 20
Virginia
Just as Peach prognosticated, Baker wrote me again. I had to wait closer to forty-five minutes for it, but it came none-the-less.
Unknown Number: Virginia? This isn’t funny. I meant what I said in my first text. I’m sorry if it hurts you.
Per Peach’s instructions, my next response was simple and immediate.
Me: Whatevs.
Unknown Number: Whatevs? WTF? I didn’t think a girl like you would do this to someone like me.
The next text is all me. The nerve!
Me: Well, I have no idea what to say to that. A girl like me? Someone like you? You’ve piqued my curiosity. You mean a smart woman and a jock? Or do you mean a fat woman and a stud muffin like you? Either way, you can now move on with your life. I’m good.
Unknown Number: Jesus. You make me crazy. And you’re not fat.
Me: Alrighty then. Good talk. See ya.
Me: Oops. Guess not.
Unknown Number: Jesus.
There were no more texts that night or for three nights after that. On the fifth night, however, I get a little surprise at three in the morning.
Unknown Number: Virgeninia?
Me: ?
Unknown Number: It’s me. What r u doinz?
Is Baker intoxicated?
Me: Sleeping.
Unknown Number: You want company? I’d love to sleep with you. I miss you.
I’m getting my first drunken booty call from a guy who doesn’t even want to see me again. Wonderful.
Me: No.
Unknown Number: Virginzia, you make me crazy.
Me: So you keep saying. Sorry.
Not sorry.
Unknown Number: Please? Let me come over. I make you feezl so goods, babe.
Me: I have company.
I’m not making that up. My dad is here this weekend for Homecoming. He got in late tonight. We’ve been up talking for hours, which is why I’m awake to respond to these texts at three in the morning.
Unknown Number: Who? Who’s there? I’m gonns kicks his ass. You r mine.
Okayyyy. That’s weird. I wish Peach were up so I could talk to her about this. But, maybe I can channel her right now. She’d either ignore his texts or she’d just shut him down.
Me: It’s none of your business. Go to bed and sleep it off.
I opt for the shutdown. It’s for the best. He’ll regret this tomorrow. No reason to make it worse for him because he’s obviously a lot drunk and a little deranged. When he doesn’t respond again, I sigh with relief. I pull my blanket up to my chest as I lay down on my couch. I gave the bed to my dad. He had a long drive, and he’s no spring chicken. He deserves a good night’s sleep.
I’m not sure what wakes me, but I’m startled out of sleep. When I hear knocking on my front door. I throw my blanket off and race to stop the noise. “Shhh, who is it?” I hiss.
“Bakerz.”
“Shit. Go home!” I hiss.
“No. Open the door, beautiful. Let me see you. Then…then I’ll go.”
I pull the door open, but it only opens a couple of inches thanks to the security chain. “Baker. Go home. It’s late. How did you get up here?”
He leans over giving me a whiff of is breath. “The door was op-open.”
No doubt some idiot in the building stuck the brick there again. Tomorrow I’m going to throw that brick into a river.
“S-sorry. I went out with the guys. We, uh, I drank. A lot.”
“No. Really?”
He smiles and points at me. “You're bein’ s-sarcastic.” He smiles with pride, “See? I’m not that drunk.”
“Good for you,” I deadpan. “You didn’t drive did you?”
“Nah. Tigger dropped me off.”
Tigger? Wow, he’s really out of it. Well, thank goodness for small favors. “Go home, Baker.”
“Just let me come in. I’ll just crash on your couch. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
I’m torn. While I don’t want him here, I certainly don’t want him out on the mean streets of Ames, Iowa either. Who knows what kind of mischief he could get into? “Fine. But be quiet. People are asleep.”
I push the door closed and remove the chain. Opening it wide, I step aside to let Baker through the door. As he passes, he looks at me from head to toe. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Virginia.” His hand touches my stomach then it slides around my waist to my lower back. My skin tingles from his touch. Damn it.
“Yeah. Right,” I mutter under my breath. I’m wearing a pair of old jogging shorts and a soft old t-shirt. Nothing fancy.
Leaning in to me, he presses a soft kiss on my lips. Whispering, “You make me crazy, Virginia.” He starts to walk away adding, “And hard. You make me rock hard, babe.” We both look down at his jeans and see it’s noticeably tented.
“Good to know.” I’m trying to be cool. I really am. Seeing him aroused like that does things to me. I push those feelings down. Wayyyyy down.
When he spots the couch, he makes a beeline for it. Kicking off his shoes, his sweatshirt and his tee he wore beneath, I see the bare-chested version of Baker Stark. Ladies, no lie, the guy is ripped. His muscles have muscles. “Wow,” I wh
isper just loud enough for me to hear. Or so I thought.
“You like what you see?” he says turning around to face me.
“No.”
Baker lets out a snort. “Right. Chicks like all of thisss,” he slurs has his hands run down his stomach to his crotch. He gives himself a little squeeze before he reaches out to pull his jeans down to his mid-thigh.
“What are you doing?” I squeak.
“Getting ready for bed. I sleep nude, but I’m just gonna wear my boxers. S’okay?”
“Fine,” I say resignedly. When he kicks his jeans off, I can’t help myself. I stare. He’s built like a Greek God, like Zeus. Yeah, definitely like Zeus.
Flopping onto the couch onto his side, I watch him twist and turn until he’s on his back. In mere seconds he’s snoring, and I’m just standing next to him staring down at this man. I’m startled when he rearranges himself again and smile when I hear him mumbling. I’d like to tell you I heard my name, but it’s impossible to say.
Sighing, I grab my pillow from below his feet and head into Peach’s room. She’s only got a full-sized bed, so it’s going to be a tight squeeze. I gently nudge her body, but she doesn’t move. “Peach,” I whisper hiss. “Move over.”
“Go away,” she grumbles.
“Slide over. I need to sleep in here.”
“No. Why?”
“Baker’s on the couch.”
That woke her up damn fast. “What? Why?”
“He drunk dialed me. I think he wanted a booty call.”
“No way!”
“Way.”
She slides out of bed and moves out to the living room to get a look for herself. “Holy hell. He’s even better in person.”
“I know. It’s too bad he’s such an asshat.”
“Yeah, that’s a shame.”
“Come on. I’m going to need to be up with dad in like two hours. I need a little sleep.”
“You should slide in there next to him. Freak him out in the morning.”
I look at her and blink. “You think?”
“Pretend you did it on the couch without a condom and that you want to name the baby after your father who happens to be in the next room.”
“Seriously?”
“No, you dork,” she giggles. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. You’ve still got so much to learn, young Grasshopper.”