by Bellus, HJ
“Pedro,” I correct.
He plucks Pedro from under my arm and pats his head while taking a seat on the couch like this is his second home. And before long they begin wrestling. Yes, the man of my dreams is currently wrapped up in a chokehold with Pedro, growls and all.
“Drink?” I ask.
“I’m good. Do you know what movie you want to see?” Oren doesn’t miss a beat while wrestling and growling back at Pedro.
“I haven’t been to a movie in forever. I’m lame. I correct papers for fun.” I perch on the arm of the couch near the tumbling duo. “You can pick.”
“I’m in the same boat as you. I haven’t been to the theatres for years.”
“Here.” I toss him my laptop that lands between him and Pedro. Pedro pants a bit and then nuzzles into Oren’s lap while he fumbles to flip open the lid.
“I’ve picked the diner and basically ordered for you, so you get to pick the movie.”
“Chick flick or action packed? What’s your choice of poison?” Oren flips open the laptop and I offer up my password.
“I like anything,” I reply, fighting the urge to curl up in his lap while he plucks in the password.
And it’s like he reads my mind. Oren’s large palm wraps around my wrist, dragging me into his lap. His breath tickles the tender flesh on my neck. I find it easy to melt back into him. He snakes his muscular arms around me until both of his fingers are back to the keyboard.
“Password, again?” he asks.
I swear I feel his tongue lap up and leave a fiery path of passion along my neck. I’m not sure if he really just licked my neck or if it was my wild imagination.
I repeat the password one more time, making sure he strikes each key correctly. The rainbow circle of death whirls around for seconds as everything loads.
“A guy at work is saying there’s a new romantic suspense thriller type in the theatres called The Hunted. I’ll check the times.” Each sound and syllable produced by his throaty and sex lathed voice sends chills through my body, capturing more of my heart word by word.
“Sounds amazing.” In a bold move, I turn just enough to place a quick peck on his cheek.
I feel each peck of his fingers as he types in the password. It’s quite a lengthy one and in this moment I’m appreciative of that. I feel myself melt even more into his comforting embrace.
I watch as he clicks on the Internet icon. Seconds float by before a ball slapping sound interrupts our intimate moment.
It’s not just a ball slapping sound but it’s accompanied by a hairy visual. That visual being a hairy butthole as an Oscar Meyer wiener pummels into the ass. I see hair, balls, dick, buttthole, and then my life flash before my eyes.
Once again, Scout’s death is plotted from her ingenious idea of watching porn to educate myself.
I burst from Oren’s lap and I don’t miss his throaty laugh as I do. I know Pedro’s on my heels, but I ignore him as I slam the door to my room shut and huddle in a fetal position curled in my blankets.
I’m pretty sure watching porn online is an offense, against the law, and scrutinized by people around the world. Not only did I let my best friend search it up and me attempt to watch it, but also I left the fucking browser open on my computer.
I’m going to die of humiliation right now.
“Olivia.” Knuckles rapping against my door catch my attention, but I ignore them.
“Olivia, let me in.”
It’s his deep, sexy voice and I muster up no courage to reply.
“I’m opening the door and pray you’re not standing behind it with a blunt object, ready to kill me.”
The creaking sound of the door, his footsteps, and then Pedro’s nails clicking on hardwood floor follow. The bouncing on my mattress is Pedro, a motion I’m used to. Then it’s the low dip of the mattress that’s foreign to me. A heavy touch covers my hip.
“Olivia.”
“It was Scout,” I blurt.
“Olivia.”
“She told me to and opened it and then my curiosity got the best of me and she even had me drown my phone in my tub.” I don’t pull my face from the pillows.
“Olivia.”
“I don’t know how to date or keep a boyfriend. Kiss, have sex, none of that I know. She’s tried to teach me.”
“Olivia.”
“I only watched a few seconds of that before I needed to scrub out my eyeballs.”
“Olivia.”
“I was talking to a vibrator the other night and tried using my phone in the tub.”
His hand clutches my shoulder, rolling me over. “Okay, that last part is straight comedy.”
Oren’s deep laughter rolls in my room as he sets me up in the bed, dragging me onto his lap. Oren brushes a tendril of hair back from my frowning forehead.
“The movie starts in forty minutes. Gives us time for a quick bite to eat.”
I let out a breath of pent up frustration and inhale that amazing cologne of him.
“Olivia, can you promise me something?”
“What?” I mumble.
“Let me be the one who shows you and takes care of you.”
I don’t respond, move in his arms, or even make eye contact with him.
“Give us a try and don’t worry about it all happening, maybe just let it try.”
11
Cookie dough, where?
“Olivia.”
I turn from staring in the microwave, willing my leftover Mexican food to cook faster to Scout with her legs perched up on the table in the staff room.
“What?”
“You have to try this.”
“Not a damn chance.” I turn back to staring at my beans.
“Seriously, I’m going to do it with Taylor.”
“That’s real reassuring.” I pull the steaming take out box from the microwave and sit next to her.
“Don’t be a stuffy bitch since Oren promised the pot at the end of the rainbow.”
“I’m not.” I slap her thigh and steal a grape from her bowl. “I’m just done with your antics.”
“Okay, listen. My hair stylist told me that when you cook for your loved one that you’re supposed to rub it in your armpits.”
“What?” I choke on the damn grape. Karma at it’s best.
“She made cookies for her man and rubbed the balled up batter in her armpits before baking and he went wild for her. It’s pheromones and your partner will ravish you.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope. Another lady was getting her hair done and said the same thing. So, I’m baking cookies tonight and doing it. This is the gross part; it’s not like you need to be super clean it’s better to have your natural oils and smell on you.”
“It’s official. You’ve lost your fucking mind, Scout.”
My phone dings and Scout just rattles on.
Oren: How’s it going?
Me: Going.
Oren: It’s been a damn long week away
I think before I type out a text to him. I don’t want to show him just how damn needy I am.
Me: I miss you.
Oren: I miss you, too.
Me: We still on for Saturday night?
Oren: Yeah, I’ll be home early Saturday morning.
Me: Enjoy the Hot Cop Conference and don’t be hitting on any other first grade teachers. I’m kind of fond of you.
Oren: Will do
I set my phone back down on the table and try to focus in on Scout and her latest insane idea.
“So, why would you do this? You and Taylor screw like bunnies.”
She shrugs. “I just don’t want to lose the spark.”
“What’s going on?” I push her.
“He’s been distant and I know it’s because both of our jobs are super busy this time of year.”
“You’re overthinking it. He loves you.”
“Enough about me. I’ve got this armpit and pheromone shit under control.” She shoves her sandwich in her mouth. “When yo
u seeing Oren next?”
“He’s been gone all week at a cop convention or training or some shit like that. We are going out tomorrow night after I work at my dad’s shop.”
“Going to slide into second base or shoot for a home run?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll take it as it comes.”
The batty old third grade teacher interrupts us. “I hate to tell you, Olivia, but there’s no cop training this week. That’s at the end of the month.”
“Oren’s new so maybe it’s something else the others don’t do.”
“Think what you want, dear.”
The bell rings and the teachers begin dispersing.
“Don’t listen to her.” Scout pats my shoulder. “She came to school with cat shit in her hair last week.”
An hour floats by and I still have a terrible feeling about her comment, so I finally text Oren at last recess. I know I’m overanalyzing everything now but I don’t even know where he went or what exactly he was doing.
Me: Hey! I didn’t ask you where your training was.
Oren: California, why?
Me. Oh! I collect shot glasses. Want to grab me one?
Oren: of course xoxo
Me: Thanks
His xos throw me off my game. He’s back in California. I wonder if he’s near his hometown. I turn to my computer and fire up Google to search cop trainings in California.
“Olivia, stop. He has nothing to lie about. Scout’s right, Mrs. Donald is a dingbat,” I say out loud to myself.
It takes several minutes to talk myself out of searching the conference and his names. To love is to trust and the only way to find love is to rely on trust…it’s a blind leap of faith.
“He’s at a conference,” I reassure myself.
“Miss Olander why are you talking to yourself?”
I turn to see Janis staring at me like I’ve lost my marbles.
“It’s what you do when you get older,” I respond.
12
Fart
“No Scout today?” Dad asks, sitting next to me.
“Nope, she’s baking cookies.”
“The girl doesn’t know how to cook, does she?”
“Nope and she’s going to rub the dough in her armpits.”
“Less is more, Olivia.”
“Here.” I hand him a bag. “You won’t like it as much as the heart attack shit Scout feeds you, but it’s yummy.”
He peeks into the bag and grimaces. “I’m not a damn rabbit and you know I hate eating seagull.”
“Lettuce is healthy and it’s chicken, Pops.”
He just grunts and digs in. My dad’s not one for waste and is usually hungry. He’s a hard worker. The old-fashioned type; up before the dawn and working all day long. I worry about him and how long his body will hold up for him.
“I have all your May bills paid and logged. The shop is doing great.”
“I can’t believe May is already done. When you out for the summer?”
“June twelfth.”
“Want a summer job turning a wrench?”
I laugh at him. “You ask me this every summer.”
“Well, I figure one day you might take me up on it. You’re all I got, girl.”
“Dad, I’ll always keep this shop going, even if it’s not my prissy little hands twirling the wrenches.”
“I know. I know. Just want to instill that in you.”
A thundering engine rolls up to the front of the shop. Dad pokes his head out the door and shakes it side to side.
“Everyone in town knows I’m strict about my damn lunch break.” He stands up, tossing the Tupperware container to the desk. I notice all the lite dressing and chicken is gone while a bed of perfect lettuce remains in the bottom.
He steps out of his office to face the newly arrived car. “Holy shit, now that’s a car.”
I peek around my dad and spot a black, sleek, and very sexy 1967 Shelby Mustang. The chrome shines in the daylight.
“Well, if this isn’t better than any damn shitty salad.”
I pat my Pop on the shoulder. He’s a car lover at heart and oldies are his favorite. I turn to go back into the office and offer Pedro some of my chicken off my salad and dump Dad’s greens into my bowl and combine it all together.
I hear Dad’s voice off in the distance talking to the customer and go right back to finishing up the books for the month, so I can go home and wait on my own personal sex god or at least I hope one day he earns that title.
I turn the music up on the docking station and rock out to the best of the nineties. For years, my dad scolded, persisted, and damn near arm-wrestled me into going into the accounting field. I love working with numbers, it’s mindless, and soothing to me, but I knew I’d miss the human interaction part of it. I guess I went whole hog diving into the teacher world.
I lift one butt cheek off the chair and rip some wind. Pedro barks, getting caught off guard.
“It’s just me, boy, being so damn lady like.” I roll my eyes and tidy up my work area.
That damn chicken I think to myself as I hike my leg, steadying myself to rip another one. It’s the loudest fart I’ve ever heard, causing the whole area of butt to vibrate. When you begin to giggle at your own farts you know you’re a teacher. I’m damn tempted to go for a third one, but the possibility of sharting is lingering on the horizon.
“Olivia.”
I swivel in the office chair to see my dad and motherfucking Oren standing just inside the office. Maybe they didn’t hear it. I feel the blood drain from face and my fingers shake with the possibility of embarrassment. Dear Farting gods please help a little innocent Fart Loving god woman like me.
“What do you think about that damn rabbit food now you keep trying to stuff down my throat?” My dad asks and then proceeds to bust out into a belly laugh to the point he has to rest his palms on his knees all hunched over.
I slap both of my palms over my mouth and want to scream fuck you to the Farting gods of the Earth.
“Olivia.” Oren’s voice carries the natural deep husk to that sends chills up my spine. It’s saying a lot in this epic time of embarrassment. I can only manage to nod back to him.
Dad finally is able to stand up after several minutes of howling like a hyena. “You know my daughter?”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, wondering how in the world this could possibly get any more awkward.
“Yes, sir, I do.” Oren looks my dad straight in the eye when he talks.
“How?” Pops counters.
Oh, shit. He’s about to bear his protective dad teeth to Oren.
I’m still paralyzed from humiliation to even drop my hands from my mouth and help Oren out of my dad’s interrogation.
“I visited her class during career week representing Orange County Police.”
“You are.” Dad pauses looks at me and then back to Oren and raises his pointer finger. “You’re Mr. Lady Boner?”
Oh, for fucksake!
“Scout?” Oren asks my dad.
“Yep. I try to avoid her and Olivia’s conversations, but always find myself walking in on them at the worst times.”
“Oren O’Brien.” He sticks his hand out to my dad.
“Olivia’s dad or also known as Pops.”
The men do the manly handshake and nod heads before turning back to me with my hands still covering my mouth.
“Olivia, we came in here because I’m out of work order sheets in the garage. Could you grab me a few?”
I stand from the chair, remove my hands from my mouth, and finally discover my voice through the ocean of humiliation. “Pops, Oren is the guy I’ve been dating.”
The word dating feels weird rumbling off my tongue especially in front of my dad and Oren.
“Yeah, I figured as much since he’s Mr. Lady Boner.”
“Dad. Enough,” I spat and turn to grab him a stack of papers. “Here you go.”
“Open a window or something Olivia, I haven’t replaced the bat
teries in the carbon monoxide detector in a couple of months.”
Both men erupt in a knee slapping laughter that last moments longer than it should. The embarrassment fades away since this is the first time the two men in my life are in the same room and also sharing a moment. Even if that moment is over my reckless flatulence.
“I’ll go grab that VIN number and look up the parts.” Dad pats Oren on the shoulder and strolls away.
Oren takes a step closer to me. “Nice guy.”
“I get all my charm from him. What can I say?” I shrug my shoulders.
“Always full of surprises.” He draws out the full for a bit too long.
“Not one word of this.” I hold a finger up to him. “If Scout gets wind of this she’ll have it engraved on my headstone.”
He grabs my wrist, tugging me into him. “I won’t blow your secret, baby.”
“Oren.” I slap his wrist and let a giggle escape because not even Strawberry Shortcake could make this one up.
“I missed you way more than I thought possible.” He bends down and gently kisses me. He doesn’t let his lips linger on mine or dart his tongue into my mouth.
“I really missed you, like stalker criminal missed you.”
“Good to hear.” His smile widens, but he remains standing.
“What conference did you go to again?”
“Orange County doesn’t have a certified criminal detective and I was one back in California, so just had to go back and extend the certification.”
“Wow. Fancy.” I stand on my tiptoes and peck his lips. “Anyone else from the force go with you?”
“No. My partner tried so he’d get a good vacation out of it but the chief didn’t go for that.”
I kiss him again and feel him stiffen.
“It’s not you, Olivia. Your dad.” He nods back towards the shop.
“You’re such the gentleman,” I taunt. “But can we get to second base tonight? My ovaries are about to combust just smelling you.”
“You smell me?” he asks with a scrunched up brow.
“I’ll admit it sounds a bit creepy when I say it out loud, but yeah you’re my favorite scent.” I kiss him on his tender lips again. “I need an Oren candle to burn in my house.”