The Virginia Chronicles

by Kayt Miller

  “You look beautiful, Virginia.”

  “Well, you constructed it. You know, like Dr. Frankenstein.” Peach has my hair in braids in some intricate do that is supposed to look a little messy and tousled. It does. She did my makeup, and we found an adorable maxi dress at a discount store in the mall––thank goodness.

  “What time is he picking you up?”

  I peer down at my phone, “In three minutes.” Twenty-five minutes later, I’m about to give up when I hear a loud rumble from the street outside our apartment then a honk. When I look out the window and down into the parking lot, I see a circa 1980’s Honda that looks like it used to be blue but now it’s rust colored.

  “Please tell me he did not just honk at you.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  “Guys are such assholes,” she grumbles. “He can get out of his car and…” Her words are interrupted by three more honks. “Tell him I’m going to nut him if he does that again.”

  “On that note, I’m out of here. See you later.”

  As I quickly make my way to the door, she adds, “I want a full report when I get home.”

  “You’re going out?”

  “I have a date with Ryan Reynolds. Well, not a date. I’m meeting him at Cy’s.”

  Cy’s or Cy’s Roost as it’s called is a local bar and restaurant that has been a favorite hang. “You’re talking to that guy?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Now I need a full report.”

  Three more honks sound and I watch as Peach clenches her fists. “Swear to God, Virginia.”

  “I’m going. See you later. Have fun with Ryan,” I singsong.

  Jogging to Levi’s car, I attempt to open the passenger side door, but it won’t budge. I lean down, “It won’t open.”

  “Oh, shit, dude. I forgot. You have to come in this way.”

  Dude? I have to climb in through the driver’s side door? Great. I walk to his side of the car and wait for him to step out. “Uh, you need to get out.”

  “Oh, right,” he says smirking.

  Outside the car, I glance at his outfit––old jeans and an even older concert tee. Gee, it was nice of him to dress up. I slide in head first and ass up over the gear shifter thingy. In the process, I hit my head on the rearview mirror then again on the dashboard. Ouch.

  When I’m finally in place, Levi hops in and starts up the engine. It pops and wheezes to life. I look around and wonder how the car has made it this long. “Nice wheels.”

  “I know, right?” He pats the dashboard smiling, “Good ole’ Civvy.”

  Civvy? It’s a Honda Civic, so I guess it makes sense. We decide on a restaurant that’s known for its burgers. When we reach the booth, I slide into my side, and he slips in right next to me when there’s a perfectly good spot on the other side of the table. Why do couples do that? It’s awkward. I keep my mouth shut, though.

  When a waiter approaches the table to get our order, Levi orders the Triple Bacon-Bacon Burger with a chocolate shake, fries, and onion rings. I order a single burger with a side of fries and a glass of water. While we wait for our food, we talk. Our conversation revolves around music and extreme sports. Levi loves to watch skateboarding competitions and those bike races that they do on sides of mountains. Since I have no idea what that is, I just nod and listen.

  At some point in the conversation, I feel his hand on my thigh. Okay, now I know why people sit on the same side of the booth. He doesn’t try anything. Levi sort of moves his palm up and down my leg. It’s not unpleasant.

  As soon as the food is in front of him, Levi eats his burger like he hasn’t eaten for days––maybe weeks. “Hungry?”

  “Starving,” he says with a mouth full of, well, everything. It’s a little disgusting, to be honest. He doesn’t speak another word until his food is gone and he’s eying mine. “Do you want to share some of your fries with me?” he asks with a sugary sweet smile.

  I bet that smile works for him all the time. “Sure.” Okay, by ‘share’ he means eat them all. The guy is a garbage disposal. I don’t mind. I’m not super comfortable eating all of this food in front of him.

  “So, I thought we’d go hang out with some of my buddies after this. Thought you might want to watch me do some tricks with my board, man.”

  Man? First of all, I’m not a ‘man’. I hate that. I also hate being called ‘dude’. Second of all, the last thing I want to do is watch Levi and his buddies do skateboarding stuff. “Sure. Sounds good.”

  When the bill arrives, Levi does nothing. I expect him to reach into his wallet and pull some money out, but he just looks at his nails and then up at the ceiling. “Uh, should we split it?”

  “Uh, I think I forgot my wallet. Can you get it?”

  I feel the heat rise from my chest up to my neck to my cheeks. It’s not like I expected him to pay the entire bill like this was a date or something, but I’m paying for all of it? I think ‘free meal’ fits him better than ‘free spirit’. “Sure. I’ll get it.”

  I reach into my little purse and grab my debit card. Setting it on the small tray, we wait for the waiter to pick it up. “Cool.” He says leaning back in his seat. “Dang, we should have ordered dessert,” he says sounding disappointed.

  “Oh, well… too late now.” Once the bill is paid, I crawl into his car, and off we go. He drives us a few miles away to a more industrial area. Pulling into an abandoned parking lot, I see a group of people with skateboards. “You skate here?”

  “Until the cops come, yeah.” He smirks. “Let me grab my board out of the trunk.”

  When we reach his friends, I count six guys and three girls. I call them girls because none of them look much older than middle school. I smile, and I’m about to introduce myself to all three girls when they glare at me. “I guess not,” I whisper to myself.

  Finding a spot on a nearby concrete step––far away from the pre-pubescent girls, I wait for Levi to introduce me to his peeps but that never happens. Instead, I spend the next forty-five minutes watching them attempt and fail to skateboard. Levi has fallen or nearly fallen at least ten times. I’m surprised he’s not bleeding.

  An hour after arriving, I’m ready to go. It’s dark, and there’s only one light on in this parking lot, and it’s not enough to illuminate their skateboarding tricks. It’s pointless to continue. Walking over to him, I say, “Uh, Levi? You ready to go?”

  “Huh?” he says looking shocked. “No. We’re just getting warmed up.”

  Okaaayyy. “I’m tired. I’m ready to go.” I decide just to be honest.

  “Okay. I’ll see ya around, maybe.”

  He’ll see me around? I don’t have a car. “I don’t have a car.” Like, duh, Levi. You drove me.

  “You can walk. It’s not far.”

  I hear a bitchy female voice add, “ Walking’s good exercise. You could use it.”

  The other girls snicker, and I’m dumbstruck. Opening and closing my mouth like a fish, I wait for Levi to jump in to defend me. I look at him, and he shrugs. “It is good exercise.”

  Without another word, I start the long trek back toward campus. “Okay, what are my options?” I sigh. “One of them is never going out with Levi again. What a jerk!” Luckily, I’m wearing flat sandals, which is lucky because if I had to estimate the walk from this spot on the east edge of Ames then on to my place, I’d say it was about five miles. I can’t call Peach. She’s on a date with Ryan Reynolds. She’d probably pick me up, but I don’t want to interrupt her fun. I could jump on a CyRide bus, but I’ll need to get closer to Duff Avenue to catch one of those.

  Checking my phone, I note that I’ve been walking about half an hour and I’ve made it to Duff and Lincolnway, the main roads that run through Ames. I should be able to catch a bus, but I forgot my bus pass. “Great.” I could probably talk the driver into letting me onto the bus…

  Periodically checking behind me to see if a bus is coming, I make it another mile when I spot a bus stop with a bench and a streetli
ght above it. I’m so tired I decide I’ll risk a shot at the bus. Maybe I can sweet talk the driver into letting me ride for free. When I spot a car doing a U-turn in the middle of the busy road I don’t think anything of it. When it pulls into area designated for CyRide, I look up and watch the passenger window of a shiny new Nissan roll down. Great. Just great. “Hey, Baker.”

  “What are you doing sitting at a bus stop on Lincolnway at this time of night?”

  I look down at my phone. “It’s not even midnight yet.” Okay, it’s twelve thirty. Time flies.

  He’s leaning over the passenger seat to talk to me through the window. “It’s late. Too late for a beautiful girl to be out here alone.”

  Beautiful girl? “I’m fine. Thanks for stopping.” I stand up and start to walk again. No need for me to sit there and listen as Baker chastises me.

  “Virginia?” he says with a deep, demanding voice. “Get into the car.”

  “No. I’m fine. See you later.” Or not.

  “Please?” he says sweetly “Please get in the damn car, Virginia,” he adds not quite as sweetly.

  “Fine!” I say as I stomp over to the passenger side. I yank the door open and slide onto the black leather seats and new car smell plus something else. It’s manly and something all Baker. “Nice wheels.”

  “Thanks. Gift from my grandmother.”

  “Wow, she must really like you.”

  Chuckling in a deep, rich sound, he says, “She loves me. I’m her only grandchild.”

  “Spoiled?” I mutter.

  “Nah, I’m not spoiled. I help her out a lot. This is how she paid me back. Not like she needed to, she didn’t. I had a perfectly good pickup truck.”

  “Good to know,” I mutter.

  “Where do you live?”

  “West Ames.”

  He puts the car into drive and maneuvers it until we’re back onto the main road. “Why were you walking?”

  Okay, there’s no way I’m telling him about the date from hell. “Just felt like taking a stroll.”

  “A stroll? All the way out here?”

  “Why are you out here?” I say crossing my arms over my chest. Yeah, that Mr. Bossy Pants!

  “I live about a block away.”

  “Oh. How did you know it was me sitting there?”

  “I wasn’t sure it was you. I circled the block a few times to be sure before I stopped. So, why were you walking this far away from home?”

  Jeez, the guy should be a cop or in jail. Stalker. “Bad date,” I mumble.

  “You were on a date? Did you have an argument or something? Why would your date let you walk home?”

  “Good question.”

  “You’re not going to see him again, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Who is this guy?”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “Try me.”

  Why does he care? “His name is Levi, and he works at a record store.”

  “Spinners?”

  Oh, shit. “I, uh, I’m not sure.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Virginia.”

  “It’s fine. I was ready to go; he wasn’t. I chose to walk.”

  “Liar.”

  “Fine! He’s a tool. He was skateboarding with his buddies and…” I feel a hot tear roll down my cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. It was just a crappy date. End of story.” Baker must be able to take a hint because he keeps his mouth shut the rest of the way. Pulling into the lot outside my apartment, he puts the car into park and jumps out. I watch him make his way around to my side of the car. Pulling it open, he holds his hand out to me. I take it. “Thanks.”

  Once I’m out of the car, I find myself standing very close to Baker. “You gonna be okay?” he asks softly.

  “Of course. I’m fine.”

  “That guy your boyfriend?”

  “No. First and last date,” I scoff.

  “Good to know.”

  I’m not sure how he accomplished it, but he’s got my back pressed up against the side of his car, and my front pressed up against him. It’s the same move from the library study room. “What are you doing?” I whisper. I'm not going to scare him away. This feels good. Wrong, but good.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss, Virginia.”

  “Oh yeah?” I joke. “I was that good?”

  “Fuck yeah. You were that good. But, was it a fluke?”

  “A fluke?”

  “Yeah, babe. Was it a fluke? I need to know.”

  I feel his arms wrap around my lower back pressing even closer. “Okay,” I say as his mouth finds mine. It’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take him long to get his groove back. When his tongue sweeps in to meet mine, I moan. I slide my hands up until they’re around his neck and up into his hair. My body wants to climb his body. I want to be higher and closer to him. He must read my mind because his big hands slide down until they're cupping my bottom lifting me until we’re at eye level.

  I wrap my legs around him and pull him into me. When Baker moans, I feel my panties melt. He presses his erection into me then he pulls away slightly. I want to feel him again, so I whimper just a little bit. As I pull away, I get a real taste of Baker’s dirty talk. “You like that, Virginia? You like the feel of my big hard cock rubbing against your sweet pussy?”

  I know I blush about fifty shades of pink, but I nod anyway. “Yeah,” I croak. “I like it.”

  He takes my mouth so hard and so fast I’m not sure what to do so I push my fingers into his thick hair and pull. “Goddamn, Virginia. I want to fuck you so bad but…”

  I pull my face away from his and loosen the legs I’ve got wrapped around him like a snake. I know what he’s going to say. He’s going to say something like ‘…but you’re not my type, or you’re too fat, or you’re too something that’s not good’ so to save face for a second time tonight, I interrupt, “Let me down.”

  “Virginia…”

  “No! Don’t say anymore. Let me down now!”

  He slowly pulls back so I can slide down his body. I can feel how hard he is with each inch I’m lowered. Bending down, I pick up my little purse that I must have dropped at some point. “Thanks for the ride.” I practically run to the front entrance to my building. I don’t look back; I’m prepared to unlock the front door but no need, some jackhole in my building has it propped open with a brick. They do it all the time. “That’s so unsafe,” I mutter kicking the brick out of the way. I hear it click behind me and jog up the stairs to my apartment.

  All I want to do now is take a hot bath and cry myself to sleep. And that’s what I attempt to do. When I see a text from Baker, I wonder how he got my number.

  Unknown Number: You looked beautiful tonight, Virginia. That guy is an idiot.

  Me: How’d you get my number?

  Stalker.

  Unknown Number: You sent me a text to set up my interview for your “research.”

  Duh, Virginia. Of course.

  Me: It is research.

  Unknown Number: Sure.

  Me: It is!

  Unknown Number: Virginia?

  Me: What?

  Unknown Number: It wasn’t a fluke.

  Crap! He’s talking about the kiss. I don’t think it was a fluke either. The kiss tonight was even better than the first one, but I decide not to reply. It does no good to respond because nothing good can come of this. Guys like Baker Stark don’t have relationships with girls like me. It goes against the law of nature.

  Chapter 16

  Virginia

  “So, how’d it go?” Peach asks me as I pull on my work pants.

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Why not? What happened?”

  “Long story. I’m late, so I’ll have to tell you later.” I zip up my pants and look at her, “How was your date?”

  “Ah-maze-ing!” she squeaks. “I think I’m in love.”

  “Huh? Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” she says coming down from her love balloon. Frowning
, she asks, “Why?”

  “It’s just really soon. You’ve only been out with him once.” I see her blink at me. “Right?”

  “There may have been a couple of other times.”

  “A couple?”

  “Or ten.”

  Ten? “You’re dating someone, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Well, I thought you’d be angry because he was a surveyee.”

  “A. Participant!” I yell. “God. I can’t believe you. I tell you everything!” Well, she doesn’t know about Baker and his lips, but that’s nothing.

  “I’m sorry, Virginia. I thought you’d be angry.”

  “Forget about it. I’ve gotta go. See you.” Why did that whole conversation hurt so much? As I walk to the bus stop, I do my best to fight the tears. One or two tears slip out, but I’m able to get it under control. At least that’s one thing in my life I can control. Everything else is one big cluster-fuck. When I get to work, I see that the trend from above is still going strong. “Hey, Kip.” God, I hate working with Kip.

  “Hey, Virginia. Hurry up and clock in there’s a lot to do this morning.”

  “Why? Didn’t the closers do their job again last night?”

  When I see his face I know I said the wrong thing, “We were busy!”

  “Oh, right. Sure. Sorry.” Not sorry. They weren’t busy. I’ve worked that shift many times, and it’s always dead after seven. We close at ten, so that gave him three hours to get stuff done. But, he knew I’d be here in the morning. He knew I’d get it taken care of even though all I want to do is throw a ceramic mug at his head. Jerk!

  Working at Mach speed, I restock everything behind the counter and attempt to clean up the sugar station. Halfway through that job, the door opens and the first customers of the day walk in. I look around for Kip and see he’s missing––again. I’ve had it. I really have. If I lose my job over this, who cares?