“So 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