Looking to Lose (completed)

*8*

The irony of me searching to lose my virginity on the Lord's day is not lost on me. But I've never been religious. I've always been more of a facts-based girl myself; evolution has taught me that our sole purpose on this earth is to reproduce. Granted, the only thing I do not want to come from my sexcapades is a baby, but I figure practicing how to make one is still in-line with evolution's plan for me.

And so I hop on the trolley Sunday morning, cookies in hand and sex on my mind. Ray greets me and I give him a few of the snickerdoodles my mom baked last night.

"You spoil me Isabel!" He laughs merrily as he inhales the cookie in three bites.

"Only the best for the best trolley driver in town," I reply with a smile, finding my usual seat.

I spend the whole ride plotting and planning on how I can lose this loathsome thing called my virginity. First, I need to find someone of the male gender. I assess my options: Scott. That's literally my only option. My brain tries to interrupt and convince me of another option, but I shut it up before it completely ruins my planning. Second, I need to get him to have sex with me. That's definitely the trickier of the two steps, especially seeing as though I only know his first name and his place of work. I don't even have his number.

By the time the trolley reaches my stop, I vow to myself to go to Scott's office tomorrow and ask for his number. Afterall, I only have three more weeks. I need to put on my big girl pants and start sculpting my own fate, instead of waiting for it to come to me.

It's fifteen minutes to ten by the time I reach the shop, but the door is already propped open, letting a summery wind rustle the pages of the books propped up on the front table. My surprise heightens when I see the rest of the shop is set up; even the tiles around the bar are streaked with recently evaporated water, evidently just mopped. I drop my stuff in my cubby in the back room, still not seeing anyone. Weird.

I wander over to the bar, hooking up my phone to the aux chord and shuffling H.E.R. – I must be in a horny mood. The damp rag lying next to the sink indicates the bar has already been wiped down. Everything is perfectly in place and ready to start the day, leaving me feeling rather useless. Usually I'm the first in the shop, running around frantically for fifteen minutes to get everything set up.

My fingers finding nothing to do, they mindlessly tug my hair out of the braid I slept in, the waves tumbling down loosely around my head, creating a lion's mane.

"Why is your hair black?"

"Jesus CHRIST!" I scream, spinning around to see Aaron leaning against the non-fiction shelf holding an empty box. "You scared me!"

"Clearly."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Working," he shrugs, as though he always comes and opens the shop, even though I'm the only one who ever does it. "Why is your hair black?" he repeats.

Resigned to the fact that I will never know why he came in early today and did all my work, I sigh. "My grandmother is Korean. My hair seems to be the only feature I got from her."

He just nods and walks to the back room. Weird.

Soon the after-church rush comes in for a cup of joe. This is our most regular crowd, seeing as though the biggest church in town is only a block away, and we are one of the only cafes open on Sundays in the surrounding neighborhood. I smile at familiar patrons, giving out free snickerdoodles to all the kids. I feel Aaron's stare but refuse to look at him. After his hateful silence yesterday, I don't have the energy to handle him anymore. If he hates me, so be it. Two can play at that game.