Chapter 10 Olivia
OLIVIA
My phone vibrates in my purse, a beacon for me to snatch onto to save me from this horrendous date.
At this point, I’m prepared to delete the entire dating app and risk the world alone.
There’s no way some of these men are real.
Is the universe pranking me? Is this karma for putting glue into a girl’s lip gloss when I was twelve because she wouldn’t stop verbally bullying me every chance she got?
I had to shut her up somehow and the only thing I could think was “she can’t talk if she can’t move her lips,” and honestly, I don’t regret it.
I’ll never apologize for sticking up for myself.
And this guy in front of me makes me wish I had a bottle of glue in my purse.
He’s already insulted my hair once this evening, and I’m sure he isn’t done. I would leave, just like I should have done before, but it’s important to me that I try my very best to not let people get to me. This man is making it very difficult to stay true to that.
“So have you ever thought about dying your hair? I’m not the biggest fan of redheads. Your face is beautiful. I think a light blonde would work well for your skin tone. I’m not trying to be offensive. I only want to be honest.”
I take a swig of my wine, doing my best not to lose my fucking nerve with all these people around. “That won’t be happening, Jared. I like my red hair. If you wanted to go on a date with a blonde or brunette, why didn’t you?”
He cuts into his steak, the table slightly shaking from the force of his knife since he ordered it well done.
Another red flag.
“I have other dates. I’m keeping my options open. Dating around, nothing serious.”
I scoop a bit of my loaded baked potato into my mouth; the warmth and buttery softness ease the anger building in my throat. I’m seconds away from yelling at him in the middle of the restaurant. I want to be better than that.
“Yeah, me too.” I take another sip of wine.
His fork and knife clink on the plate. Jared sighs, looking left, then right, clicking his tongue in agitation. “So…you’re wanting to whore around? Is that what you are? A whore?”
My eyes become wide, my brows rising in shock at his fucking audacity. “Excuse me?” I seethe, gripping the stem of my wineglass so hard, I think it might break. “I’m only dating like you are dating, may I remind you.”
He lifts a shoulder, shaking his head in disagreement. “I don’t agree. Women have the responsibility to not ruin themselves for when the perfect man comes along. A man like me, who is willing to provide, protect—”
“Demean,” I add. “You’re a hypocrite.” I down the rest of my wine and lift my glass to the waiter who was about to come to our table, signaling for another.
“I can’t stand men like you. You think you’re God’s gift to women when really, you are the reason why we would rather be single, but that’s not something you’re able to understand.
You aren’t smart enough to comprehend that.
So, Jared, let’s agree on something. We will sit here, in silence, finishing our meal.
I will pay for mine, you will pay for yours, we will go our separate ways.
I never want to hear from you again. I’m sure the women you’ll be seeing next will come to the same conclusion.
You’re a man threatened by the power of a woman and I don’t have time nor the energy for that. ”
The waiter takes the perfect moment to bring me a new glass, and it’s filled to nearly the brim. Oh, he knows this date isn’t going well.
“Thank you so much.”
“If you need anything else—” He turns his body toward Jared and speaks through a fake smile. “Please, let me know and I will do everything I can to make your meal here a positive experience.”
I know that look. He’s definitely trying to help me, to give me an out, to let me know I’m not alone here. I’ll be okay.
“Thank you so much.” I soften my voice so he knows I understand his message. “I will let you know if I need anything.”
He gives me a tight smile paired with a curt nod while side-eyeing my date. He keeps his hands behind his back, professional and polite as he strides to his next table. Every few seconds he looks over to check on me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, all too aware of my situation.
“That waiter was kind to you,” Jared practically sneers. “Have you fucked him?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Do you hear yourself? You really don’t see how ridiculous you sound, do you? If I did fuck him, which I haven’t, not that it is any of your business, why the hell would I tell you?”
“I’d say it is my business. I don’t want someone you’ve fucked touching my food.”
Oh my god.
How is this guy real? I have never heard so many ridiculous statements in one night.
My phone buzzes again, giving me the out I need to end this horrible date, but of course, Jared isn’t done. Without asking, he reaches across the table and stabs a chunk of the steak I precut and pops it into his mouth.
He wrinkles his nose. “It isn’t cooked enough.”
“I don’t remember saying you could eat my food.
You welcomed yourself. It seems no one has been mean enough to you in your life so I’m going to be the first.” I press my elbows on the table and fold my hands.
“You are a very rude man. In every sense. You think women owe you something, and we don’t.
Whatever mommy issues you have, you should go to therapy for them, because it isn’t my job or any woman’s job to deal with your unsettled emotions.
You will be alone for the rest of your life because no woman will deal with being spoken to in the manner you speak to us.
This is what I’m going to do—I’m going to get up and pretend I’m going to the bathroom, when in reality, I’m going to leave you here.
It seems you’d rather be on a date with yourself anyway.
You’re very egotistical. You think you’re better than everyone else.
You think you’re God’s gift to women when really, you are the biggest curse. ”
He’s red in the face, anger palpable, a vein popping in the middle of his forehead.
I stand, placing my napkin on the table, then snag the strap of my purse that’s hanging on the chair. “I’m going to go, Jared. You’ve been…an educational experience.” I hike my purse up my shoulder, the chain cool against my heated skin.
I’m livid. I need to get out of here before I do something I regret.
Like stab his hand with a fork.
He stands next, using his height to try to scare me. I put on a brave face. I won’t ever let a man walk all over me. Jared is very tall, though. His arms are long, a bit gangly, so he easily reaches across the table and ensnares my wrist in his hand.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Do you know how rude that is? To leave in the middle of a date?” His grip strengthens, his fingers squeezing the delicate bone so hard it begins to hurt.
“Let. Me. Go,” I seethe under my breath, not wanting to draw more attention than we already have.
“I will once you sit back down,” he warns, his eyes darkening with violence.
I have no doubt in my mind that he would hit a woman. He’s dangerous.
A few people begin to turn their heads to our table and the waiter who tried to help me is on his way from the other side of the restaurant, zigzagging his way through the tables to get to me.
“What the hell are you doing? Let her go!” Another woman stands from her seat, bringing more attention to the drama.
This is so embarrassing.
“Shut up and mind your business,” Jared says. “This is between me and my date.”
I begin to panic. My eyes dart everywhere, searching for something to get him to let me go.
With no other option in sight, I grab the wineglass, rear my arm back, and throw it.
The liquid leaves the glass like a wave, splashing onto his face.
It stuns him, forcing him to let me go. The crimson liquid pools on his button-up shirt, ruining it for any future dates he might wear it to.
That makes me happy.
He comes around the table, his hand raised in the air to hit me. But as he’s bringing his arm down, he’s tackled to the ground so hard, I hear the breath leave his lungs.
The restaurant is silent. There are no scrapes of silverware on the plates, no conversations murmuring, no clink of glasses. All eyes are on the scene unfolding. All I want to do is leave, go home, and forget this date even happened.
Do I keep trying after this? It’s only two dates, but I’m already sick of dating. Why is it so hard?
I step back, nearly tripping over the chair I was sitting in when the man who tackled him is on his feet first. He bends down, gripping Jared’s wet, wine-stained shirt to yank him to his feet. Jared is tall, but this man is taller.
Oh god.
It’s Dr. Carrington.
I hold my breath, watching anger stitch into his face as he shakes Jared.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, putting your hands on a woman?” he growls, the sound causing heat to pool between my legs.
“Fuck you for thinking you even have the right to breathe the same air she does, and then you have the audacity to put your hands on her? Let’s go. Get the fuck out of here.”
Dr. Carrington—Elias—drags Jared through the restaurant, bumping tables. “Apologies. Sorry. Just cleaning up the space.” He gives everyone a kind smile while Jared tries to dislodge himself from his hold.
I always love when a man becomes a protector.
Great, now I’m crushing on the new doctor.
“Olivia. Jesus, are you okay? We came from the bar as soon as we saw.”
Dr. Warrick’s voice has me turning my head. I’m blinking at him, surprised that he’s here. That they both are here. This is even worse. My boss just saw the worst date of my life and Dr. Carrington tackled him to the ground.
The waiter opens the front door, allowing Elias to toss my date outside as if he weighs nothing.
I shouldn’t be attracted to that. I shouldn’t, but I am. I very much am. My crush solidifies. Working in the same space as Elias will be difficult going forward. He’s just my type too.