5. Olivia
Olivia
Waiting sucks. Especially when you’re all alone in a crowded diner. Dishes clattering. Waitresses running around, taking orders, pouring coffee, and soft drinks. The smell of it all hits me, and my stomach flutters with the need for caffeine.
And my best friend.
Crushing loneliness weighs on my shoulders. It follows me wherever I go. Despite Simon. Despite Jordy or this crowded diner.
I’m utterly alone with sharks in the water, circling their blood sacrifice.
Me.
My dark past continuously haunts me and drags me beneath the waves. I’m barely surviving. Knowing I’ll face the men who murdered me and laughed while I burned sends panic through my veins. It’s like every turn on campus or in this town brings me one step closer to failure.
Now more than ever.
JJ. God, JJ. The horror-struck look he gave me when he turned from the door and looked me up and down.
He knew.
I saw the recognition in his eyes before he could utter the word Spitfire or sign the name he gave me in ASL.
Now, they’ll all know who I am and seek to finish what they started.
My death is imminent. And Jonathan has signed my execution by forcing me to remain here. Or maybe it truly is his boss, the man completely in charge of Veritas, who never shows his face.
I rub my temple with shaky hands, trying to focus on the things around me. I wave down the waitress, and she pours me another cup.
“Thank you,” I rasp through the heavy emotions clogging my throat.
“No problem, darlin’. You waiting to order?” she asks, popping her hip out.
“Waiting for a friend,” I say, wrapping my fingers around the warm coffee cup and reveling in the heat.
She nods, taking off to another table, and says another waitress will be by to check on me when I’m ready.
I groan when the heat of my second cup enters my mouth and slides down my throat.
I need more coffee than this. By the gallons. Maybe a margarita. Or a damn vacation. I hear Jamaica is nice this time of year.
You know what? How about all three? I deserve everything after giving my all and still getting caught by JJ.
That fucker.
The how of the situation still sits heavily on my mind. How did he find me out? The shitty records—fucking Dave—or was my disguise not as good as I thought?
Damn it. I need backup. In the grumpy form.
He’ll be so thrilled to hear from me.
Olivia: Can you get me a new identity and a flight to Jamaica?
Carter: Weird as fuck question. No, hi, how are you? I’m good, btw, bored as fuck too.
I roll my eyes. Why is he always so bored? You’d think having a house full of people would keep him entertained. Not to mention running his company.
Oli: Yeah, hi, how are you? Now… Can you make me disappear?
Carter: It’s rude as fuck how much you underestimate me. I’m Carter Fucking Cunningham. I can make you disappear… Permanently, if you want.
Oli: Comforting to know you can make me disappear. And permanently? No thanks. Been there. Done that. Don’t recommend…
Carter: Just thought I’d throw that out there…
Maybe that’s the solution to all my damn problems. I need to flee. Fuck Veritas. Fuck this investigation.
I want to be free. Free of my responsibilities under Jonathan and the organization.
But what is the cost of this freedom?
Carter: Tell me why exactly I’m looking at flights to Jamaica for a chick named Noel? I’m bored as fuck, remember? Entertain me…
I sigh, staring down at the screen. Noel.
That’s not a bad name at all. I could live with that.
It reminds me of Christmas and celebrating with my mom and Sophia, with a small tree in the corner of the living room.
A few presents under the tree. Lights twinkling in the darkened room as ornaments hung.
Oli: My life is not your TV screen, fucker. Don’t you have 3 other dudes to torture daily? What about Kaycee? Go bug her.
Carter: Kaycee keeps me very fucking entertained. But she’s in class…and I can’t convince her to skip. And as for those other fuckers? I have my goddamn fun.
Oli: Ew. I shouldn’t have asked. She’s like my sister…
Carter: I could give you all the dirty fucking details, but then you’d get your goddamn wish of dying. For real.
I sigh, rubbing my tired eyes. The coffee isn’t touching the drowsy feeling prickling at all my limbs and begging for bed.
That’s all I truly want. My bed in the bunker, under the massive comforter.
My pillows. And my vibrators, too. Nothing says stress relief like a damn orgasm to forget my worries.
Like that one time in the bathroom with Malic.
He really fucked all the worries out of me.
But no. He has bad ideas written all over him. I can’t go there again.
Oli: Soooo I was…found out…one of them recognized me somehow. And I can’t leave.
Carter: Was it that asshole from the bar? Malic? I’ve been keeping my eyes on that fucker. He’s boring, btw. Nothing on his phone. At least this one. Found any other devices to keep me busy?
I have two options. Keep my lips sealed on what my case is or spill my guts to Carter despite his low clearance with Veritas.
I choose violence.
Oli: No…no other devices. I haven’t looked yet…
Oli: Would you believe me if I said I’m investigating my 3 ex-boyfriends? Who…happened to have orchestrated my death…
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, mentally begging Jordy to hurry his ass up to keep me company. I need my best friend to immediately agree with this bullshit order to go back to Greenwood University.
Carter: **Popcorn gif** Well…my life may be fucking boring, but yours is a goddamn soap opera. So…the ex-boyfriends, huh? You’re on the multiple-dick brigade, too? Fucking fascinating…
Oli: JFC! Carter. Ugh. Fuck off. I’m leaving this conversation now. I don’t want to talk about dicks with you. Like…EVER!
Carter: This ain’t a fucking airport… **bye gif**
Carter: Fuck it. I’ll keep my eyes peeled to see what I can find. It’s that porn-watching weirdo, isn’t it? JJ?
I can feel his evil grin from here. He’s probably typing all the information into his computer and spying on JJ as we speak, which is fine. I’d rather have someone looking into him who can track his every move.
Oli: I’m afraid to say yes…
Carter: Fucking got it. I’ll report back. But later. Kaycee just got out of class, and I have unfinished business with my goddamn Vixen.
Oli: Again…I don’t need to hear about all that, fucker.
And then… Nothing.
Carter really went to bang his girlfriend, leaving me alone with my ugly thoughts.
Ugh. If I could stop the anxiety building inside me every second that Jordy isn’t here, I would.
It’s unstoppable, though, ramping up and making my stomach turn.
By the time Jordy does arrive, I’ll have gray hair and a damn ulcer.
I blow out a breath, setting my phone on the table and finishing off the rest of my hot coffee.
Because nothing says let’s add more anxiety to your plate like copious amounts of caffeine.
Fuck. It’s not doing much for me right now.
Jittery? Sure. Awake? Not so much. Grime moves through my damn mind, weighing it down, and wishing I could go to sleep.
“Still waiting?”
I jump, whipping my gaze to a woman standing beside my table.
Talk about a heart attack. Shit. I put my hand on my chest instinctively, calming the spike of anxiety shooting through my veins.
A new waitress, I realize, stands by my table with her brows lifted, waiting for my answer.
You’d think I was an amateur agent with the way I’m jumping at every damn sound.
Smooth move, Olivia. Now, you look suspicious as hell.
No, it’s the fact that JJ, Hux, and Mack could find me at any minute and murder me all over again. Only this time, they’d make sure I stayed dead.
Wonderful.
Another worry to have in the back of my mind while I’m sleeping in a dorm room without a lock. I’ll have to fix that. Step one: add a new doorknob with a deadbolt. You know, since I have to go back and face the music.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckles softly, lifting a dark brow and grinning when I put my hand on the table. “I’m Mona, your waitress.”
Her moss-green eyes inspect my face, briefly stopping on the scars lining my flesh and then down my neck.
Something in her posture slightly relaxes, and a sense of wonder crosses her face.
It’s an expression I’ve seen before. The question is on the tip of her tongue.
What happened? Why do you have so many scars?
You see, some people wear their scars internally, never having the evidence written on their skin of what trauma they’ve endured. For me, my scars have always been on both. The worst is written on my flesh for the world to see. Internally? No one sees how badly I’m drowning.
“Do you want to order yet or…” She trails off softly, cocking her head and taking her gaze away from my skin.
“Sorry,” I sputter, realizing she’s been standing here talking to me while I’ve been stuck inside my mind. “Uh, yeah, I’m still waiting. Thank you. More coffee, please?” My voice comes out softer than normal, hinting at the fears I’m hiding inside me.
Will I be okay? Will they hunt me down and end me again?
Fuck. I’m going to have to watch my back.
“Of course. One of those mornings, right?” She gently takes the cup from me and sashays away behind the counter.
The other waitresses around her furrow their brows, but walk past with trays of food, hurriedly getting their patrons their food.
“Here you are,” Mona says, returning my steaming cup of coffee with a wink.
“Thanks,” I sigh with relief when Jordy pushes through the main doors and wrinkles his nose. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”
The waitress’s jaw tics slightly until she nods, shaking off her tension. “Of course! Take all the time you need,” she says, offering me another smile and walking away toward the counter.
“Psst! Hey!” I discreetly whisper, waving Jordy over.
Jordy’s nose wrinkles again as he looks around and slides into the seat across from mine.