The Temporary Virginity of the American Player

9. I Didn't Need My Pride Anyway.

Two weeks. I marked a big fat red X through August 14th. I had this in the bag. Two weeks and three more days without sex? I could smell the virginity in the air. There was no way I was going to lose this bet now. I was in it to win it now. I could hardly believe it had been two weeks. Now I was beginning to learn the tricks of the trade to coping without having sex. By the end of the month, I was going to be a pro at keeping my pants zipped. So next time I needed to zip my pants, I'd know exactly how to do it.

Not that I would want to. There was no way in hell I was going without sex for even a month and one minute. Uh-uh. I might last a month, but I was going to squeeze past by just a bare minimum, just enough to rub in Johnny's face and then go find Regina or Josie.

"Keeping track, I see," Joe yawned, shuffling into the kitchen.

"Hard not to when the word 'victory' is written all over the calendar," I said, capping the red marker and tossing it on the counter. "And you didn't think I could handle it. Ha!"

"Don't get cocky, my man. You haven't done it yet, though I'm impressed you've managed to make it this long without giving."

"Oh, ye of little faith," I mocked, taking my car keys and wallet off of the table again and searching for my sunglasses. "Do you wanna go to the café with me? I need a coffee."

"No. I have a gym date with a nice little blondie in spandex at the gym. Have fun drinking your coffee."

Did I not call it? Of course, he would go after spandex girl. Not that it would go any farther than a gym date. I knew Joe much better than that. Joe was never one to settle down or have a serious girlfriend, even if she did live for pumping iron. At least he had someone else to spot him. I would have held true to my previous threat and let the weight crush him, just to show him the love of our friendship.

Johnny had already left for his classes, likely nursing a hangover in the back of the classroom. After the night at the club, we hadn't lolligagged too much. As someone who wasn't much of a drinker, the bourbon had kept his face in the toilet for half the night. I'd stopped at the champagne and was pleasantly surprised by the lack of hangover, so much so that I'd even gotten up at a reasonable hour and made the poor kid some breakfast.

The café parking lot was almost full. I guess there was a mad rush on frappes. They better not have run out of my cappuccinos. I would kill.

Lena was working her tail off, taking orders with the high school kid and jumping over to the register to ring someone up. Her hair had been tossed in a braid, red lipstick bringing out the sleep deprivation in her eyes. You'd never think she'd quite literally rocked a whole club singlehandedly the night before. It looked like chaos; this place was never in chaos. Hmm...we had a lumberjack-like construction crew stuffing their face with sandwiches, a few old folks sipping on coffee, a group of chatty teenage girls that looked over at me as soon as I walked in the door, and a group of mom's catching up on weekly gossip. Guess who's booth was oh-so-conveniently free?

"Lena," I shouted from the door, and stamped my foot until I caught her attention.

"One second," she said, holding up a finger.

"Do you want me to complain to your manager?"

"Sit," she said, pointing at the booth without looking up from her register. She finished up with her line of customers and came over with her notebook, stress lines slowly disappearing from her face.

"Good morning, Lena," I said sweetly.

"Good morning, Nick," she returned, clearly unamused. "I see the assassins have failed."

"Probably because no one listens to you when you're not singing," I smirked, and she raised an eyebrow. "Nice performance last night. I felt like you were serenading me."