Page 39 of Talk Nerdy To Me
“Who do you think?” he asks, eyes flicking to Randy.
“I fucking hate him some nights,” I say too low for anyone to hear over the steady thump of the loud music.
“It’d be different if it was a squad of different girls all over the place throwing themselves at us. But when it’s the same five every time, it makes it look like we can’t get anyone else to stalk us.”
“That’s not at all what I meant,” I point out dryly.
He just grins, but Britt distracts us by literally yelling. “I need to urinate!”
I release her hand, stifling a laugh, then nod as she warily looks through the throngs of people.
“I’ll grab us some drinks,” I call after her.
She waves a hand behind her, letting me know she heard, as she starts needling her way through the crowd.
Taylor is almost immediately back, sans the girls he helped to drag away, and yells, “I bought us just enough time for you to tell me what’s going on between you and the Sterling girl, so I can know what sort of moves I’m allowed to make.”
I turn an incredulous look on him.
“You better be joking, and we’re just friends. Well, that last part is in progress.”
She seems more at ease with letting me use her house as my crash pad while the muse is active, even though we just met. She’s perfectly cool with me splashing her face on the walls, even though I admit that makes me sound like a creep. But she struggles with the concept of being friends?
Every time I think I have some idea of how she ticks, I’m left reeling again.
“Right. Friends. Always works out well when you want to fuck friends,” he says in mock agreement.
“She’s a virgin,” Sticks says a little too fucking loud.
Taylor groans, then shakes his head. “Damn. I really thought that was all bullshit. You’re an ass if you do anything then. Got it.” As I move to the nearest bar to order some drinks, Taylor adds, “Do us all a favor and don’t piss off the Sterlings while we’re living in Sterling Shore.”
I say nothing as I sip my beer, staring over the rim of it as I search the crowd, wondering when she’s coming back.
Sticks and Taylor start talking about the music I’ve been writing, Sticks mostly relaying what little I’ve shared with him.
When I catch a flash of red hair, my beer pauses at my lips, and I slowly lower it as I stare at Britt. Drinking is probably a terrible idea. Even sober, I’m actively having to remind myself in mantra that she’s a motherfucking virgin.
She’s girl who is naïve enough to believe she can lose her virginity and have no emotions.
A girl who literally asked me to help with her ‘hymen issue.’
“Motherfucking saint,” I mutter to myself as she dances with the same confidence she walks with.
“You only have a small shot with her because the amount of rejection she’s faced has substantially lowered her self-esteem,” Sticks tells me like it’s his duty to inform me of such.
“You’re a better man than me,” Taylor says when his eyes follow mine.
“He’s really not. He’s just telling himself that,” Sticks says, the fucker sounding much too amused. “Guess urinating freed her bladder up for all that dropping low. Imagine if she had kept on the dress.”
I really don’t like either of them imagining that. At all.
The bottle almost slips from my hand, and I barely catch it, as an image I really don’t need right now creeps into my own mind.
“This evening should be entertaining,” Sticks adds while literally rubbing his hands together like the evil villain after his mwahahahaha laugh.
“I think life was easier when he thought she was gay. Hell, he kissed her like he was on a desperate mission to actually try to change her world,” Taylor snorts, earning a glare from me.
When my eyes go back, the bottle does slip from my hand, shattering to the ground and causing Taylor and Sticks to leap back.
