Page 50 of Talk Nerdy To Me
Chapter 17
BASE
“Tell me something no one else knows,” I say to her as I drive her car.
I’ve decided to leave my truck at my place until the Sterling men organically learn how outrageously and inappropriately I’ve inserted myself into her life.
Not that I’m scared of the Sterlings, but…I’d like to delay being punched by a Sterling for as long as humanly possible.
“I used to eat crickets,” she deadpans in answer to the question I forgot I asked. “I only stopped because people found it disgusting.”
I miraculously choke back any sound. “If people thought it was disgusting, then clearly someone else knows that.”
She taps her chin as though she’s thinking. “Dane didn’t blink.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
She shrugs as she props up on the console, bringing herself closer to me as she stares ahead and speaks.
“When he found me, I was…far more socially inept than you know me now—”
“I wish I had known you then,” I interrupt, keeping one hand on the wheel as I tug a strand of her hair with my other.
“Not really. It was sometimes hard to focus on a person and think, while also…appropriately communicating with said person unless I was simply reciting rehearsed conversation. I spent an unfortunate amount of time vocalizing arguments that should have been kept internalized, as well,” she says, eyes distant like she’s thinking back.
“It didn’t take him long to start sorting me, when no one else had managed to do it for so many years.”
I don’t say anything much before brushing her hair out of her face and to the side.
“I still try to avoid conflict unless resolution is necessary to move forward,” she adds as her eyes move back to mine. “I have a favor to ask.”
My thumb strokes down her cheek.
“Name it,” I say quietly, feeling the intense air around us.
“I don’t like revisiting my past on command,” she says very timidly.
My thumb freezes and my eyes go to hers.
“I realize it’s a respectable rudimentary bonding mechanism to share one’s life story within a friendship, but I will never do that. I say that with full certainty. I never actively think about it,” she goes on. “I’ll share small pieces at my own pace when I find it relevant to a situation at hand. But I’ll simply continue to be vague and intentionally elusive about it. I don’t like the sense of loneliness that accompanies those memories.”
We just sit still in the parking lot for a few seconds while I toy with the ends of her hair.
“I’m telling you this because I see it as a probable future point of conflict I’d like to avoid,” she adds when I just study her, my gaze raking over her face.
“That’s perfectly fair,” I tell her, my eyes dropping to her lips.
She gives a nod and turns to push her door open before stepping out of the car. I take an extra second or two to follow suit.
I hurry to open the door to the restaurant for her, but two girls walk out and pause when they see us…as though they’re frozen in surprise.
“Britt!” one of them says very loudly…but I don’t have Britt’s memory, so I can’t recall her name or how I know her.
“What are you two doing here?” the other one asks, her brows drawn tight as she looks between us like she’s confused.
“We’re hungry,” Britt states as though it should be obvious, and I bite back a grin.
The other chick also restrains a smile.
