Page 52 of Talk Nerdy To Me
“He’s a level one,” I remind her.
She frowns. “So? Everyone is level-one at some point, and it’s the responsibility of the upper levels to take on squires and train them. It’s rare to have a chance to interact in the real world, unless you already know each other.”
I don’t have any idea what to say to any of that without making myself sound like a jealous dick right now.
“I have no idea what any of that means,” Allie states flatly.
“Me neither, but now Tommy doesn’t sound as sexy as I was hoping,” Bella adds.
“I’ll go with you tomorrow. Level-One Squire Boy can sit at home and work on getting to level two,” I tell Britt, noticing the way she lifts her eyebrows like she’s confused.
“Any of this make sense to you?” Bella stage whispers to Allie.
“Still nada,” Allie quips.
“I can’t change my plans now,” Britt tells me, frowning. “Tria assured me it’s rude to give less than twenty-four hours’ notice before canceling.”
“It’s not rude. Just cancel,” I argue, at the same time Bella says, “Totally rude. You have to bring Tommy now.”
Why is this woman out to make my life hell?! When I glare over at her, she gives me a smartass grin.
“What the hell have I ever done to you?” I ask her very seriously.
“It’s what you’ve not done for Britt while getting your muse—” Allie’s hand abruptly clamps over Bella’s mouth, and she starts dragging Bella away.
“See you tomorrow, Britt!” Allie calls, then wrangles Bella back and gets her hand over her mouth again before she can get something of her own—probably the last word—out.
There’s actually a little bit of a struggle, before Bella finally shouts, “Not the nipples, you evil woman!”
Bella gets shoved into the car before adding, “Sheesh! You’re freakishly strong these days when you’re bullying a woman who is still recuperating from her body being put through hell!”
Motherfucking crazy rich people.
First, they have me questioning my resolve by flipping it to be a bad thing, making a motherfucking saint feel like the snake in Eden’s tall grass. Now they’re reveling in the fact Britt has a date, and I’m not so subtle with the whole jealousy thing.
But Britt, fortunately, doesn’t seem to deduce that as easily as they clearly did.
Grabbing her hand, I drag her inside the restaurant and change our order so that it’s to-go.
“Why are we leaving?” she asks as they finish bagging our stuff.
“No seats,” I tell her as I use my free hand to grab the bags, leaving the drinks behind, and start dragging her back to the car.
“But it’s mostly empty,” she argues.
I really regret taking her out in public now. I like it better when I have her just to myself.
