Page 56 of Talk Nerdy To Me
“Who is Sean Young?” Base asks, leaning over me like he can learn more if he’s closer to the screen.
Before I can answer, another message box pops up, but this squire is one I know immediately.
We still on for tomorrow? I forgot I still don’t have your number.
Quickly, I type in my number on the message box, and reply with, yes to tomorrow.
“Is that Level-One?” Base growls.
“It shows you he’s a squire right beside the user name,” I point out, literally. My index finger almost touches the screen as I point to the squire box. “All squires are on level one.”
He scrubs a hand over his face before exhaling harshly.
“You’re still going with him tomorrow?” he asks incredulously.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask, sincerely confused by how irritated he seems.
“We just kissed,” he says as though it’s obvious.
I bristle, certain he’s not implying what I think he is.
“Tommy and I are friends,” I remind him. “And I’m not sure what a kiss has to do with anything, considering you kissed another girl right after you kissed me the last time.”
Oh. So this is why people insist on being petty. It’s sort of…empowering, in a very immature, brash sort of way.
But for the first time since I admitted I was scared, I meet his eyes on my own, and he’s unquestionably glaring at me.
“She sucked on my fucking nose. I did not kiss her. But you’re willingly going on a date tomorrow, after we just had a very intense, intimate moment, and without a doubt he’s going to be all over you,” he says, his voice getting a little louder.
“Not that it should matter, but I have no intentions of kissing Tommy. As I stated, we’re just friends.”
He points between us. “So are we, and we still kissed,” he says, then darts to his feet, and storms out like he’s genuinely angry.
At me.
Like I’ve somehow betrayed him.
Which makes no sense, since Base has assured me we can’t be together, and has now proven I’m not even as ready as I thought I was.
Closing my laptop, I go after him, feeling my own ire steadily rising with each step of progress I make. By the time I reach his door, I’m reeling in my own emotions that could just cause this situation to escalate.
I open my mouth to say something practical, smart, and logical, but he’s already back down to his boxers and staring at his ceiling while lying on his bed. Why is his body so distracting?
His eyes dart to mine, narrowing on me.
“We’re not friends! Friends don’t straddle other friends’ legs!” I shout, having no idea why that’s the particular line that shoots through my lips like a poisonous dart.
At his confused expression, I turn and dart out.
This time, he doesn’t follow.
