Page 1 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

CHAPTER

ONE

He looked miserable.

Poor guy.

Morning sunlight spilled through the diner’s large windows, spotlighting his halo of blond hair and stiff shoulders and his companion’s bright checkered shirt. Seemed early to me for a date, but it was one, judging by the overly rigid mannerisms. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to risk something as long as a dinner and settled on breakfast? Or their New Year’s had been so amazing together they didn’t want the date to end? I grunted at that. No way. This had “awkward first date” written all over it.

Whatever the reason they met for breakfast, the date was going downhill fast. Only the Miserable Guy, as I’d named him, kept trying to save it while his bored date had given the room a wandering glance.

My table, across the narrow aisle from the couple, gave me a front-row seat. I couldn’t pretend to scan a menu or anything since the waitress, busy with customers, hadn’t given me one yet. Not that I needed it. I always ordered the same scrambled eggs with a side of bacon and home fries. And a whole pot of coffee.

I’d been awake since dawn, and the stale doughnuts at my AA meeting hadn’t done a thing to stop my hunger or quell the nervous energy I had after those meetings.

Plus, watching the disaster of a date unfold was entertainment. My phone was on two percent, and I had nobody with me for conversation. Besides, I didn’t want the epic oversharing I’d endured for the last hour running through my brain. All those fucking stories… Listening at meetings was tough. I’d yet to open up at the meetings, much to my sponsor Rico’s dismay, but it was too fucking hard.

Miserable Guy spoke loudly anyhow, too loudly for the tiny diner that catered to the LGBT crowd around Phoenix, which liked to be cool and hip. So even if I hadn’t been spying on them, I would have heard some of his conversation. Miserable Guy wasn’t hip. Cute, in a buttoned-up kind of way, with thick blond hair, wire-rimmed glasses, prominent nose, and full lips… but not hip. The tension in his shoulders and neck, lines of strain fanning his eyes, and tight smile kept my attention on him.

The other man—who I’d named Bored Guy—was checking his phone, tapping his foot, a fake smile plastered on his face, which was unfair since it only encouraged Miserable Guy. Watching how hard he tried was painful. So painful I couldn't look away for a moment.

I’d rather watch Miserable Guy and root for him to turn the date around, although unlikely, than think about all the pain and loneliness in those meetings. They must have been sitting there for a while before I came in because there was a basket of muffins between them, some kind of yogurt parfait thing with crunchy granola, avocado toast, and coffee mugs. I was always noticing food, not that I cooked much. My dad had been a chef and would make up stories about what kind of person ordered this or that. He always said that those who liked spice liked life. And then?—

Fuck me. I reined my thoughts in, stopped bouncing my leg against the table.

God, it was New Year’s Day. This time of year justgotto me.

I played with my fork, tapping it on the table. Why did those little things still cling to me all these years later? Honestly, this was why sobriety was hard. I was no longer dumb and numb.

I wondered what type of person my dad would have labeled me. I looked like him, with my deep dark eyes and matching dark hair. I had his strong jaw, broad shoulders, and height. But what would he think of me as a person?

The waitress came over with my water.

The cool tattoos decorating her arm had names and dates that spoke of meaning, making me once again regret the generic ink on my back. “Waiting on anybody, hon? Or ready to order?”

“Just me. A number three, please. With bottomless coffee and some whole milk.” One day, I’ll replace the infinity symbol and the skull, things I picked at random as a teen—mostly to anger my mother—with something I actually give a fuck about.

“You betcha.” She gave a toothy smile, and then we both heard Bored Guy laughing loudly at a joke, a canned sort of laugh that made the waitress and I wince at the same time.

Miserable Guy’s laugh was sweet, with tiny snorts. Genuine.

I blocked him out and focused on my day. I had a shift soon that would go until late. I was tired from babysitting the past two nights, but Captain Sean Smack had taken a chance on me fresh out of firefighting training. I owed him, and watching his daughter, Erin, was the least I could do. She was a cute kid. If you consider missing teeth and constant hugs cute.

I examined my purple nails, compliments of Erin’s salon, and made a mental note to get some polish remover. Erin had giggled during our beauty session, and laughing with her was the first time I’d fully laughed in a long time.

My stomach tightened. Why was I obsessing over some stranger’s bad date in this diner or my lack of enough laughter? Crap, this was how meetings sometimes affected me, even ones I just observed. But especially ones during the holidays. Holidays were the worst. I hated them all, from Thanksgiving to Valentine’s.

I glanced at the other table. They wouldn’t make it to lunch, much less Valentine’s Day. Bored Guy checked the room and then gave me a wink. I knew the type. Entitled, confident, eager to have me fuck him. It suddenly felt important to scowl at the winker. Did he even notice his date was trying? Talking desperately, his voice actually rich and pleasant-sounding for a smaller guy but cracking with desperation.

Something in the cracking sound hit me. My whole body reacted to the sound. Something about that break in his voice was fucking familiar…

As if he sensed my interest, Miserable Guy looked over.

Like with the winker, our gazes met. But Miserable Guy did not wink. There was no flirtatiousness in his face. He had zero game.

Instead, bright blue eyes met mine, shining with intelligence and, yes, misery. He had a baby beard. Hell, I could grow more scruff in a day. It only made Miserable Guy seem vulnerable to me.

I stood before knowing what I was doing, ready to help… and then forced myself to sit. Something about the guy tugged at me. Okay, whatever… I saved my rescues for fires. If I saved anybody’s love life, it would be my coworker Caleb. His was even more of a disaster than Miserable Guy’s.

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