Page 2 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

But I didn’t get involved. That was my New Year’s resolution to myself. No emotional entanglements.

And it was only January first.

My eggs arrived with my bacon. Nice and crisp. I dug into my food. Sometimes I played the “what if” game. What if my dad hadn’t died so young? What if I never drank my first sour-tasting beer? What if my mother put in more than minimum effort? Maybe then I would be a relationship guy. ’Cause sometimes, I did get lonely. Oh well. I was to work on my sobriety, not solve unsolvable shit. Focus on the job and nothing else. Three years sober and finally in a job I loved—it was enough.

“I don’t dine and ditch. That’s horrible.” Miserable Guy’s harsh whisper yanked my attention back to the pair.

“Shut up,” Bored Guy shushed him, even as the waitress overheard. “I was joking?—”

“No, I don’t think so.” Miserable Guy had pure frost in his voice.

“Fuck you, man. It was a fun story. And it ain’t your business or nothing.”

“As an English professor, your ethics, as well as your grammar, are of great concern to me.”

Well, shit.

I had a weakness for delicate guys with some claws. It made me think about all the ways he could savage me in bed. He stood with his hands on his slim hips. Fuck, yeah, the guy was a professor. School me.

Bored Guy was not impressed. “You’re a weirdo, and I’m outta here. Good luck finding your quick fuck.”

Quick fuck? That did not seem like Miserable Guy. He had relationship type written all over him. I should know since I avoided relationships.

Bored Guy deliberately knocked his coffee mug as he left. It spilled over the baked goods on the table and then onto Miserable Guy’s tan slacks.

He jumped, but it didn’t seem hot, only staining. Miserable Guy lost all his spirit, unclenching his fists and slumping into the chair. His coffee cup was empty, the food ruined by the spill.

Not my business.

Avoid.

Donotget involved.

I ate a sliver of bacon before stealing another look.

Miserable Guy carded a hand through his hair, making it stand up in a messy cowlick. His expression was perplexed, as if entitled pricks on bad first dates needed explanation. He picked up the check, digging out money to pay for the ruined muffins and wasted java. His lower lip wobbled slightly.

Despite my vow, I stood again. And this time, I went all the way over to his table.

I held out some napkins. “Can I buy you another coffee?”

“No, thank you. I do love my caffeine, but um… I’m quite all right.” He paused and clearly gazed at my purple nails holding the napkin. They were goopy and smeared. But what could you expect from a six-year-old?

“I drink a ton of coffee, too. It’s practically a food group for me.”

He met my gaze with a weak smile at my bad joke.

For a second, there was a spark of energy between us, and I swear my breath caught. It’d been a long time since I’d felt much of anything.

I started to make my offer one last time, even as I used the napkins to wipe the mess Bored Guy had made, when Miserable Guy gasped.

“It’s you,” he exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. “As if my day couldn’t get any worse.”

CHAPTER

TWO

I knew him.

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