Page 42 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

“But I’m afraid. Of losing…” James’ arms locked around my torso, his face close to mine. “Tell me it will be all right. Being with you makes me brave.”

“It’ll be all right.” I covered his hand with mine. “Win or lose, you can do this and hold your head up at the end of the day. ’Cause you’re too honorable to look away, no matter the cost.”

He sucked in a breath. “The way you see me…” He went quiet, his eyes still worried. “What if I can’t live up to it?” James whispered.

Raw with nerves, I could see James was still insecure. But he had plenty of fight, given something he cared about.

“You already have lived up to it and way beyond anything I ever expected.” I wrapped myself around him, sharing my body heat, and rested my head on top of his. “You only need to stop doubting yourself. Tell me about the books. The ones they wantto ban. Or even just the ones you love. Like poetry? I never understood that stuff. Why do you love it?”

James took a slow breath and pulled away to see my face. “Why do I love poetry? Lots of people feel like you do, I suppose. That they can’t get it. That it’s work to decipher. But to me… poetry is music. I don’t try to unscramble it so much as hear it, feel it. And the words. Their sheer beauty.” His eyes softened. “For me, poetry moves and flows with beauty that’s almost painful. It hurts and heals at the same time. At the center of the poem is truth-telling. A line will strike me dead center with its truth. And for a guy like me, who often feels disconnected from others, the poem is shared, generation after generation. Other people are feeling those same lines, reciting the same words. It’s deeply private truth yet somehow universal.” James sighed. “I just love it. The way another person might love music or art.”

I still didn’t get poetry, but his quiet words resonated with me. And James had stolen my breath with his deep passion. It wasn’t casual nor a quick distraction. When James committed, he did so in a deep, personal way.

God help me. I wanted to be his poem.

I dreamed for a minute of James speaking words about me that same way. With reverence. Commitment.

But I was nobody’s fucking poem. I was too rough around the edges. Not like James’ old boyfriend, Fake Harry. His ideal man. I wasn’t bad for screwing around with, but I wasn’t anybody’s ideal. I didn’t have the pretty words that James deserved. I wish I did.

Because for me? James was the poem. The thing that made life more beautiful.

Holy fuck.

I love him.

My palms began to sweat, and my pulse raced.

“I can’t share the poetry with my class if it’s not on this approved list,” James was saying.

I tried to focus on him and his problem, but it was impossible. He made me fucking come alive. I wanted to drag him home and show him how much.

“And that’s not all. I also can’t have them read so many of the novels that might make them feel, make them think. And I can’t stand that. I want them to have choices when they read. Explore different voices, find out which ones make them happy.”

He tugged at his beard. I loved that fucking baby beard.

“’Course, I wasn’t the only professor upset with her policies. I don’t know a lot of them too much, but maybe… Maybe I could call them or email? See if others want to fight it with me? Do you think they’d join me? Fight with me?” He paused, licking his lower lip. “Phin…?”

“Huh?” I blinked.

“What’d you think?” James raised his eyebrows. “About my asking other professors to join with me and protest the dean’s policies?”

“Yeah, it’s a good idea. Email them. Or better yet, knock on their office doors.”

James blew out a shaky breath, his shoulders still hunched with stress. “I’m going to do it. With them or not. Because no matter what, I can’t just look away and do nothing.”

“That’s the spirit! Fuck, yeah.” I kissed his cheek. “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.”

“Oh my God!” James huffed. “Have you been saving that line since we watchedDirty Dancing?”

“Cool, right? It was my favorite part.” I grinned.

James gave me a tiny, crooked smile in return.

I felt as if he carved that smile into my chest. I’d given up on a lot of things, but when James looked at me, with his eyes all shiny and that small curve of his lips, it tore me up inside. Thetruth beat silently in my heart. I would fight with him, fuck with him, live side by side with him. If those professors told him no, I’d only ever tell him yes.

Yes to everything he loved because I loved him.

Ginsberg whined, pawing at us.

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