Page 30 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

“I bet you’d pester me.” His smile widened.

“I would. A lot.”

He blinked rapidly several times and reached for his glasses. “Shoot, these are filmy.” He turned and wiped the glasses on the edge of his shirt.

The tattoo artist called my name, and I let go of James’ hand to go with him. It was a nice, clean shop. Nothing like the seedy place I’d gotten the ink done. The tattoo artist made me feel relaxed as he spoke at length about the removal. We discussed the process and began. I shut my eyes and tipped my head back. At least this was one regret I could reverse.

A while later, I returned to the front of the store, where James was patiently waiting for me.

“How’d it go?” He closed a design book that he’d been flipping through and rose to his feet to meet me.

“Good. Everybody makes mistakes, I guess. Just made mine early.”

He hugged me, careful not to press on my back.

“You’ll replace it one day. With something lovely,” he said.

And I smiled at the wordlovelyand at James.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

“Let’s celebrate.” I touched the thin bandage on my back as we left the tattoo shop. The removal had felt like a rubber band snapping at my skin, and I’d still need a few more sessions, but it was a good start, and I couldn’t wait to finish the process. “I want to take you dancing this weekend.”

“What?” James recoiled. “No, I’m not ready to dance in public.”

“Nobody’s grading you on it,” I teased, trying to calm his panic-stricken expression. “And it might be good for you to dance. I bet guys will ask.”

Why the fuck had I added that? I didn’twantthere to be other guys. My heart dipped. But wasn’t that the reason I was helping James? Just because my feelings were all over the place, he might still be picturing dating beyond me.

I was the warm-up, the second string. James could get top choice if he just let those other guys see how special he was.

If I cared for him, I should step aside. Be the bigger person. Wasn’t being less of a fuckup, becoming a better human the whole point? It was why I agreed to the “lessons,” wasn’t it?

James was oddly silent, his face shuttered. For somebody who liked to hurl words around for a living and share etymology, I didn’t care much for the silence.

“We can give it a go,” he said, still staring away from me, his shoulders slumped.

Maybe he was simply worried about not being a perfect dancer? James did battle his need for perfection and all.

“Great.” I forced enthusiasm into my voice.

Friday night arrived, and James met me at work. He stood in the break room, showing a little skin with a V-neck blue shirt and tight jeans.

I still had some of my gear on—black shirt, red suspenders, yellow pants—and his eyes widened.

“No need to change. You can go dancing just like that.”

I laughed at his bemused expression. “I don’t even have my helmet on. That’s the best part.”

After introducing him to Kamira and a few others, I hurried to shower and change. I’d brought my outfit to the station, knowing James was meeting me. As I soaped off, I thought about how good James looked.

I should have told him so.

I scanned my new outfit. James clearly liked my fire gear, which did show my muscles off, but I hoped he’d equally like this look. It was more formal than my usual club wear and definitely one of the few nice things I owned. I ran a hand over my outfit. I had on gray chinos and a casual blazer with a T-shirt. Of course, I liked looking hot and showing off my body, but tonight, I was going for… elegant, maybe? Like, okay, I was no professor, butI wanted to show James that I could wear more than sweats outside of work and actually clean up.

Oh, Jesus. This was not my fucking prom.

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