Page 21 of Cocky Nerd
“And no one’s telling you flat-out that you’re making a terrible decision that’s disrespectful of your family, exceptme.”
“I’mbeing disrespectful?You’retelling me that I’m being disrespectful?” Her face is now flushed. I wonder if her skin is flushed anywhere else. Her nostrils are flared and her chest is heaving. Why is it that a woman’s physical response to anger is so similar to sexual arousal? Or at least it is with the women I’ve beenwith.
I have to cross my legs. Her voice has always been husky-just-been-fucked, which was disconcerting when she was a child and is life-ruining now that she’s a young woman. No matter what she’s saying or how she’s sayingit.
“No one asked your opinion, Nerdballs. You know what—talk to me once you’ve secured post-college employment. And then talk to me again a month later after the person who hired you realizes what a terrible mistake they made. You havezerosocial skills. You havenoidea how to make someone like you, and youdefinitelyhave no right to talk to me about family—where isyourfamily?”
You have apoint.
“Jesus,O.”
“We’reJohnny’s family. We like you, Dear, we all do.” Mrs. Montgomery’s eyes look moist, bless herheart.
Mr. Montgomery exhales loudly and drops his napkin on the table as he stands. “Time to open another bottle of wine. Apologize to our guest, Olivia. Now let’s talk about something less provocative, like politics.” He retreats to thekitchen.
Her chest is still heaving. Her eyes are fiery and fixed on mine. If we were alone, I have no doubt that we would be tearing off each other’s clothes rightnow.
“It’s none of my business, you’re right,” I say quietly. “I just want you to have a good life, that’s all.” I don’t realize until I’ve said it out loud that it’s true. I suppose I should have started out by saying that. One day I’ll figure out these social niceties that people seem to put so much stock in. I’m sure I will. When I havetime.
Her glare has softened. Her lower lip twitches. Her shoulders hunch forward the slightest bit. She pushes her long wavy hair behind her ear on the side that’s closest to me. She so rarely wears her hair down. It makes her look more mature, and it’s one of the reasons I’ve felt tormented ever since I first saw her today. “No, you don’t have to apologize. I will have a good life. I mean I’ll be working really hard, but I like it.” Her voice is soft and sweet and completely different from her usual tone when she’s engaged in conversation with me. Now she’s only talking to me. Monty and his Mom are now talking about football. “I understand where you’re coming from,” she continues. “Trust me. It’s just different in the performing arts. I believe in following my bliss. I don’t question it. I do care about my parents—that’s why I’m going to Pittsburgh, so I can stay close and they’ll know I’m okay. But this is the life I’ve chosen. I don’t care about job statistics. I care about being the best dancer I canbe.”
I nod. “I didn’t say it’s not admirable. I just don’t think it’sprudent.”
“I’m sorry I said what I said about yourfamily.”
She reaches out to touch me—my arm, I suppose—just when I get up to go to the restroom again. Her fingers graze the bulge in my jeans. She jerks her hand away like she’s touched fire, and in a way—shehas.
Monty and her mother aren’t paying any attention to us. Olivia’s eyes lock on mine once she can tear them away from the length of my appendage. She blushes. I don’t. I stare down at her and own it.That’s right. I have a dick and it’s hard. I’m a young man who isn’t really a part of your family. Think aboutthat.
She finally looks away and I walk away from thetable.
“Aw dude—you still having stomachissues?”
“No,” I say. “Just staying hydrated. Be rightback.”
When I returnfrom the guest bathroom, I can hear Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery in the kitchen, arguing about which bottle of wine to open. Monty and Olivia are alone at the dining table. I pause in the hallway when I overhear myname.
“I mean Christ—don’t you have any friends thatdon’thaveAsperger’s?”
“He doesn’t have Asperger’s. And he’s the most loyal guy I know. If you don’t like him then I don’t see why you’re constantly talking to him and about him. It’s like you’re obsessed. You know what—if you paid more attention to guys like Johnny maybe you wouldn’t come home crying every night because some asshole doesn’t treat youwell.”
“Um. You’re saying you think Johnny B. treats mewell?”
“I didn’t say to date Johnny, obviously, I’m saying somebody more like him. But totallydifferent.”
I hear themlaugh.
“You know what Imean.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?” She has tried to keep her voice casual, but she doesn’t foolme.
“Not that I knowof.”
“I mean, he could even be attractive if he just took better care ofhimself.”
“You should definitely tell him that.” Montylaughs.
How do I take better care of myself? What does that even mean? I’ll be graduating MIT at the top of my class. How can I take better care of myself thanthat?
