Page 3 of Cocky Nerd
“I deny it and I resentit.”
My day gets even better when I see Kennedy leave the restaurant with her father. She checks Hot Guy out as she passes by him, and pauses to look inside her purse, waiting for him to notice her. He doesn’t. He turns away from her. There’s so much to like about thisfellow.
He turns towards our window and notices the small crowd of us staring at him. We all immediately start talking to each other as if we’re having a staff meeting, then splitup.
I take a quick break to run to the ladiesroom.
By the time I’m washing my hands, I hear Franklin right outside the door calling forme.
“What?”
“Do youknowthatguy?”
“Whatguy?”
He lowers his voice. “Jizz In My Pants Guy! Tara said he asked to be seated in your section. Ugh, he’s probably some ballerinahounder.”
“Yeah, in my experience, they don’t really look likethat.”
“Go talk to him! Go! You luckyslut.”
I take my time sauntering over to the man’s table. He looks to be several years older than me in age, and at least a decade older in maturity level. He’s still in profile as I approach. Tara has seated him by the window, at a table that gives her and the wait staff a good view of him, will likely cause surrounding diners to stay longer and order drinks and dessert so they can look at him, and will no doubt attract new customers from the street. She’s very good at herjob.
And this guy is very good at being handsome. His fairly short wavy hair is the color of my favorite faded black T-shirt, his eyes are heartthrob blue, and the sum of all his features are nothing short of electrifying in thesunlight.
His eyes widen almost imperceptibly when he looks up at me, pupils dilated. He seems to catch his breath before a big toothy smile spreads across his face, transforming it. I am nearly blinded by his beautiful white teeth. I could stare at his face all day, I think. His eyes quickly travel down to my feet and back up again. I feel a slight tremor in mybelly.
And then hespeaks…
“Hey TinyDancer.”
I stare at him, his smile that has turned into a smug grin. That cocky, cockygrin.
“Johnny?”
John Brandt, my brother’s best friend. I’ve been calling him Johnny B. Nerdballs since I was old enough to know that he and my brother were nerds. I was about five. They werenine.
“You didn’t recognizeme?”
“You look…different.” I shift my stance, both feet flat on the ground, as if on some level I’m afraid of being knocked over. I don’t make a move to hug him, because I can’t think of one time we’ve ever hugged eachother.
“Yes, well. I finally started taking better care ofmyself.”
Growing up, I saw his face almost as often as I saw my brother’s, but he looks so different. He’s not wearing glasses now, which is significant. Being able to look into his intensely inquisitive eyes straight-on is unnerving, getting a full view of his cheek bones is disarming. Gone is the sallow skin, the dark circles, the layer of puffiness. He has the golden glow, toned skin and confident posture of the very rich. And he is—very rich. I don’t know the specifics, but he’s a tech founder and entrepreneur, verysuccessful.
My parents and brother have spoken of him and his success a great deal, whenever I visit them, but I’m so dance-obsessed I’ve never taken the time to look him up. I could tell you everything you need to know about Misty Copeland, but all I can say about Johnny is that he seems to have become exactly as awesome as he always believed he would, on a global scale. I was very happy to hear of his good fortune, but it never really occurred to me that we’d cross paths again, even though I knew he was based in Palo Alto. He wasn’t exactly supportive of my decision to become a professional dancer, so I suppose I wasn’t eager to get intouch.
Seeing him now, I’m suddenly feelinghomesick.
Seeing him now, I’m realizing that I’ve missedhim.
“Wow, what’s it been? Fiveyears?”
“More than five years,yes.”
“Right.” I haven’t seen him since he and my brother graduated from MIT. “It’s good to see you. How areyou?”
“I had dinner with your brother a week ago—did he tellyou?”
