Page 60 of Cocky Nerd
Olivia
Oh shit, you’re going to murder me, aren’tyou?”
I’m half-joking, but the other half of me is convinced that the international man of mystery formerly known as Johnny B. Nerdballs is capable of anything: swoony one-liners, life-changing orgasms, impromptu Asian promenade slow-dancing, advanced Manhattan gala tux-wearing skills, effortless model ex-girlfriend crazy-making abilities, choreographer douchebag-withering sidewalk bravado, and sure possibly why not even murder of his best friend’s sister. I knew this was too good to betrue.
After spending hours on his own at the hotel room in downtown Cleveland, he has picked me up at my parents’ house, taken me to lunch, and then driven us, in this rented sedan, to an empty parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse instead of returning us to my parents’place.
He’s beingweird.
He was super weird at the airport in NYC, insisting that I go ahead and go through security to get settled in the first class lounge first, while he finished his call to Sanjay. Okay, it wasn’t super weird, maybe it was considerate. But it feltweird.
“I’m not going to, but youmight.”
“What are youdoing?”
“I’m going to give you a drivinglesson.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s ridiculous that you don’t know how to drive. It’s a basic skill in this country and you should have a driverslicense.”
“You can’t let an unlicensed driver drive a rentedcar!”
“That’s right. I’m breaking all the rules for you. Don’t hitanything.”
He parks, removes his seatbelt, and gets out of the car. I amparalyzed.
He opens the passenger door, but I am still staring ahead, stillparalyzed.
“It would be better if you get in the driver’sseat.”
“I’m not doingthat.”
“Whynot?”
“I don’t want todrive.”
“Whynot?”
“Because.”
“Really?”
“I don’t have to know how todrive.”
“You don’t want to know how todrive?”
“Nope.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So you’re scared. You didn’t have time to take drivers ed when you were in school because you spent all your free time at ballet class and you had no problem making your parents and brother drive you everywhere, and after that you were so busy being a professional dancer you didn’t have time to learn, and you probably just had guys driving you everywhere, and now you’re twenty-three and you’rescared.”
“I’m not scared. I live in San Francisco. I walk and I Bart and ILyft.”
“What if you one day live in an area that requires a car, like PaloAlto?”
