Page 125 of Talk Nerdy To Me
“Why have you been avoiding me?” Sticks calls to her back.
She drops my boxes on the porch and turns to cut her gaze at all of us.
“I don’t blame any of you for not considering crowd control as being an issue. It seriously doesn’t sound like a threatening situation. I get it.”
She starts walking back to the car, pulling on her sunglasses as she goes.
“But I realized something while you all sang and I was being trampled, and that’s that I was with a bunch of people I barely knew. I was worried no one at all would care enough to look for me or even realize I was missing, and crawled my way to Britt, because I knew someone would come for her. She makes damn good life decisions and shows gratitude to people when they’re thoughtful and caring.”
She tosses out another one of my boxes into the yard.
“I, however, am a fucking flighty mess that just gets forgotten, and it’s my own damn fault. Despite what you think, the Sterlings aren’t assholes for not including me; I’m the asshole for never showing up. Britt isn’t some little shiny trophy they wave around and program; she’s a girl boss in charge of her own life.”
She tosses another box a little harder.
“She’s fucked up and deals with her shit the best she can, which is more than I can say for any of you. When you fuck a girl and ask for another’s number the very next day, you’re not entitled to a call back. You’re entitled to being fucking ignored,” she says, apparently no longer yelling at me as she cuts her gaze toward Sticks.
His rigid stance relaxes just a little, and his lips thin like he’s finally catching on.
“That was just a random girl, and I asked for her number so she wouldn’t realize I was blowing her off by walking away in the middle of her pick-up routine,” he says like he finds Krysta cute for being jealous. “Girls can be overly dramatic when rejection is involved.”
She rolls her eyes and tosses out another box.
“Doesn’t even matter. No offense, but the bad boy rocker type who pockets a girl’s numbers to prevent the hassle of turning her down is no longer mytype. I want the type of guy who drives for hours to be there because he’s worried about things like crowd control and he cares so much he acts a little crazy,” she says to him, and then looks around at all of us again.
She tosses out my last box, and starts shutting all her doors.
“More importantly, I want to be the kind of girl who deserves a guy like that, so I’m concentrating on fixing my mess instead of expecting someone to swoop in and fix it for me.”
She gets in, cranks her car, and rolls down her driver’s side window.
“Have fun being so much better than everyone,” she adds before spinning out in reverse and driving off in what must be a brand new Mercedes.
“I never realized she could be such a bitch,” Randy says as he stares after her, then whistles as he looks down at all the boxes haphazardly lying around the small patch of yard we have.
“Fuck this,” I say before going to my truck and driving toward Britt’s.
The drive over is a blur of me processing Krysta’s crazy ass rant.
Britt’s walking out when I pull up, and her eyes widen in subtle surprise before she directs her focus toward her car and starts walking faster than she was.
I hop out of my truck and block her path just before she reaches the door.
When she releases a long breath and swings her gaze up at me, there’s just deadness in her eyes. Like I’m already taking up too much of her time.
“Did I forget something or not pack it to your satisfaction?” she asks with a chillier tone than she’s ever used with me.
It’s not cold or cruel; it’s just a pleasant, fake tone used for strangers. Even when she just knew me by reputation she didn’t treat me like a stranger. I’ve taken that for granted until this moment.
“I have no idea how you packed it. I don’t deserve this shit, Britt. I asked you to fucking date me, and you needed a side-panel with the Sterlings before committing to an answer. I’m not the bad guy,” I remind her very seriously.
“I’m not assigning blame, and I’m sorry if it seems that way. Only four boxes have fragile items,” she says as she tries to reach around me to open her door.
I step into her arm, and she jerks back like she’s been burned before clearing her throat and staring directly at the ground.
“So just like that? I still don’t know why you’re doing this, and you’re really going to keep acting like I’m the asshole for wanting to be with you. That’s all I did, Britt.”
She nods. “I know that’s what you think. It’s one of our many consequential differences. We see things from vastly different perspectives.”
