Page 130 of Talk Nerdy To Me
“I need you buy me a plane ticket and send it to my email. The cheapest one you can. And I need it in like five minutes or less,” I tell him as I whirl into a parking spot.
“I’m assuming this is about Britt, and she’s more important than the song right now. Got it,” he says through a groan. “It’s bad when I’m freaking out worse about this shit than you are. It’s starting to scare me,” he gripes.
“Stop talking to me and order the—”
“Already did and sent. You’re welcome. Now I have to intercept Sticks and Taylor before they get us banned from the radio. This isn’t me, Base. This is what you—”
I hang up again, quickly pulling up my email, as I run toward security…
I stop when I see the line wrapping around, and I curse as I take my spot, wondering how quickly airport security would pounce and probe me like a suspected terrorist if I started shoving my way to the front of the long fucking line.
Everyone is casting me wary glances, and I smile tightly.
“They’re about to start boarding,” I say in deflection, still worrying about that probing thing.
Not only is it fucking terrifying, it’ll also probably take a really long time to finish, and Britt will probably be gone.
A text from Harley has my immediate attention.
HARLEY: They’ll stall her for another ten minutes, but then they have to take off to keep the airport schedule.
My phone rings, and I answer when I see it’s Randy.
“Did you stop her? Was it just like the movies? Are you on your way home to solve this crisis now?” The questions come at a spitfire pace.
“I’m still in the damn security line, so no, Randy, it’s not like the fucking movies,” I tell him as I get closer.
“Dammit,” he says. “Someone get the door and give me the phone. Neither of you—”
I hang up, and finally start making my way through security, not being one damn bit impatient or rude, avoiding the probe.
Then I sprint hardcore like every fucking cliché movie involving an airport that there ever was.
I almost trip over my feet when I see her in a nearly bare section, tucking her hair behind her ear as she types something onto her phone.
As if she feels me staring at her, her eyes lift and widen, and my feet start moving on their own, propelling me toward her.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I grab her at the waist and crush my lips to hers.
She kisses me back, her fingers tangling in my hair as she makes some pained noise. She pulls me closer and leans into me, before she abruptly pushes back. I can genuinely feel the fallout of her whiplash emotions.
I’m forced to break the kiss as she shakes her head, lips thinning.
“No,” she says, pushing her hand to my chest.
“I realize I’m messing shit up right now, Britt. But I don’t want to fuck this up—us. You’re literally all that fucking matters,” I tell her seriously as I step into her.
Her fingers squeeze against my chest, but I feel her resolve wavering, so I keep talking.
“I’m sorry I snapped. I’m sorry I took shit out on you. We can talk this out. It’s not a big deal—”
“I don’t want to do this right now,” she says quietly.
“How long are you going to be gone?” I ask, my jaw ticking.
“I volunteered to help Harley scout some venues so she wouldn’t have to be gone for three weeks,” she answers, like she’s summing up all the questions I could follow up with using as few words as possible.
“Then we really need to do this now, Britt,” I say as she just continues to keep that distance. “If you want to do this, I’m all in. I’ll get a real job. I’ll put on a fucking tie when you want. All the issues you have, I’ll fix them right now.”
