Page 29 of Talk Nerdy To Me
Chapter 11
BASE
How have I not met Britt Sterling sooner? Were they deliberately hiding her from me?
Her fucking eyes dance with so much emotion she doesn’t express in any other way, almost as though she doesn’t know how to. I’ve been looking into people’s eyes for years, and never once stumbled across this much closet emotion.
The only thing interrupting this is the persistent banging on my door. When I try to simply ignore it, it finally swings open, and I glare over as Sticks walks in, grimacing.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the other Sterling girl is sick wasted, and she wants to get out of here. I told her not to play a drinking game with Taylor, but she was persistent.”
Britt hurries off the bed, and I stand, grabbing a shirt to pull on as well as my guitar. I’m not ready to give her up just yet, because the music is playing in my head with so much of a buzz that I can’t even consider losing the muse.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself, because I should not be following Britt Sterling around for any other reason. She’s way out of my fucking league.
The virginal princess with an army of very powerful people who would gut me if I hurt her…then ruin my career…should also be a red flag.
I make it outside to see the drunk girl in question being propped up by Taylor, who nods toward us as he gives me a tight smile. “I would have taken her home, but she needs someone to stay with her until she’s hydrated and sober. Figured she’d prefer a friend over a random guy at a party,” he explains.
Britt blinks. “We’re not friends. This is the first time I’ve gone anywhere with her. Should I call someone else if a stranger will make her uncomfortable?”
The uncertainty on her face has me shoving my guitar at Sticks. “Put this in the back of the car she drove. I’ll take them both home.”
Sticks glances between me and Britt warily, but I don’t say anything as I scoop Krysta up, hoping like hell she doesn’t spray puke in my face when she lets out a pitiful groan.
“Fuck’s sake, Taylor. What was she drinking?” I ask as I carry her down the steps.
He follows close behind. “Just the vodka. But she said she hasn’t done any drinking in a while. Sorry, man.”
Sticks gets my guitar put in the trunk, as Taylor helps me put Krysta on her stomach in the back seat. Britt just follows, looking like she has no idea what to do.
“Britt, what’s the best way to handle a drunk person?”
As if on autopilot, she answers robotically. “Continually monitor the drunk person. Check and monitor breathing. Make sure intoxicated person does not slip from a state of sleeping to unconsciousness by waking them often. Contrary to popular belief, ‘sleeping it off’ is not safe. Ensure drunk person sleeps on their side with a pillow—”
I tip her chin up with my fingertips, and her words cut off. “I’ll help you. Come on.”
Her entire body visibly relaxes, and she climbs into the front seat while I go to the driver’s side.
Krysta pukes on the floorboard the second I climb in, and I immediately roll down the windows while fighting my gag reflex. Britt doesn’t even make a face.
“At least it’s her car,” I say as we start backing out.
Britt looks over at me, a blank expression on her face. “I should call Maverick. He can help. Or Corbin, since he’s her half-brother.”
“We can handle a drunk girl,” I tell her. “Handled plenty of drunks in my time.”
“Then why did you ask me to tell you how to care for—”
“Because I wanted you to know you could handle it too,” I interrupt, smirking when she studies me.
“I hate vodka,” Krysta groans from the back.
In the next second, she starts snoring.
“Did she pass out or is she just sleeping?” Britt asks, sounding a little too worried.
“Relax,” I tell her. “If she’s puking, she’ll be getting most of it up. Trust me.”
