Page 6 of Manhattan Tormentor

What kind of moron does that make me if I find the guy—who bothers me—attractive?

Fuck me. I need a lobotomy.

Maybe this new desire has burned out some of my smarts.

I probably need a boyfriend.

Every time I see his smug face, I want to taste his fuller lip and tug on his stupid hair. I want to feel how hard his solid belly is and know the scent of arrogance from the dip of his neck.

I’m crazy to give him any thought when he does nothing but annoy the shit out of me. The guy is a pussy magnet, surrounded in girls trying to latch their stars to his confidence.

I’ll give him that. His confidence is off the charts.

I still hate him. Pushing the good-looking Neanderthal from my brain, I compartmentalize the trivial bullshit to put my time to my project.

For the next hour, I work on figuring out the ratio of electrical pulses.

My fingers are numb from random scribbles in my notebooks. Notes to myself to work on later at home when I don’t have the added noise of kids and bells ringing.

It’s when I feel heat along my arm that I finally look up from my work to see Chelsea smiling. Like I’ve invented the second moon.

I sigh because I know what’s coming.

It’s her one-woman crusade.

She’s a friendly girl who wears tight jeans and big boots. She makes me laugh with her anecdotes, she’s into comics and eats liquorice by the bucket load.

I wait for it and she doesn’t disappoint when she tousles my hair from its already unruly state.

Why are girls so tactile?

My sister is the same, always petting me like a poodle.

If I shoved my hands on some girl, I sure as hell would hear their complaints of sexual harassment.

“There’s the mad scientist, thought you’d be here.”

I’m in the lab most mornings, so it’s no massive shock.

“What’s up, Chelsea?”

“Well…” her eyes drift down to my lap and then she grins, “not you. We can fix that so easily, Sage.”

Yeah, there’s her one-woman campaign to straighten me out. That will not happen, and she knows it.

But it hasn’t stopped her from trying.

She’s harmless, if not a little forward, and like I said, she makes me laugh sometimes.

“How about we get out of here and hang out in my car?”

“For what reason?”

Oh, I know why. I play dumb in hopes she catches the message.

I don’t want to be cruel. Chelsea is one of the few people I kind of like.

She’s not a dick, or part of the crowd who believes they are school royalty. I feel sorry for her in a way. And that comes from a school outsider who never tries to fit in. People gravitate toward me anyway. I’m still trying to figure out why, because I’m nothing like Theo or Lachlan.

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