Page 23 of Nerdelicious
You are not worthless.
I stare at the words in stunned silence.
I didn’t say... oh, but I did. Last night. After Dan/Dave/Dwayne took off, yelling about how I wasn’t worth his effort. I tried to repress those memories, but apparently Beast remembered.
It might not be Shakespeare, or Emily Dickinson, but those simple words wrench something free in my chest that I didn’t know existed until this very moment.
So of course I ruin it and talk without filter.
“I wasn’t laughing at you earlier,” I blurt.
His brows crease. Hmm. A reaction. Not necessarily a good one, but I’ll take it.
“When you got to Granny’s and I was coming down the stairs. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was thinking something funny, and you just happened to be there. My brain is weird, in case you weren’t aware.”
I can’t meet his eyes. I stare down at a hole in the board near my foot and trace a finger around it and the sound of the pencil scribbling on the paper gives me both anxiety and hope.
The notebook is thrust under my face and I take it, meeting his eyes warily before reading what’s on the page.
What were you thinking that was funny?
I bite my lip. I shouldn’t tell him, but I’ve never been a good liar.
“Honestly?” I hand the pad back and look up into his eyes.
He nods.
“I was imagining our lives as a musical.Hamilton, specifically. In my head you were sashaying across the floor and... it was funny in my head, but probably not actually funny, and I’m going to stop talking.”
Dear Lord. Kill me now. If there were mercy in this world, lightning would strike. The apocalypse would arrive to distract us both from my ongoing ineptitude.
I study the window. Through it, the sun is setting, the sky getting dark enough a star glimmers on the horizon. Chickens are still squawking and cavorting below. Who knew they could go on this long?
Eventually, Beast taps me on the leg and I startle at the contact.
He points toward the door. It’s silent. I peer out my little window. The chickens are gone.
He lumbers to his feet, hunching over and opening the door to go out first. I follow him down the ladder.
At the bottom, the final rung is set a few feet from the ground. I turn to look before I leap and Beast is there, arm extended.
After a brief hesitation, I take his hand. It engulfs mine, holding me securely as I jump to the ground. Warm. Strong. My breath catches on the descent.
I release him as soon as my feet settle on the ground. “Thanks.”
We pick our way through the leaves and branches and bramble to the path back to the house. The cicadas are buzzing, the sun is gone, and a soft glow on the horizon casts its final residue of illumination.
Once we reach Granny’s, he opens the door for me to precede him into the house.
I stop at the entrance and look up at him. “I’ll see you at work. Maybe.”
He nods.
I take a step but then stop again. “Did you apply for the assistant chef job there?”
He shakes his head.
“Why not? You’re on a culinary path, right?”
