Page 13 of Nerdelicious
Shit. “I should go.” I step to the side, toward the backyard, and trip over something in the darkness, stumbling forward and he’s there, catching me before I fall. His hands grasp my shoulders, righting me quickly before releasing again. He shifts away just as fast, like he’s worried if he gets too close, I might throw myself at him again.
Can supreme mortification actually kill you?
In a haze of humiliation, I make it back through the backyard and then into the house without further incident.
“How did it go?” Annabel is like a meerkat, popping up in front of me before I can make it to the kitchen, her brown eyes wide and expectant.
“I need another drink.”
She smirks. “That good, huh?”
“I’m an idiot.”
She chuckles. “Come on, idiot, let’s play charades. I’ll get you a drink.” She leans in a little and sniffs me. “And maybe some water, too.”
I consider arguing, but I’m in no condition to drive. I follow Annabel to the living room and sit next to her on a rose-patterned love seat. A spring digs into my butt cheek, but whatever. A bruise on my ass is the least of my problems. Around me, a group of drunk and happy people play charades. I sit in silence, watching, wondering where I went wrong in my life.
How can I ever face Beast again?
I’m not sure how much time passes, but I’m tired and bed sounds more enticing than binge-watchingStranger Things.
“I need to get going,” I tell no one in particular. I push to my feet and head for the door.
Before I make it halfway there, a looming presence materializes in the kitchen doorway.
I startle to a halt.
Jude calls from behind me, “Beast will see you home, Fred.”
“I can make it myself.”
Jude shrugs. “He’s intending to stay the night at Granny’s anyway.”
I could fight it, I guess, but I don’t have the energy. Best to get it over with. Can’t avoid Beast forever. Can’t even avoid him for one night.
He opens his hand and I drop the keys into his giant palm.
Somehow, I manage to keep all my inane words to myself while we walk the dark and quiet block to Granny’s car.
He opens my door, which is awfully chivalrous, but I don’t say thank you. Can’t risk it. Once I open the hatch on my mouth, I might not be able to close it again.
He adjusts the driver’s seat back as far as it will go, then takes his time with the mirrors and is he trying to kill me? Finally, he starts the car. Then he drives with both hands on the wheel, at ten and two, eyes forward.
I lean against the window but tilt my head in an attempt to observe him without giving away that I’m staring.
The light of the dashboard gilds his rigid profile. The seat is pushed back as far as it can go, and still he fills up the space, not just with his breadth but with the force of his silent presence.
Even though we didn’t actually kiss, even though what we did—what I did—was horrifyingly embarrassing, there is a part of me that doesn’t want to run away, cowering in humiliation, although that might be the smart idea. He’s... intriguing. I want to observe him, like a scientist examining a new specimen.
My eyes trace his features. Strong nose. Hard jaw. He’s solid as a rock everywhere but his lips are soft and full.
What would they would feel like, if I actually kissed him? What he would be like, if I could entertain such thoughts? What would he say if he could?
I startle awake, heart pounding.
I’m not in Granny’s car anymore. I’m in bed. It’s dark, moonlight glowing through the soft white curtains. I fell asleep. How did I get here?
I’m still fully dressed, lying on top of the comforter, sans shoes but everything else is intact.
