Talk Nerdy To Me (The Sterling Shore Series Book 13)

by C. M. Owens

  A small groan bubbles out of me as I glance over her again, taking her in with a completely new eye.

  “My new outfit that Harley made me,” Britt answers, genuinely smiling as she innocently models it for him.

  “I’m going to kill the queen,” Dale grumbles beside me, still glaring at Britt. Then frowns. “Wait, you two know each other?” he asks.

  I start to speak, but Britt beats me to it.

  “Barely. We met yesterday. I should get going.” Her eyes flick to me, then down at my wardrobe. In an unimpressed, flat tone, she adds, “The Game Master will ask you to leave if you’re wearing that.”

  Then she walks right by me like last night never even happened.

  Like she isn’t wearing a wet-dream costume—apparently I’m a closet nerd, because I’m debating putting on tights just to stick around and see what she does.

  About five guys stumble over themselves to chase after her, but she doesn’t even notice as she walks with tunnel-vision toward the queen. Not surprising, since she’s into women, not men.

  That’s something I didn’t know about Britt Sterling. Then again, I don’t read the socialite section—also known as the gossip columns—as often as most Sterling Shore peeps.

  There’s a guy being carried in on a throne with at least ten guys of all sizes shouldering the horizontal platform as he’s brought alongside the queen. A man-powered carriage of sorts…

  “Shouldn’t you be the king?” I ask, trying to mask my amusement.

  “I’m a human squire,” he says on a sigh. “I have to work my way up to elven king. Please. Fucking. Go. Away. We’ll discuss how you know Britt later.”

  “We can discuss it now. I met her last night at Silk, and I was into her until I found out she was gay.”

  He snorts, then chokes back a laugh. “Right. Very gay,” he says, though he’s smiling in a way that makes me suspicious.

  When I just arch an eyebrow at him, making no move to leave, he makes a frustrated sound.

  “I’m still confused about what’s going on, and I’m not leaving until someone fills me in,” I decide to say.

  “Land of the Lost Lore,” Dale answers, turning toward me. “It’s the name of Harley’s current biggest web-based game, and she just released the newest levels. She does these LARP sessions to get people excited, and because she likes wearing a crown and prosthetic ears and, you know, leading a lore cult. Now that you know what’s going on, will you please fucking leave? In about five minutes, they’re going to make us talk in certain ways, and certain words will be prohibited. I’d like for there to be as few witnesses to this as possible.”

  “Can’t imagine why,” I state dryly.

  A guy who defies all nerd clichés walks by in an outfit similar to Dale’s, normal ears and all. I’m not surprised when he goes straight toward Britt.

  “What’s Britt supposed to be dressed like?” I decide to ask. “And what’s that guy talking to her?”

  Why is she laughing? What’s he saying that has her laughing like that?

  Dale is already narrowing his eyes on the scene, which confuses me.

  “Britt is a Valkyrie princess. You earn your spot based on your game level. The guy is a level-one, mortal squire, like me. Those are the guys who come here to hit on the hot nerd girls since being nerdy went mainstream.”

  He starts to walk away, but a short guy in a wild headdress and some weird, leather clothing stops in front of him, clipboard in hand and bugle hanging on his hip like a weapon or something.

  “User name and level,” the guy says without looking up.

  “Squireboy-seven-four-two-three,” Dale mutters, casting a glance toward me when I choke back a laugh. “Level one,” he adds, turning his attention back toward the short guy.

  The guy peers up, scanning Dale with an unimpressed expression. “Figures,” the guy mutters before stepping in front of me.

  He starts to speak, then his eyes narrow when he sees me.

  “Out! This is for Land of Lost Lore participants only!”

  Dale is the one choking back a laugh now when the hostile little man pulls up his bugle and blows it loudly. Right in front of me.

  Fucking hell.

  Cursing, I cover my ears, wincing when it wails again.

  “Intruder! Intruder!”

  Britt’s eyes swing in my direction as I back away, grinning in disbelief. I have to drop my hands from my ears to grab my guitar case, and the evil dick pounces.

  The bugle wails loudly again, and Britt seems to hide her smile as she turns and walks away.

  “Intruder!” the man shouts again.

  When five possible ogres start heading toward me, I turn and jog away, carrying my guitar out of the park that is now manned by security, who is halting anyone not dressed appropriately from entering.

  Britt fucking Sterling.

  Unbelievable.

  My mind is too boggled to try writing, so I go home to the loud house where the party has already started.

  Sticks practically greets me at the door with a huge smile on his face.

  “We partied with a Sterling last night and didn’t even know it,” he groans.

  “Just learned that myself,” I say with a tight smile, deciding not to elaborate as I drop my guitar and start pulling up the gossip columns I know about.

  I’m sinking low, but my head’s still spinning.

  “I knew she looked familiar,” Taylor says from a seat in the kitchen as he mixes drinks.

  Sure enough, Britt Sterling’s picture is in the socialite section. It’s showing her from last night, talking about how the virgin princess Sterling manned the city’s infamous Silk…

  Virgin princess?

  “There’s a better site that mentions her leaving with you and wondering if you were going to pop her cherry,” Sticks says with a grin.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I ask, confused as hell.

  “Any publicity for us is good publicity,” Sticks goes on, as if that’s the confusing part.

  “You said she was gay,” Taylor tells me, sounding like he’s accusing me of something.

  “She’s not?” I ask, a new smile forming on my lips.

  “No, she’s a virgin. A legit virgin, who is obsessed with popping her cherry. Man, I’ve been following that story, expecting the girl to be a complete clinger or batshit crazy. I’m struggling to understand now why she’s a virgin, since she’s working so hard not to be one,” Sticks groans. “Why’d you have to see her first? Why is she one of those people who looks really different in real life than in a picture? I knew she looked familiar.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I say again, my smile gone and replaced by confusion once more.

  Seems to be the theme of the day.

  “She’s been trying for like two or more years, to pop her cherry,” Taylor explains, waggling his eyebrows. “But so far, no reports of any takers.”

  Scratching my jaw, I shake my head. No way in hell am I taking her virginity. Surely she’s not really a virgin. That’s just some sort of PR spin or something for the Sterling family. Has to be.

  It feels like cheating, but Britt Sterling is becoming a mythical creature right now, and not because of the elf ears. I feel like I need to know who the hell this girl really is.

  I blame writer’s block for all the creepy shit I’m about to do.

  ***

  After feeling like I’ve thoroughly violated her privacy by reading the numerous gossip tidbits—this town is obsessed with Britt Sterling and her obsession with losing her virginity, apparently—I sit back.

  All her friends seem to be friends of her brother’s. She grew up with nothing, though there’s very little on her background other than the fact she was essentially homeless when Dane found her.

  Studying a picture of her from one event, all I see is a girl with a fake smile and sad eyes, as though she’s trying her best to blend in instead of stand out.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I can’t help but wonder
why she doesn’t have any friends of her own. Why she’s an unwilling virgin. And why she’s smiling with sad eyes.

  Then…for the first time in months, despite the loud party going on and the shrieks and squeals, I feel the stirrings of a song form with ease.

  Which means I’m about to get really fucking creepy. I’m going to get punched by a Sterling before this is all over. Odds aren’t in my favor.

  Chapter 10

  BRITT

  “So, did he get your number or anything?” Harley asks me.

  She volunteered to help me with my paper when I talked to her about it yesterday before the Lore Games. Then she mentioned seeing Base Masters in the park. And…I’m not sure why I told her about the random kiss or the party. But I did.

  And I’m starting to regret that, because she’s way too excited for no reason at all.

  “No,” I tell her on a sigh. “Can we stop talking about him?”

  Her lips purse. “He was staring at you the majority of the time before the Game Master kicked him out.”

  Why does my stomach do weird fluttery things the second I hear that? Why do I squirm uncomfortably every time his name is mentioned now?

  They’ve talked about Base for a while, and until meeting him, I had no physical reactions or involuntary curiosity.

  I’m scared to ask Harley what’s going on with me, because it’s clearly as simple as having a crush. Which will make me…an idiot.

  And everyone seems to think I’m smart just because I have a great memory and can recite facts. Never mind that the facts never aid in moving conversation along the way I intend for them to do.

  “Earth to Britt,” she groans. “Seriously, do you like him? Because I think he’s into you. It’s hard to get some guys to appreciate a girl with elf ears.”

  Again…the flutters.

  Fortunately, my door swings open, interrupting this conversation. I’d like to talk about anything other than Base.

  “So how do you know Base Masters?” Dale asks as he steps into my house without knocking.

  And…here we go again.

  I focus my attention on the outline of my new draft, since Harley is supposed to handle Dale.

  “Hello to you too,” Harley says from beside me. “And knock before you just walk into someone’s house,” she adds, smirking when he rolls his eyes.

  “What’re you working on?” Dale asks.

  “Sex paper,” Harley tells him seriously.

  My phone chimes with a text, and I look at it as the two of them talk about ‘what the hell a sex paper’ is, and ‘what the actual fuck it has to do with Base Masters.’

  “The two aren’t technically linked,” I point out distractedly when I start reading my text from the unknown number.

  I got an invite to a party that I’ve been wanting, but can’t attend unless I bring Britt Sterling. So…I know this is weird, but do you want to go to a party with me tonight? Btw, this is Krysta.

  I start to tell her no, because the last party I attended outside of my family’s circle was great…until it wasn’t. Not to mention, even though she’s Ruby’s sister, I still don’t know her very well.

  Then I also remember what Base said about attending the parties I am invited to. She could be a buffer…

  ME: Why do I need to be there?

  KRYSTA: Because you’re a Sterling? IDK

  ME: You’re a Sterling by blood.

  KRYSTA: You’re the one with the name. ;)

  Dale and Harley are starting to inch closer as they argue, which means soon the kissing will begin—because when these people get mad at each other, they also get aroused.

  Which means soon they’ll be leaving. And I’ll be here alone. As usual.

  Krysta never hangs out with the group. Maybe she has even fewer friends than me.

  ME: I’ll go.

  KRYSTA: Great! I’ll pick you up in twenty.

  Leaving Dale to argue with Harley about the numerous ‘appropriate curriculums an Ivy League college has to offer a girl’s mind,’ I go to grab my things, checking myself in the mirror to see how much work I can do in twenty minutes.

  In the span of time it took me to go to my bedroom, the arguing has ceased, and the telltale smacking sounds have begun.

  I may not understand why they do the things they do, but I have learned to predict what they’ll be doing.

  Deciding not to change, I go outside to wait on Krysta, just as Harley calls out, “Bye, Britt! We’ll work on your paper more tomorrow!”

  “Okay,” is my only response.

  I’m getting good at this fewer words responding thing. Even though I know the both of them would listen to me regardless of how many words I had to say to relay my point.

  It’s still good practice.

  Krysta shows up almost directly after they leave, and I decide not to point out that it’s only been twelve minutes instead of twenty, like she said.

  When I get in the car, she smiles over at me.

  “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s sort of last minute, but I’ve seriously been trying to get an invite to one of these parties for a while.”

  I just return her smile, hoping she can’t tell I’m already uncomfortable. Her gaze flicks to my shorts, then up to my shirt, and she shakes her head with a small smile still on her lips.

  She’s dressed in leather pants and a hot pink crop top. I’m wearing a Suicide Squad t-shirt and frayed jean shorts with flip flops.

  “Should I have dressed up more?” I decide to ask.

  “Nope. I should have dressed down, but there’s a boy.”

  I don’t really know what to say to that.

  After a few minutes of silence, Krysta asks, “Does it bother you? That people invite you places because of you’re a Sterling?”

  “No,” I say with a shrug.

  She laughs quietly. “That’s all you’re going to tell me? Just no?”

  “My name before meant nothing. And when it was attached to me, it was a reminder that I had a name, but no family to go with it. Sterling was a name my brother was proud to give me, and when people want me to go somewhere because of that name, I try my best to show gratitude. Before Sterling, I might as well have been nameless. It’s daunting at times, sure, but I still enjoy it.”

  When she smiles, I relax, seeing that I haven’t blurted out too much.

  “Corbin thinks I should get my name changed, even though my bio dad doesn’t want to claim me. He says the name is as much his as it is our father’s, but…I don’t know. It makes me feel like I’d look desperate,” she confesses.

  “Why would it make you look desperate?”

  She laughs again. “I just know people would talk, and that’s what they’d be saying.”

  She doesn’t really make any sense if she’d think about it logically. “People always have something bad to say about Sterlings, so you’d blend in.”

  She glances over at me as she grimaces.

  “But people talk about you because they hate that you’re living the fairytale. Long, lost, rich, incredibly doting brother comes to find you, saves you from poverty, and brings you home where you’re immediately loved and part of their extremely wealthy inner circle. I’m the slightly unstable daughter of a deranged woman with fatal attraction symptoms whose bio dad didn’t want anything to do with her. It’s less fairytale and more Jeepers Creepers.”

  As we take a familiar turn, I pull out my phone and google Fatal Attraction and Jeepers Creepers.

  Trying to piece together her pop culture references, I say, “Most all fairytales were derived from a more morbid, less shiny tale. The dark undertones are always overshadowed by the happily-ever-afters by the optimists.”

  After realizing what Jeepers Creepers is, I frown. I’m not sure how a man-eating, humanoid monster has anything to do with this, but I’m guessing she meant it abstractly.

  Anything too abstract sails over my head.

  When she pulls up to a very familiar house, my stomach twists in those horrible
metaphoric knots.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she says.

  At the exact same time, I ask, “Why are we here?”

  I’m not sure why my heart is hammering, but I suddenly feel like running. Fast. Why am I panicking? The potential for conflict is low, so there’s no reason to panic.

  She frowns as she looks over. “This is where the party is.” She gestures to all the cars. “Something wrong?”

  Yes!

  “No,” I blurt out, since this should be okay and I’m irrationally panicking.

  “Great. Then let’s go in,” she says as she pushes open her door.

  I take a few more seconds to breathe, which I’m having to think about. I’m a girl who can’t forget anything, and yet I’m struggling to remember how to perform simple, typically unconscious, cognitive functions.

  Shakily, I push open the door and try not to overthink it. Krysta is already walking toward the steps that lead up to the pool, but she turns to wait on me.

  Just as she opens her mouth to speak, I hear, “The Sterling girls have arrived!”

  Her eyes widen, almost as though she wasn’t expecting anyone to call her that. I assume. She also doesn’t look too happy about it.

  My eyes dart up to see Taylor and Sticks grinning down at us, and Krysta offers them a tight smile as she starts making her way up the steps. I follow, my eyes darting around the second I can see the pool, searching for a face I can’t find.

  Sticks grabs my hand, pulling it into his, and then makes a dramatic show of kneeling in front of me. I’m not dressed like the Valkyrie princess and this isn’t a LARP session, so I have no idea why he’s kneeling.

  That’s the only time people ever kneel before me.

  “We had a Sterling at our house, and we didn’t even know it,” he says, grinning broadly. “We most graciously apologize.”

  He kisses my hand, then winks as he stands. As he goes to drop his arm around Krysta’s shoulders, he calls out. “Grab yourself a drink, Britt Sterling. Tonight we find out all your secrets.”

  “I don’t have secrets,” I tell Taylor, who is standing beside me and smiling.