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

by C. M. Owens

  “Bringing up my virginity tends to stall things when they actually are progressing.”

  He bursts out laughing, turning to put his head into the pillow to smother the sound.

  “Five Sterlings cause issues as well, whenever they’re hovering.”

  “I can see that,” he says, still laughing.

  “Then of course there are the ones who ask too many questions about my family. Everyone has warned me about social ladder climbers using me and possibly hurting me or the family. I’m not sure if they mean emotionally or physically, but either way, if they’re warning me away, then I listen. And I’m supposed to avoid ‘cherry pickers,’ though I’m still not sure how to discern who chases virgins just to be the breaker of the most hymens. Contrary to popular belief, women maintain a hymen; it just stretches or tears during the first session of intercourse. That’s why pain scales vary. I have a normal hymen; the opening in it grows larger as I grow, but I’m finished growing, so it should hurt the least now.”

  His laughter doubles, and he moves even closer, causing his jean-clad knee to brush against my shin. I have no clue why I shiver, but I do, and tingles ghost over my body.

  As his laughter tapers off, I decide it’s safe to continue talking, since it doesn’t seem like he’s put off.

  “Mostly, I’d just like to not be a virgin anymore, but I don’t want someone who will hurt me physically. I have an eidetic memory, so forgetting things is an issue, and I’ve read some horror stories. I’m not worried about getting hurt emotionally.”

  His smile vanishes. “You need to be prepared, and—”

  “I have plenty of lubricant and condoms, and I’ve been on birth control for years,” I tell him, practically gloating over my preparation skills. “Rain assures me I’ll want a lot of sex as long as the first time isn’t terrible, so I’ve stocked three drawers.”

  He scrubs a hand over his face. “That’s certainly prepared,” he mutters under his breath just loud enough for me to hear. “Definitely get someone who knows what they’re doing,” he says quietly, his eyes dipping to my mouth before coming back up.

  He groans for no reason I can discern as he flops over to his back and puts his arm across his face. Without looking at me, he adds, “And I read about your memory, Girl Genius.”

  I look down and start picking at a loose thread on his black bedspread.

  “So if I asked you for the square root of any number, you’d know it immediately?” he asks, lifting his arm so he can see me.

  “Doubtful. I’d have to do the math, even if it was in my head.”

  “Terrible inconvenience,” he says with that same small smile.

  I just glance around his room, taking in the sparse decorations and plain furniture that is peeling at all the edges. He doesn’t seem to care much for things. I like that.

  “So tell me something real, Britt Sterling. Something very few know. You’re getting closer to a revelation; I can feel it,” he says, still grinning. “You can tell me why you’re really obsessed with sex.”

  When I open my mouth to correct him, he beats me to it.

  “Sorry. You can explain your fixation with sex. The real reason.”

  Bristling, I decide to keep that to myself.

  Instead, my eyes slowly lift to meet his, and I say something I’ve never said aloud to anyone. “Everyone thinks I’m smart.”

  “Everyone thinks you’re a genius,” he says absently as he picks his guitar back up. “The smartest of the smart. That doesn’t have any relevance to the topic, though.”

  “Just because someone tests to be a genius, it doesn’t mean they’re smart.”

  He frowns at that, and I work a little harder to play along with this muse game of his. “I’m actually not very smart at all,” I go on.

  “How are you not smart?” he asks, sounding confused…or constipated. One day, I’ll learn the difference.

  Before I can answer, there’s a knock at the door, saving me from the confession.

  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.”

  She relaxes again, and w
e ride the rest of the way in relative silence, sans the sounds Krysta makes when she vomits twice more…then begins snoring again.

  “All you have to do is ask me to pull over,” I remind Krysta.

  She groans her disapproval.

  “How are you not even making a face?” I ask Britt, practically hanging my head out the window to breathe.

  Britt is doing something on her phone, as she seriously answers, “I’ve been around a lot of unpleasant bodily fluids in my life, and my sense of smell has been dulled against them.”

  This is why I’m fixated on her right now. She claims to have no secrets, but only gives you tidbits of information that have curious minds like mine screaming for more.

  Just as we pull up to a semi-large home on the beach, a little bug pulls in as well, and my eyebrows go up as a familiar tatted girl steps out and jogs toward us.

  “I had to text Ruby to get Krysta’s address, but she said she’d meet us here instead,” Britt explains. “Which is better. Ruby’s her sister. She should be with someone who cares about her the most.”

  “She’s drunk, Britt. Not dying,” I say with small smile as I step out.

  Ruby stumbles when she sees me, and her eyebrows hit her hairline. A slow smile spreads and her gaze darts between Britt and me, as Britt also climbs out.

  “I’m so not telling Corbin about this,” she says with that smile still growing.

  Britt tilts her head. “About Krysta getting drunk?” she asks so obliviously.

  My own grin spreads as I go to help get Krysta out of the back seat.

  “Yeah. About that,” Ruby says, patting Britt’s arm as she comes to help me out, then she groans and gags. “Man, I hope she knows she’s cleaning that shit up. Care if I take her inside and wash her up?”

  Britt just blinks. “Do whatever she needs done.”

  Ruby’s eyes soften. “It’s okay, Britt. You did okay. Stop worrying.”

  Until this moment, I didn’t realize how worried Britt actually was, but her entire body is strung tight.

  I carry Krysta into the shower—fully clothed—and leave Ruby to deal with it. Ruby thanks me with a small smile on her lips as she turns on the spray of water that slaps Krysta directly in the face.

  Krysta jackknifes to the seated position, sputtering and cursing, and Ruby laughs like she’s amused.

  Sisters…

  Turning, I walk out, pulling my now disgusting shirt over my head carefully, while holding my breath.

  Britt is standing wide-eyed in the living room, her eyes on my body as I grin over at her. “Care if I wash this shirt?”

  She points at the room off to the side, and trails me as I head to the washer. I just put the shirt in without turning it on, since I’m sure Ruby will want to add Krysta’s clothes in.

  Jogging outside, I go to grab my guitar, and return to see Britt pacing in the living room.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, causing her eyes to flick to my chest again.

  “You arouse me a lot,” she states, causing me to…I don’t even know how to react.

  What the hell do I say to that?

  Her cheeks heat, and she exhales harshly. “What I mean is that I panic with you, but I still think you would be the best candidate for my hymen issue.”

  My grip slips, and my guitar case bangs the floor when I drop it entirely.

  Her eyes stare at me expectantly while I clear my throat. Repeatedly.

  My mouth opens and closes a couple of times, but I end up clearing my throat some more while rubbing the back of my neck. This is the first time in my life I’ve been rendered speechless. And I’ve had some unusual sexual propositions after performances.

  Instead of speaking, though, I resume clearing my throat some more.

  “You’re going to run now, aren’t you?” she asks seriously, frowning. “I thought you were different.”

  More vomiting sounds come from the bathroom down the hall, serenading this moment, and I quirk an eyebrow as an incredulous smile spreads over my face.

  “Not running,” I tell her, which causes her smile to grow. “But I’m not taking your virginity either, pretty girl,” I quickly add with a little less enthusiasm.

  Her smile falls.

  “Oh.”

  With that one word uttered, she expressionlessly turns and walks away, moving toward the bathroom without saying anything else.

  Lips twitching, I grab my guitar from the case and take a seat, playing a new melody as it essentially composes itself. The lyrics aren’t there yet, but I can feel them trying to form.

  After a while, Britt emerges, almost stumbling when her eyes land on me. “I thought you’d be gone,” she says, frowning.

  “You’re going to have to ask me to leave if you want me gone,” I tell her with a smile, my fingers pausing on the strings.

  She hesitates, almost as though she’s thinking about what words to use. I’d rather just hear things fly from her mouth, uncensored, if I’m being honest.

  Then maybe I could get inside her head a little better.

  “I didn’t mean at this precise moment,” she finally says. “About the hymen issue, I mean,” she adds so seriously, as though she’s decided this is the best route to take for this conversation.

  My grin grows, since I’ve never had a conversation like this.

  “We can wait until my uterus finishes its shedding,” she states, then looks at me expectantly, as though she’s come to the conclusion she’s clarified things enough for me.

  Wiping away my grin so that she doesn’t take it wrong and get insulted, I shake my head.

  “I’m one hundred percent focused on my music right now. The best I can offer is friendship, so I think it’d be a dick move to take your virginity,” I tell her, trying to be as collected and calm as possible, even though the v-word does scare the shit outta me.

  Given her approach, I’m starting to see why she’s struggling to find any takers. And I’m an ass for liking the fact she’s struggling.

  I think it’s part of the reason she is who she is.

  I’m not in any sort of hurry to see someone take that away from her.

  She stares at me for a moment before finally asking, “Why did you kiss me?”

  Now that I know she’s not gay, I feel like a total dick for kissing her, then leaving to help get the drunk chicks out of the party before someone drowned or got hurt enough to sue us. Especially since one of those drunk girls sort of kissed me.

  “It was in the moment,” I decide to answer. “I like to think I’m a passionate guy because most artists are, and I tend to do whatever the moment calls for without thinking too much about it. It’s cliché but true.”

  She studies me again, as though she’s running the words through her head. She has to overthink things because she thinks differently, or so I’m learning.

  “I’m not going to become emotionally invested,” she states matter-of-factly.

  “That’s usually the messiest entanglement because emotions don’t disappear just because you pretend they don’t exist,” I tell her, still battling that grin.

  If only she wasn’t a virgin…

  My gaze dips down to those cupid lips that definitely stir memories. If she hadn’t stopped me, I might have accidentally have taken her v-card.

  “Maverick had an efficient arrangement with Chloe that never resulted in hurt feelings, and he easily cut her out of his life in support of Harley, who he had no sexual attachment to. It was never messy.”

  My eyebrows go up. “I don’t know who Chloe is, but I do know Mav, and I don’t think he’s the best Sterling for you to model your love life off of.”

  She frowns. “Why not? He’s always been happy, and now he’s in a healthy, happy relationship. He had sex with numerous women without emotional attachments or messy breakups. Tria assures me that the double standard for men and women is steadily declining.”

  I scrub a hand over my face. “Killin’ me, smalls,” I groan.

  “I’m
too young and inexperienced to deal with those types of emotions, and I’m aware of that,” she tells me flatly.

  I peer over at her in confusion. “What?”

  “Dane lost his virginity to Rain, and vice-versa, and they were messy because of emotions—also due to youth. Kode obsessed about the wrong Noles sister for so long that he almost missed out on Tria, all because of youthful emotions. Corbin nearly destroyed himself and Ruby because of youthful emotions. Dale was insecure and somewhat self-centered, hurting someone who now means a lot to him because of youthful emotions. Maverick is the only one who didn’t suffer painful attachments or heartbreaks before he found Salem.”

  She blinks at me, as though she expects me to piece all that together and tell her the conclusion she assumes I’ll draw.

  Finally, she says, “I don’t want to suffer heartbreaks. I don’t want to love someone and lose them because of timing and maturity. I don’t want to do this wrong. I don’t want to feel rejected by someone I’ve allowed myself to care about that I shouldn’t have. I want to skip the dark undertones this time, and head straight for the happily-ever-after. But I want to enjoy life while I wait, because I don’t want to feel like I’ve missed out on anything now that I have the chance to be happy.”

  I lean back, putting my guitar down as she gives me a lighter, more genuine smile.

  “That’s something no one else knows about me,” she tells me, her smile slipping. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “I thought you didn’t have secrets,” I say quietly, running my index finger over my bottom lip as I struggle not to give in.

  Everything about her is testing my resolve.

  “I don’t, but people feel sorry for me a lot of times when I tell the truth, and I don’t like that at all,” she explains.

  Heaving out a breath, I shake my head. “I’ll give you a tip,” I tell her, smirking when her brow furrows. “Stop asking someone to simply do the deed like it’s a chore. It sucks the romance out of the moment, and things like this need to happen naturally. It’s just too much pressure on the guy when someone is forced to overthink it.”

  Her smile immediately blooms. “Naturally?” she echoes. “Like in the moment. The way you said the pool was.”