Confession Of A Nerdoholic

by Savannah Blevins

  I pulled the poster down and shoved it in my book and took off down the aisle after my nerd.

  James Bond didn’t have anything on me. I was in complete stealth mode. I stood in the middle of the aisle pretending to look at a book as he continued to talk on the other side of the shelf.

  “Okay, we are definitely not having this conversation right now. I’m okay with listening to you lecture me about by diet, but my social life is off limits.”

  He moved down a few feet, and I followed. His voice was cool and calm. Every word he spoke made tiny prickles pop up on my skin.

  “Look, I know Dad is a Sigma alum. Trust me, in no way, form, or fashion has he ever let me forget that. I came to college to get an education. I’m not the fraternity type.” He continued to growl as he listened to whatever argument his mother gave on the other end. “It would only be a distraction.”

  We moved dangerously close to the edge of the book shelf, so I stopped at the corner and turned my back to it. He let out an agonizing moan, and I had to hold onto the shelf for support. “I need to finish my bio homework. Can we talk about this later?”

  He emerged from between the shelves, and my back instinctively jerked inward at the thought of him standing behind me. “Love you too, Mom.” He laughed and I heard the phone beep off.

  He breathed in a deep, heavy sigh and my ovaries dropped down to scream at my uterus.

  “You would think moving away to college would make your mother realize you’re capable of taking care of yourself,” he mumbled to himself. “But, no, not Oliver Edwards’s mom.”

  With that, he stalked up the stairs with his new load of books. I turned around in time to watch his black Chucks disappear up the stairwell.

  Oliver.

  My nerd’s name was Oliver.

  Oliver Nerdilicious Edwards.

  I knew his name!

  I grabbed my books and quickly stuffed everything down into my backpack. I wasn’t studying tonight. Tonight was not a study night. I ran up the stairs and headed back to my apartment. This was cause for a celebration.

  Once I made it home, I went straight to the kitchen and started slinging open cupboards and drawers looking for everything I needed. I spent the next hour and a half whipping through my kitchen like a Tasmanian Martha Stewart. Sugar, flour, and dashes of vanilla. Butter, oil, and eggs. I broke them, stirred them, and whipped them as I sang a chorus at the top of my lungs. “Oliver Edwards. His name is Oliver Edwards.” My kitchen was in complete and total shambles, but in front of me sat one beautiful creation, if I had to brag on it myself.

  A cupcake.

  Not just any cupcake, but my famous very vanilla cupcake with homemade strawberry cheesecake icing, topped with cherry sprinkles. I couldn’t tell my femur from my ass crack, but I could sure bake the hell out of some cupcakes.

  I grabbed the treat and ran full throttle back to the library. When I made it to the entrance, I bent over, gasping for air. People walked by looking at me like I was a lunatic, but I didn’t care.

  Oliver—no, I would never stop saying his name—sat silently studying in his usual spot. I stumbled over to a seat to wait it out. I held the cupcake in my lap as I patiently waited for my heartrate to slow down. Twenty-five minutes later, I was perfectly calm, and Oliver had pulled off his glasses to rub his eyes. He put the glasses back on and leaned up to stretch. I scooted up in my seat. It was almost time.

  Sure enough, Oliver stood and stretched again before walking away from his desk. I leaned over to watch him fade out of sight into the hallway, leading to the bathroom. I pounced. In a matter of seven seconds I was across the room. I strategically placed the cupcake in the middle of his book and then sprinted back in my original position.

  James Bond, I tell you. Eloise Duncan, international nerd stalker extraordinaire. My stomach knotted up as he returned to his seat. He noticed something was off as he approached, and he stopped a few feet from the desk, staring at his book. He cocked his head to the side and a small smile spread across his face.

  Oh. That smile.

  He moved closer. He studied it a moment before finally picking it up to inspect it. He turned it around, taking a quick whiff of the icing.

  Eat it. Just freaking eat it. Please, eat it.

  He did something even better. He stuck his tongue out and licked the icing.

  His eyes lit up with recognition. The next thing I knew, Oliver had the wrapper off and half of it in his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor.

  I squealed.

  Loudly.

  People around me turned and stared. “He’s eating my cupcake,” I said to the boy behind me who scowled in my direction. “My cupcake.”

  Oliver licked the icing off his fingers. I had to sit down. The table, my life support to keep my heart off the floor. He looked around the room, curious. I moved back out of sight even more than I already was, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

  Oliver liked my cupcakes.

  He leaned back in his seat and smiled again before shaking his head. His attention went back down to his book.

  I fell into the seat beside me with a thud. This library officially became my very own fantasy land. It was Walt Disney World. The place dreams came to get hot and bothered. I didn’t want to leave this spot. I couldn’t.

  Yes, it was official. I would fail anatomy.

  Chapter Five

  BASEBALL

  Ava straightened her perfect beauty queen ponytail before adjusting the low-cut shirt she wore into perfect position. “What do you mean, you baked him a cupcake? Please tell me that is your new slang for rocking that geek’s socks off behind the poetry section.”

  I sighed, looking up at the clouds that floated effortless above my head. We’d been sitting in the outfield at the Maryland baseball team’s first home game for thirty minutes, and I was already bored out of my mind. Said boredom was the only reason I broke down and told my friends about how I finally figured out Oliver’s name. I assured myself that boredom was a legitimate excuse. If not for the sheer lack of stimuli eating me alive, I would have never admitted to my ridiculous cupcake scheme.

  “No. I mean it literally. I baked the boy a cupcake.” I thought about it for a second, remembering Oliver’s smile and his tongue as he tested the icing. “He liked it, and I liked that he liked it.”

  Sloan glanced over at me out of the corner of her eye, her lips pursed. “He liked it? Did he tell you that?”

  I stared down at the big red bows on the tips of my shoes. I patted them against the seat in front of me with a light tip tap sound, avoiding her question. A slow smile spread across Sloan’s face. She was such a wicked pixie. “He doesn’t know you’re the one who baked it for him, does he?”

  Maybe I was wrong the other day at the café. Maybe I was the one who was predictable.

  I looked down and played with the hem of my polka-dotted dress. “Technically?”

  Sloan burst out laughing, and I begrudgingly stuffed another handful of popcorn in my mouth, sinking down in my seat a little further.

  “I think it was good thinking on Elle’s part.” Ava craned her head to get a better view of the players coming out on the field. “A man will follow his stomach anywhere most of the time. She could probably leave him a trail of cupcakes straight to her bed now.”

  I pointed to Ava in order to suggest she had a good point, but I couldn’t help but laugh at her in the process. I sat bundled up in a jacket over my dress, the spring weather not quite cooperative for much else, while sex-on-a-stick Ava looked like she was going to the beach for spring break.

  “Ava, you do realize Brad plays short stop and there is no possible way he is going to see you all the way out here?”

  She slung her mane of blonde hair around in my face. “Look, Eloise. You bake your nerd cupcakes, and I’ll flaunt my hoo-has to my jock. We work with what we’ve got.”

  “Would you two focus?” Sloan stole a hand full of popcorn from my box. “We’re discussing Elle’s first
contact with Library Boy. I mean, the guy ate your freaking cupcake. You’ve got to introduce yourself now.”

  “Don’t say it like that.” I wrinkled my nose, my heart forming a giant lump in my throat. “You make it sound dirty.”

  “Sloan can make the Easter bunny X-rated,” Ava said with a smile. “Besides, you said it yourself…you liked it when he ate it.”

  This conversation was going downhill, and downhill fast. “Did he use his tongue?” Sloan asked, intrigued. “Did he lick it nice and slow?”

  Ava giggled. “Was he completely satisfied?”

  There was no escaping those two once they got started. “He ate it really fast, and yes, he looked pretty damn satisfied.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at them.

  They both smirked at me in triumph. It was their goal in life to pull me down in the gutter with them. I waited because there had to be more. It was Sloan, so of course there was more. She sat up in her seat, turning all the way around to face me. “Seriously, though, this boy just ate a cupcake he found sitting on his desk? You could have laced it with the date rape drug, for all he knew.”

  “He apparently has a thing for cupcakes. Especially my cupcakes. Gretchen said he comes in Sugar Cube once a week.” I smiled at the thought. No, my internal ballerina danced a jig in my gut at the thought. “I think he recognized my icing. He couldn’t resist after that.”

  Sloan put her hand on my shoulder. “Then why don’t you rub some icing on your mouth and tell him you have a new flavor for him to try?”

  Ava snorted as she eyed her man warming up over in the left field corner.

  I rolled my eyes at both of them. “Or I could just bake him more and keep secretly leaving them for him to find.”

  “Said the crazy stalker.” Sloan smirked, nudging my side.

  I groaned. They didn’t understand. Every time I looked at Oliver or heard his voice, I lost all ability to function. I wanted nothing more than to peel every inch of clothing off him with my teeth. If he were some normal guy, I would have already accomplished that goal. He wasn’t normal, though. He was Oliver Edwards.

  Ava kicked me, and I realized Brad Helton, with all two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle in tow, was headed our direction, smiling like a breastfed baby at the Playboy mansion.

  “Hello, ladies.” His voice boomed from the field beneath our seats, and Ava leaned over the rail, giving him a perfect view of her barely-there shirt.

  “Hello.” Ava stated it as if she were completely bored out of her mind.

  I officially hated her. Out of the people at the game, Brad had not only spotted her, but decided to trot over for a friendly chat?

  The world was cruel. Evil, nerd-deprivingly cruel.

  It depressed me that I was being forced to witness this exchange of sexual Jedi mind games. Neither of them took the tact to be mysterious or unobvious. Brad might as well have waved his hand in front of her face and said, “Show me the hoohas,” while Ava repeated the same gesture instructing, “I wanna see nothing but cleats.” Brad never took his eyes off Ava’s chest, and Ava was about to sling herself over the railing on top of him. I grabbed the edge of her scanty shirttail just to be safe.

  My only saving grace was when the coach finally yelled for them to come to the dugout, and Brad was forced to unlock his gaze from the Holy Grails. Then, of course, Ava was so high on pheromones that you couldn’t understand a word that came out of her mouth. She kept mumbling about chocolate syrup, chains, and Barry White.

  Either way, I was jealous. Both Sloan and Ava were well on their way to apprehending their fantasy boys, while I watched from the sidelines. I wasn’t overtly confident like Sloan or physically gratifying like Ava. I was determined to work with what I had.

  Cupcakes.

  After the baseball game, I went to the grocery store, and I’m not going to lie…I went a little crazy with the cupcake supplies. Should I have been studying instead?

  You betcha.

  Should I have finally answered one of the ten voicemails my dad left me?

  Probably.

  I managed a high C on my quiz Friday, but it wouldn’t be enough to jerk my grade up. I had an itch, though. It had to be scratched. I had to provide Oliver with more cupcakes. I put my heart and soul into those recipes. I wanted to watch him enjoy them.

  I taped a different page from my recipe book on the fridge for every day of the upcoming week. I put on my favorite Betty Boop apron and twirled around my kitchen like a flour fairy.

  Monday, I left Oliver a dazzling display of chocolate and chocolate with strawberry sprinkles. He looked around the room suspiciously before devouring it in a matter of seconds. The chocolate smeared over his lips as he licked it off, and I died a little inside. Okay, so maybe died was the wrong verb, but it was less embarrassing.

  Tuesday, I got a little creative with chocolate chip and butter cream icing. I could have sworn he eyed his desk as soon as he came back around the corner from retrieving a book. It made the smile on his face when he saw it sitting there even sweeter.

  Wednesday, bravery struck me and I drew a smiley face on the top, complete with black glasses. He crinkled his nose up as he examined my sugary artwork, and then he let out a laugh while he bit his lip. Yes, a laugh. A laugh that I had induced.

  Thursday, I showed up early hoping to get some actual studying done before he arrived because, let’s face it. After he arrived, I didn’t care if I ended up a hobo on the street singing Thriller for pennies as long he moaned when he licked my cupcake. I finally decided to give myself a little quiz to see exactly how much I knew for this week’s quiz.

  Bad idea.

  I sat there with my foot hooked around the leg of the chair and wept on the list of terms that would be my downfall. I knew how to spell the names of the bones, and I could think of about thirty different ones, but I couldn’t remember which one was which. Unfortunately, that was kind of the whole point. I slammed the book shut and shoved it off the desk into my backpack with the feeling of complete doom washing over me. After I gave Oliver his cupcake, I snuck off to go in to work early. I needed to carve out some actual study time or I would end up back in Hollyhell for good.

  I hurried through the orders Gretchen set out for me, and it helped lighten my mood. People were requesting my cupcakes for special events. Three different birthday parties wanted two dozen of my double chocolate everythings. I prepped another batch and put them in the oven. The doorbell dinged, and I heard Gretchen greet the customer as I closed the oven and set the timer.

  “Surprise. Surprise. I’m back.”

  This time I recognized the voice immediately.

  My back snapped straight. I’d given Oliver a cupcake not even two hours ago, and he was already back in the shop? That boy had a cupcake addiction. No wonder I liked him so much.

  “Nice to see you again,” Gretchen said. “What can I get you?”

  There was a long pause, and I could imagine him silently eyeing the cupcake case. “Well, actually, I’m not here to buy anything. I was kind of hoping to ask you a question.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  I ran to the door to eavesdrop. The side of Oliver’s face was barely visible above the counter. His hair defied gravity today. There didn’t seem to be any mousse or some other kind of anything added to it. It just naturally stood up on the ends in this super sexy, nonchalant way. “Someone seems to have figured out my not-so-secret obsession with the cupcakes from your shop.”

  That perked Gretchen up. Her eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

  Crap. Oliver was totally going to out me to my boss.

  Gretchen tapped her fingers across the cash register. “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah. Someone keeps leaving them on my desk at the library every time I leave. I was just wondering.” He pointed at the sign above the cupcake case with my name on it. “This Eloise…she’s an eighty-year-old woman, right? Gray hair. Apron with giant apples on it.”

  Gretchen’s grin got so big it
revealed every tooth in her mouth. “Do you think Eloise is giving you the cupcakes?”

  Oliver blushed. “I know it sounds crazy.”

  “No. Not crazy at all. Whoever this person is, though…they must really be smitten with you to go through so much trouble.” You could hear the teasing in Gretchen’s voice. She knew it was me. Of course, she freaking knew it was me.

  Again, Oliver’s blush only deepened. As if he wasn’t cute enough already.

  Gretchen tapped her fingers along the top of the counter, now moving slowly toward me. “To answer your question, Eloise is definitely not eighty years old. However, I should also point out that she’s sold close to two hundred cupcakes this week. A lot of them to pretty young girls.”

  Oliver tried to smile, but he only ended up awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for the info.” He started to back away toward the door, but then stopped when he put his hand on the glass. “Next time you see Eloise…tell her I really do like her cupcakes.”

  Gretchen glanced toward the kitchen door. “Will do.”

  The doorbell dinged again, and I ran back to my station and started stirring random ingredients together which turned out to be sugar and more sugar. Oliver caused my brain to dysfunction. Something about him caused the wires to get crossed and my hormones to go haywire. Gretchen rounded the corner and laughed at the sight of me. “Oh, don’t you dare stand there and act like you weren’t listening. I could see your face in the reflection of the glass.”

  I looked guilty. So terribly guilty. I shrugged and continued to stir my sugar concoction. “I may have overheard the conversation.”

  Gretchen laughed again as she leaned against the doorframe, a smug grin forming on her face. “You’ve been leaving him the cupcakes, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” I scraped the tiled floor with the toe of my shiny, canary yellow shoes. “Would that make me crazy and desperate?”