“Only if it didn’t work. Seems to me like your little plan is working out quite well for you.”
I frowned down at the bowl. “Maybe.”
“What do you mean? He made a trip all the way down here to ask about you. He wants it to be you.”
I bit my lip. “You don’t know how much I like the fact that he likes what I do. Baking…it’s my life.”
“Then go tell him. Introduce yourself.”
I stirred the sugar around in the bowl again. “It isn’t that simple.”
Gretchen walked over, her fingers tilting my chin up. “It is that simple, Eloise. Look at you…you’re a catch. That boy would be putty in your hands. Heck, he practically is already, and he doesn’t even know it’s you yet.”
The grin was too strong to deny. It sounded too easy, though. Too perfect. Happy endings weren’t exactly my thing. I’d always been a “watch the world from the sideline” kind of girl. I daydreamed behind the safety of my mixing bowl. This game I played with Oliver started to feel too real. Or maybe it already was real, and I was too scared to lose it. I always lost everything I cared about. My father made sure of it. He pushed my mother away, he ran off every friend I ever cared about and dating wasn’t an option. Boys weren’t part of the detailed plan he had for my life.
Gretchen wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “Tell him, Eloise. You owe it to yourself to give it a shot.”
Suddenly, my canary heels felt sweaty. “I’ll consider it.”
And I would. Unfortunately for me, though, I already knew what my answer would be. It would take something stronger than a pep talk to get this girl in the game. An Oliver-shaped bulldozer, perhaps?
Chapter Six
BOOKS
The next week, I spent my every waking hour studying in between classes and work. I had a project due in history and a paper to finish in English, on top of my extra study efforts with anatomy. Floundering sounded like an appropriate word to describe my week. Surviving as I flailed around aimlessly, barely managing to keep my head above water. I could feel my mental efforts weakening. I would drown soon, and before I knew it, I would wake up in California Dad-controlled hell.
The coffee I practically pumped into my system like lifeblood gave me the jitters. My knee bounced wildly under the table as I tapped my pencil against the spine of my book. A diagram and a list of terms sat in front of me, but my eyes were directed across the room.
Oliver was in the library. It was Wednesday. Oliver wasn’t supposed to be in the library on Wednesday. Yes, I had a box of cupcakes in my bag. They were extras I planned to share with Sloan and Ava later, but now I felt obligated to give one to Oliver. It was a new recipe I wanted my friends to taste test before I tried it at the shop, but my nerd would do just as well. If Oliver liked it, I really didn’t care if anyone else liked it.
He’d only been at his usual spot for a couple minutes, so I knew he wouldn’t take a break anytime soon. He disappeared to go make a copy of something at the station behind me, so I tried to use the free time to concentrate on my own work. These new terms that professor gave us for the week were even more confusing than last week. Why was it required to memorize every tiny notch and dent on your face? You couldn’t even see those notches on a real person. So, why did it matter?
I got the inferior nasal concha mixed up with the palatine bone for the third time, and it was all I could take. I slammed the book shut and shoved it off the table. Maybe the library floor would open up and a giant bookworm would eat it and go regurgitate it in Dr. Howard’s face.
A loud grunt echoed beside me as my book crashed to the floor. I tilted my head up. Oliver stared down at me, pain flashing through his eyes. His right hand cupped itself over his crotch and he let out a small whine before dropping down to his knees.
I sucked in a breath of air as my fingers clamped around the edge of the desk.
Oh, crap.
I did not just do that.
No. No. No.
I did not hit Oliver in the nuts with a ten-pound book.
Another groan ripped out of him and his left hand tangled itself in his hair. I wanted to talk. I needed to talk. I had to talk to him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get words to come out of my mouth. My mouth moved, shaking, grasping for functionality, but failing. I stood and bent over him, freaking the hell out, but still unable to form words. He groaned again and looked up, his blue eyes locking onto mine.
Pain. It flickered outward, pleading for help. What could I do? What would I do? I had just broken what I assumed would be my most favorite part of the guy who consumed my every fantasy. What did I say after something like that?
“Sorry,” I finally managed to blurt out, but his gaze dropped back to the floor as he cupped his other hand over himself. He fell forward almost involuntarily. “Shit.”
My hands swirled around in front of me, not sure what to do. Should I touch him? Help him up?
He moaned again. This time louder, more painful.
“I really am so sorry.”
He shifted in an attempt to stand, but it only resulted in another agonizing moan. “Tell that to my balls when you find them,” he mumbled, and my entire world shattered around me.
He wasn’t just angry with me. He was pissed. Well, no crap. I introduced a textbook to his precious gems by unmerciful means of force. Did I expect him to be thrilled about it?
“What the heck was that?” He groaned again, looking behind him at my book.
I sucked in a breath, trying to keep myself calm. “Introduction to Anatomy.”
He snorted and shook his head. “Sounds about right.”
He panted out a few breaths that made my heart stutter in uneven beats, and then he held his hand out to me. “A little help?”
I stared at the hand. He wanted me to touch him. He wanted me to touch his hand that seconds before had been cupping his balls.
I grabbed him as he slowly moved himself up to his feet, making unfavorable grimaces the whole time. Once standing, he released my hold and reached for the table. He gently sat on the edge with a small whine escaping his lips.
I took a few steadying breaths myself. I’d probably maimed him for life. That was what I would be known for from now on. Not my cupcakes. I would be the girl who broke the beautiful nerd.
“Next time you decide to go Carrie on your textbook, do a one-two check on either side…’kay?”
I couldn’t help but let out a slight giggle as he bent down, obviously testing his range of motion before sitting himself back up on the table.
“Will do.” Geez, I felt horrible. This was not how I wanted our first introduction go. Not that I planned for there to be an actual introduction, but if I dared to dream about it, this wouldn’t have been it. I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear. “I really am sorry. I was frustrated. I honestly would never do that to a guy on purpose.”
He nodded as his gaze ran over the floor toward my book. “Frustrated, huh? Anatomy can be tough.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s kicking my butt.” Because of him, but I let that part slide. “I’m kind of failing right now.”
He studied me for a moment, and I suddenly got extremely self-conscious. I admitted to the boy who studies for a living that I’m failing a class. Probably not the best way to impress him.
Oliver didn’t appear disgusted by my confession, though. Instead, he eyed my dress. It was red today, with tiny blue birds printed over every visible inch of it. The V-neck was low and my cleavage louder than the quirky pattern. He tried to glance over it back to my face. Tried and failed. Miserably.
“I’ve seen you around,” he said, clearing his throat and finally locking his eyes back on mine. “A lot, actually. You sit here at this desk most of time, right?”
He noticed me?
Oh, my gosh. He noticed me. And not just the two times I’d made a fool out of myself.
I nodded. It wouldn’t be smart for me to talk right now.
“You come in with two other girls som
etimes too. A little one and the one that wears all the pink?”
Again, I nodded.
He glanced back at the stack of books on my desk. “You study almost as much as me, but you’re still failing?”
Stalking and studying were two totally different things, but I didn’t think he needed an explanation. “That subject seems to be my weak link.” Anatomy, along with his glasses, his pants, and every other nerdy little thing about him.
He stood from the desk, cautiously adjusting himself. “Would you like some help?”
“Help?” I squeaked as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
“Yeah. Well, on behalf of all innocent college guys everywhere, I feel kind of obligated to help you relieve this frustration of yours before you attack again.” He smiled. It was a gorgeous, slow smile that only he could make look seductive and kind at the same time. “I could help you with your anatomy.”
I bet he could.
Random sounds that weren’t English came out of my mouth before I managed to shut it again.
We stood there, looking at each other, and he raised an eyebrow. “Is that a yes? Or a ‘no, freaky boy, get your bruised nuts away from me’?”
“Uhh…um…uhh.” Crap, there I went again. I ran a hand through my tussled hair as I tried to rein in my nerves. “The first one.”
He laughed and crossed his arms. “Well, grab your torture device there and join me over at my desk.”
I nodded.
In fact, I nodded ten times before I could make myself stop and actually pick up all my books. He smiled, and I followed him over to his desk, checking out his ass the entire time.
Knocking guys in the crotch with a book was apparently a new perfectly acceptable introduction technique. Boys everywhere, hide in fear.
I sat in the chair next to him, letting my backpack slide from my arm. He cleaned off the desk to make room for my books. My hand slowly reached out in a mock effort to squeeze his ass, but I quickly repositioned myself as he sat.
Reflexes like a cat, I have. A horny, “hump your leg off like a Rottweiler” cat.
He turned to face me, and I propped my chin in my hand and smiled. I was in heaven.
“I’m Oliver, by the way. Oliver Edwards.” He linked his hands in front of him on the desk. “I guess I kind of forgot to mention that before.”
At the thought of it, his hand reflexively moved over his crotch. I would have to make up for my accident somehow.
“You were a little occupied.” I tried to smile politely, but then I panicked. I couldn’t tell him I was Eloise. What if he instantly put two and two together? He saw me here at the library, and my name also happened to be the same as the girl who made his favorite cupcakes. He would know. “I’m Elle. Elle Duncan.”
Even with the use of my nickname, I waited to see his reaction. He nodded and scooted his chair closer to the desk, and I scooted mine closer to him. “So, you’re having trouble with anatomy?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, and I realized he was waiting for me to answer. “Uhh, yeah…trouble with anatomy.”
My gaze dropped to his crotch, and I mentally kicked myself. I was not turning into Sloan today.
“So, what are you having trouble with, exactly?”
He had the absolute cutest serious expression ever. I had no idea how I thought I would survive this without embarrassing myself. I already wanted to poke him to make sure he was real.
“Bones.” Do not look down…do not look down. You are not Sloan. “The bones and everything on the facial skeleton are giving me a hard time.”
He nodded as I focused my attention on the glasses. “I guess they are pretty easy to get mixed up. We could try making up some kind of saying with the first letter of each name that would help you remember.”
“You mean like pretty savory cake?”
His eyes widened and I stifled a giggle.
“You know like pelvis, sacrum, coccyx,” I explained further, “have some cake. That’s how I managed to pass last week’s quiz.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Kind of like that.”
Note to self—nerdy boy blushes easily.
I liked.
“How about we split the face up into sections and write out the list of bones in that portion, and then we can come up with some stuff?”
I smiled and nodded like a clueless bobble-head.
I studied a lot that next hour. None of it had anything to do with anatomy. I studied the way Oliver held his pencil. He had an awkward grip, like he held the pencil too tight. His writing was small and precise. The complete opposite of my large, looping cursive. I also studied the way his lips moved when he read, and how his eyelashes fluttered when he looked up at me through his glasses.
I knew Oliver better than any textbook. I even studied his things. His black on black backpack had a silver batman keychain attached to the zipper. His notebook had a cartoon depiction of the solar system on it. He had a to-do list pinned to the top of it.
1. Finish chem lab questions
2. Mail out Dex’s new X-Men figurine
3. History project group meeting (Annex bld 4:00)
4. Dinner*
5. Finish English paper
I scooted a little closer, eyeing the star next to the word dinner on his list. He noticed me staring. I pointed my pen at the note. “What’s with the star?”
He bit the inside of his jaw, tapping his pencil against the table. “Ah. It’s nothing. Sometimes my dinner schedule gets messed up.” He pointed at my book. “Are you ready for your first quiz?”
I glared at him. “A quiz? You mean, like, right now?”
He smiled like the thought of a test actually brought him joy. “Yeah. How else are we going to know if you know it yet?”
I held up my hands. “Wait a second. I’m not finished with my questions yet.” I pointed back at the paper. “Who is Dex?”
He glanced at the paper again, a small smile developing on his lips. “My little brother. His birthday is next week.”
“And he likes X-Men?”
He beamed with pride. “Well, yeah, doesn’t every ten-year-old boy like X-Men?”
I grinned at him. This was absolutely perfect. “What would he do if instead of a figurine, you sent him an X-Men Origins: Wolverine poster signed by Hugh Jackman?”
Oliver’s eyes widened. “He’d pee his little X-Men loving pants.”
I pulled my shoulders back, proud. “Awesome. It could use a good home.”
Oliver scratched his head. “You have this poster?”
I nodded. “And before you ask, yes, I am very much willing to part with it. I’m from Hollywood. I lived not too far from the theater where they hold a lot of the big movie premieres. Sometimes I would go and wait in line and get celebrity autographs.”
Oliver slid up in his seat, instantly intrigued. “Wow. That’s really cool. You have anyone else I’d know?”
I’d hoped he’d ask. I pointed at the white writing on the black t-shirt he wore under his jacket. I read the quote out loud. “The blood sucking Brady Bunch. That’s a quote from The Lost Boys, right?”
The Lost Boys was an eighties vampire movie that I probably watched at least a thousand times in my childhood.
He pulled his jacket apart and stared down at his shirt. “It was one of my favorite movies as a kid.”
“I got Kiefer Sutherland’s autograph.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I didn’t stand in line for it, though. I ran into him at the Starbucks in West Hills one day. I totally fangirled on him and called him Doc Spurlock. You know…from Young Guns?”
Oliver laughed. “I remember him as Doc. That’s one of my favorite movies too.”
We sat there and smiled at each other, my heart pounding in my chest. It was like I had word vomit. It was totally out of character for me. I didn’t normally like talking to new people, but maybe it was because Oliver wasn’t new. He’d become familiar to me. Or maybe it was the t-shirt. If there was one thing I
knew, it was old occult movies and books.
Oliver leaned over the desk closer to me. “So, what did he sign for you?”
I smiled a brilliant smile. “My high school yearbook. It was the only thing I had with me at the time.”
He leaned back in his seat, impressed. “Suddenly my yearbook sounds so boring.”
“Sometimes it pays to be in the right place at the right time.” And knock someone in the nuts.
“But you know what else I noticed? You just did a really awesome job of diverting my attention away from your test.”
I grinned. “Noticed that, did ya?”
“If you’re not ready, it’s okay. When is your actual test?”
I let out a huff at the thought. “Friday night.”
“I’m usually here on Thursday afternoons, if you want to come by tomorrow and take your pre-test then?”
My toes clenched in my shoes as I tried to keep a straight face. “Is that a date?”
It came out. Like, the question literally fell out of my mouth. I tried to stop it. I even held my hands out so the words had somewhere to land. I tried to backtrack. “Like a study date. You sitting there. Me here. Studying at the same place.”
Oliver’s gaze scanned the books in front of him. He couldn’t even look at me as the shy smile captured his features. “Yeah. A study date.”
I swallowed, and it sounded more like a very loud gulp. “Okay. I’ll bring your brother that poster, if you think he’d like it.”
Finally, he looked up. “Yeah. He would love it.”
“Okay.”
Oliver intertwined his fingers. “Okay.”
Awkward turtles we were…both of us. It was awesome. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I still need to finish my chem lab questions.”
I waved my hands over my list of terms. “I still need to study some more.”
We both smiled, and no one moved. We silently went to our books, no more words spoken between us. None were needed. We sat there like that, working independently next to each other. We’d share a smile, or a random glance, but that was it. It was comfortable. Familiar. It was everything I hoped being with Oliver Edwards would be. Minus the whole maiming his genitals thing.
Confession Of A Nerdoholic Page 5