All Geek to Me

by Allie York

  “Well, I’m here for speed dating.” He holds up his paper and glances at the people seated and ready to go. “I thought it might be worth checking out.” He shrugs and takes his hand from his pocket to hand me a five-dollar bill. I take it and tuck it in my pocket to put away later.

  “Apparently, two of us will be checking it out. You tipped the scales making us short a female participant, so looks like I’ll be filling an empty chair.” I dig in my dress pockets for a five and add it to his bill. I wave it at Greer, she waltzes over and plucks the money from my hand like I handed her a hundred instead.

  “Sounds like we will get to know each other a little better then, won’t we?” Officer Collins takes a step toward me and leans close to my ear. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.” A chill runs across my skin when his breath ghosts my ear.

  Before I can respond he’s on his way to the tables and I go grab a pen and paper from the front table. I don’t need a notebook because I won’t be taking any phone numbers. I fill out the form quickly at the front desk and make it back in time to hear Rae going over our hard rules one more time before starting. I take the only empty seat on the ladies’ side and I realize that Rae had to bring out eight more chairs. I’d say night one of speed dating has been a success minus the part where Officer Collins showed up. It’s not that I’m upset about seeing him. I’m thrilled to see him. The fact that I was wrong when my friends were right makes me a little peeved. I also know that the odds of me doing something as clumsy as hitting him in the face with the door is likely to happen again.

  Rae starts her speech about how the night will flow and about the cameras set up at different angles around the room. She goes through how she’ll use the footage and who she is online, in case anyone missed the memo that a YouTube star is in charge for the night. She goes over the provided snack break being at the one-hour mark. While she’s talking, I scan the room. Everyone is paying attention to her instead of the person across from them. Good, no one will be able to say they don’t know the rules. I’m not looking at the guy I sat down in front of either. It takes a huge amount of effort to keep my eyes from going straight to Officer Collins, but I manage.

  We ended up with a good mix of people. More women showed up than I expected, several are regulars, and the men’s side has a nice mix. Some people dressed up in business casual, but most are in a fandom hoodie or shirt. When I’m done looking at every other person in the room, I let my eyes go to Officer Collins and immediately look away, my face turning red. He’s making no effort to hide the fact that he’s staring at me with a smirk on his face. I can feel his eyes on me while I finish listening to Rae but force myself to not glance back at him. If my counting is correct, I have six dates to sit through before he and I are face to face. Maybe he was looking at the woman behind me or at a random spot on the wall. I truly don’t believe it, but I can pretend he wasn’t staring at me. Right?

  “Is everyone ready? You’ll have one minute to read over your date’s sheet then four minutes to chat before the timer.” She waves my Darth Vader kitchen timer in the air. “Ready, set, date!”

  I spin in my chair to see my first date of the evening. Charlie Lynn is a regular who comes in once a week for his Doctor Who comic order. He even ordered a life-size cut out of the TARDIS one year. He slides me his sheet and I hand him mine. We spend the allotted time reading and his sheet is no surprise. He loves Doctor Who, has a cat named Amy Pond, runs the Southeast chapter of the Whovian Club, and works as a data analysis expert for an IT company. He works from home and his favorite food is fish and chips, a meal us Americans call fish and fries. The timer goes off and Rae instructs us to take our sheets back and start chatting. I let Charlie talk first.

  “Noralee, I had no idea you were looking for a date.” Charlie isn’t a bad looking guy. He’s in his late thirties with a slightly receding hairline and kind brown eyes. “We could have done this a long time ago. I know you love the Doctor almost as much as I do.” His smile is genuine.

  “We were one lady short, so I filled in. I do love the Doctor, but not nearly as much as you. You have number one fan status.” He chuckles and we fall into an easy conversation about Doctor Who and literally nothing else. Don’t get me wrong, I love the show, but I tend to have more varied interests than one TV show, no matter how epic it is.

  The timer buzzes and Charlie looks me over. “I guess I know where to find you if I think a date is in order.” Charlie reaches across the table and shakes my hand with a smile before moving seats. Would I go out with him if he asked? Maybe. It would have to be only one time and while I’m currently re-watching Doctor Who, and I go to sleep watching it every night, I doubt he and I would have much to discuss on a date that lasted longer than five minutes.

  My next date sits down and before I make eye contact, I stupidly glance in the direction of the entire reason I’m about to sit through two full hours of speed dating. Officer Collins flashes me a smile before taking his seat and reaching across to shake his new date’s hand.

  “Hi!” The new man sitting across from me reaches over to shake my hand.

  “Hi!” I smile, and take another quick glance toward Officer Collins, our eyes meet briefly.

  “I’m Travis.” Travis is a handsome guy, with dark hair kept in short, tight curls, dark skin, and light brown yes.

  “Noralee,” I answer him as Rae instructs us to switch papers. We do and I read over his. He’s a soccer player for the local professional league, co-owns a gym, and has a dog named Duke. The timer buzzes, telling us to start chatting and we end up in a much more interesting conversation than my last date. I don’t follow sports but know enough to talk about soccer with him. He asks me about owning the shop and says he drops his sister off for D & D nights every week. The five minutes fly by and I am quickly met with another date.

  “Greg Jacobs.” He shakes my hand, and I watch in my peripheral vision as Officer Collins shakes the hand of the woman next to me. A few seconds ago, he was still four dates away, and now he’s my next date. I notice the guy in the seat Officer Collins should be in and watch him fold a bill and tuck it in his pocket. My eyes dart back to him and I catch him watching me until I realize what he’s done. A sly smile graces his full lips and I force myself to look back at my date for the next five minutes.

  “Sorry.” I focus on my date. “Noralee Reynolds.” We exchange sheets. Greg is forty, a high school science teacher who has a daughter, and is super into collecting old game systems. Once the timer buzzes, we switch sheets and start chatting. Surprisingly, we have a lot to talk about. He played his fair share of D & D in the 80’s and had no idea Words for Nerds existed until he went to sell some of his old supplies and a few systems to buy his daughter a car. We mostly deal in new items but will occasionally buy a vintage item from a private source. We talk about his Atari collection until the time runs out and Rae tells the men to move along. Greg stands up, and so does the man next to him. I suddenly can’t swallow and breathing becomes difficult. Officer Wyatt Collins sits in the seat in front of me, and my brain comes to a screeching halt.

  7

  Noralee

  He reaches across the table to shake my hand, and it takes me a solid three seconds to mimic his motions. “Wyatt Collins, nice to meet you.” My hand meets his and my breath catches. I’m not usually a blundering idiot in front of men. I just had three normal conversations with three attractive men without a single misstep, but apparently this man makes me damn near stupid. I’ve fallen, hit him with a door, and made a general fool of myself at every turn with him, so he must have some weird magnet for my clumsy side. He gives me a look that prompts me to introduce myself despite knowing him already.

  “Noralee Reynolds, likewise.” I try to pull my hand away, but he gives it a light squeeze before letting me slide my palm from his. He slides me his sheet, I hand him mine, and Rae starts the timer. It takes me a few seconds to concentrate enough to read anything. This man unsettles me in the best way p
ossible. I take a settling breath and focus. He’s a cop for the East Hollow Police Department, which I knew. He’s twenty-nine. He watches soccer, but only the World Cup. His favorite food is sushi. He grew up reading Archie Comics, has seen all the Avenger movies, and his favorite TV show is Stranger Things. I skim it again and realize I missed a huge detail the first time through just as the timer tells us it’s time to chat.

  “Peter Pan the theme tonight?” he asks.

  “You have a son?” I blurt out at the same time.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, I do. Are we talking about that first?” His smile makes me melt. He has a kid. How do I feel about this fact? Am I weirded out by it? A little.

  “Or we can talk about the philosophy behind Peter Pan. You choose.” I definitely want to talk about the fact that he’s a dad more than I want to talk about Peter Pan. And I love talking about Peter Pan.

  “Cruze is four. I have him full time and he loves the Avengers more than any human on the planet.” Wyatt smiles when he talks about Cruze.

  “At least he has good taste in superheroes.” I shrug.

  “He does. So, tell me about Peter Pan.” He leans in and rests his forearms on the table, the movement pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his biceps.

  “We only have three minutes left; you really want to spend it talking about Peter Pan?” Surely, we can find better conversation than my thoughts on Peter Pan and how he’s the Angel of Death transporting kids to heaven.

  “What did you talk to that guy about?” He tips his head toward Greg.

  “Vintage gaming systems,” I answer quickly.

  “You have a degree in Children’s Literature?” He changes the subject, referring to my sheet. I nod. “Did you own this place before you settled on that degree?” He seems genuinely interested.

  “I grew up in this shop.” I shrug. “Well, that shop.” I point to the side that has always been the comic shop. “I knew I’d take over someday and business management seemed boring. I went with the other side of my job and picked comics. I did my thesis on Stan Lee.”

  “You grew up here?” Wyatt smiles.

  “My parents owned it before I was born, had me, and I came here every day. I’m an only child, so when they retired it was either sell the place or take over. I took over and have expanded twice now. I built an apartment upstairs and the rest is history.” The smile never leaves his face when I talk. He has a scar on his upper lip that runs all the way to his cheek. It’s one of those things you don’t notice unless you really look, but I’m dying to know what happened. His light blue eyes catch mine and I realize I missed whatever question he asked. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I asked if there had been any more incidents since the break-in.”

  “Oh, no. Things have been the same as they always are. Quiet with no break-ins. I guess it was a one off.” I glance behind me at the timer from my kitchen. “We only have another minute or so.”

  “I guess you’ll have to tell me everything about you in a minute, or I’m going to have to figure out how to stay here to talk to you.” He looks me in the eyes when he says it and I swallow.

  “I can talk pretty fast, but twenty-six years in sixty seconds is a lot, even for me. I’ll give you a quick rundown. I own a comic shop, I’m an Aquarius, no kids, no pets. My three best friends work with me every day. I’ve never been married and had my tonsils taken out when I was seven.” Wyatt nods thoughtfully.

  “I have a kid, no pets, I drive a pretty amazing truck, my partner is my best friend, and my dad lives with Cruze and me. Or we live with him.” The timer sounds but he doesn’t stop.

  “My favorite book is The Circle by Dave Eggars, my favorite movie as a kid was the Goonies. I only eat kid’s cereal, and I came here tonight to see you.” I realize I’m holding my breath and he’s holding up the line. The man next to him clears his throat and Wyatt stands. Instead of moving, he pulls out his wallet and takes out a twenty. He offers it to the next guy and tips his head at the next seat. The guy takes the twenty and moves around us. The timer goes off to switch papers and Wyatt sits back down.

  “That was smooth,” I admit, whispering across the table and grinning like an idiot.

  “As smooth as that tumble you almost took last time I saw you?” He arches a dark brow at me with a smirk.

  “Yeah, actually, about as smooth as that.” I feel my face heat up.

  “Or as smooth as how I got this?” He points to the bruise on his face and I wince.

  “Or that.” I sigh. “I’m still sorry about that.”

  “It gives me street cred.” Wyatt shrugs and I can’t hold back a laugh. “It makes me look badass, right?” The timer sounds for the dating to start but we don’t lean away from each other,

  “You do look pretty badass, but I know that hurts. I feel awful.” I cover my face, but he quickly pulls my hand from my face.

  “You made an impression.” Wyatt smirks.

  “Good point. What are we supposed to talk about now? I only prepared for five minutes per person.” I suddenly draw a blank on anything I might want to know about Wyatt Collins.

  Wyatt pretends to think, tapping his chin with his forefinger. “I’m assuming you’re not in a relationship since you volunteered to speed date. That was noble of you, by the way.”

  “I am not in a relationship. And it was less me volunteering and more me being volunteered.” I notice that he didn’t grab a notebook and pen either. Maybe he was being honest when he said he came to see me. “Safe to assume no one is under the impression that they’re dating you?”

  He laughs a little too loudly and the couple to my right, his left, give us a dirty look.

  “You are right in your assumption. I guess asking me if I’m single leaves too many loopholes?”

  “It does, and I’ve been burned by that one once or twice,” I answer honestly, hoping he uses our five minutes wisely and doesn’t follow up on that line of questioning.

  “Fair enough, my species sucks at times. I assure you that no one thinks they are dating me or is under the delusion that we are committed in any fashion,” he assures me with a dazzling smile, complete with a dimple on his left cheek.

  “Where is your son tonight?” Am I interested in him? Yes. Does him having a kid bother me? I have no idea. Will it bother me if he is not actually raising the kid he claims to have full time? Oh yes.

  “My partner, who insisted I come here tonight and attempt to get laid, took him to see a movie and then promised to help my dad put Cruze to bed if it meant I would pull the stick from my ass. Her words, not mine.” He pauses to see my reaction, but I keep my face neutral. Inside, I’m laughing my ass off. “So, Officer Morton and Pops have Cruze and I’m off the hook for at least four bedtime stories and three trips to the bathroom for water.”

  I let my smile break out. “Tell me more about this stick in your ass.” The timer sounds and Rae calls for the men to move down a seat. The man next to Wyatt stands, but Wyatt shifts his weight, opens his wallet, and pulls out another twenty. His light blue eyes meet mine as he offers it to the man with one hand and points to the chair on the opposite side of him with the other. I break eye contact for a second to watch the man take the money and move on.

  Wyatt leans even closer to me. “Let me clarify that I do not have a stick in my ass.”

  “Okay everyone! Switch papers, one minute, and go!” Rae cranks the timer and sets it on the table in front of her. The sound of papers shuffling echoes off the ceiling and I lean in on the table.

  “Then why does your partner say you do? She knows you best.” I am one hundred percent smitten with the fact that he has now handed out forty plus dollars to keep talking to me, but I can’t let him do it again. How I’m going to stop him, I have no idea, but I’ll try.

  “Well,” Wyatt takes a breath, “she likes to spend her off-time at bars picking up women and calling me for rides later. I like to lecture her on this pastime, and that means I have a stick up my ass. Now, less about me,
more about you.” He leans even closer, although I’m not sure how. Both of us are pressed against the table as tight as we can be to keep our conversation quiet.

  The timer starts for talking, but neither of us lean back. “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about the Peter Pan outfit.” And so, I do. For the next four minutes, we discuss my Peter Pan theory in great detail, including the storyline of Finding Neverland and how that fits in with my theory of children dying and going to heaven by way of the Angel of Death. Wyatt watches me with such rapt attention, you’d think I was teaching a class on the subject. The entire time I’m waving my hands around like an idiot and making crazy gestures about flying, he’s smiling and nodding like my own personal bobblehead. The timer sounds and instead of offering the person next to him money, he stands up and winks at me. I watch him walk all the way around the table, bypassing all the other speed daters. I catch Greer’s eyes and her Cheshire Cat grin for a split second while my eyes follow Wyatt around the table as he walks toward me. When he stops in front of me and offers me his hand, I realize that no one is switching seats. We’re the focus of everyone’s attention. I stupidly stare at his hand before looking up at his face. I focus on his icy blues for a little too long.

  “Oh my god, Nora! Go!” Rae yells at me and without another second of hesitation, my hand is in his and the sensation runs from my fingertips down my arm. He pulls me from my seat and with a sly smile, we weave through the aisles of comics, past the front desk and out the door. He doesn’t stop until we get to his truck. Without asking he takes off his jacket, offering it to me by way of draping it around my shoulders. I didn’t even realize how flipping cold it is until I’m surrounded by his warmth, his smell. And—oh my gosh, that smell.

  Wyatt opens the truck door and I almost swoon at the hopeful look on his face. “I can’t just leave with you. I don’t know you.” In a second of clarity, I realize that I almost got in his car. Thankfully my phone is tucked in my dress pocket, so I could attempt a call if he’s a psycho kidnapper.