How to Seduce a Band Geek

by Cassie Mae

  But when I walk into the debate room, our desks have been reorganized into a large square, a space slicing it right in half. There’s a sign on the far side of the room that says, “Affirmative” while the other side says, “Negative.” The subject on the board is titled “Vending machines in schools.” The Affirmative side is already packed, leaving only one seat open. I want to jet my way right into it only because I don’t want to argue with these people who are obviously passionate about their daily dose of candy and soda, but I get halfway across the room and spot Levi sitting in the negative section. He’s bent over, tying his shoe, a small black case sitting next to his foot. His blond hair has fallen in front of his eyes, almost hitting his khaki shorts.

  Forget joining the affirmative side. I nearly fall as my feet change direction.

  Okay…do I sit next to him, or give him some breathing room? I’m wearing a kickass outfit designed from our run-in from this morning, and my dark hair is curled to perfection. I smell like green apples—according to my body wash label—so what other reason besides the fact I’m hecka nervous do I have not to sit next to him?

  He straightens, and pushes his gorgeous locks from his eyes. When he catches me standing in front of the negative side having my own internal debate, he melts my limbs as he laughs and mouths the words I painted across my abdomen: NOT A MORNING PERSON.

  Then he totally pats the desk next to him.

  Oh how I want to dance to that seat, but I totally keep my cool and do the sexy-sashay-butt-wiggle thing the whole way there.

  “Sorry about this morning,” he says through those beautiful lips of his. “I’m still not used to how loud the motor is on the moped.”

  My smile is so big I’m sure he can see all my teeth. “Oh, it’s totally no big deal. It wasn’t all you. Zoe and Zak were too noisy in the next room so I was a bit on edge already. Then you came along, and the buzzing was like, ‘AGH! Bees in my brain!’ But it really is no big deal. I sort of like the noise of mopeds, and I don’t care if you drive by my house that early. What were you doing up at four anyway? Oh, you so don’t have to answer that if you don’t want, and I’m not trying to complain about it…obviously, this outfit totally means I’m joking about it. I mean it’s not like you should avoid the road by my house just because of me, you know? So totally cool, and I’m sorry for squawking at you. I think I was mostly awake anyway so no big deal.”

  His eyes are so round by the time I finish yabbering. I get a rush of panic through my body, and all the breath I’m holding makes my cheeks puffer. He chuckles as my face bursts into flames, and he starts twirling his mechanical pencil between his fingers.

  “Glad it was no big deal.”

  “No big deal.” Let’s see how many times I can say that before the teacher walks in. I think I’m already up to a million.

  “Sorry. I know Zoe’s trying to move, but…”

  I nod, my eyes moving to his fingers now curled around his pencil, tracing over words he’s already written in his notebook. “Yeah, she’s still trying to get the money, I think.”

  “Money blows.”

  “Totally.” Even though I really don’t know about it. I know my parents work their butts off, but I don’t starve or go without electricity. I am going to do my bestest for a scholarship or something, since I don’t want to end up like Zoe, still living with Mom and Dad because I dorked around most of high school.

  I lick my lips and set my chin on the heel of my hand, batting my eyes at his loveliness. “So, you have a new ride?” Laying it on thick ‘cause he’s beautiful, and I want to hop on the back of that thing with him ASAP.

  He lets out a hollow laugh, and digs his pencil farther into his paper. “Yeah. It’s not the Rover, but it works.”

  I open my mouth to ask about having a ride on it sometime, but dang Mrs. Young’s timing. She scoots around the desks, arms full of manila folders, and stops in the center of the room. Her messy red hair is piled on top of her head with about thirty pencils. She pulls one out and immediately starts taking roll.

  Cold metal hits my arm, and I jump, eyes turning straight to Levi, who gives me a smile and nudges me with his notebook again.

  My heart goes to my ears, punching my eardrums as I read the words there. Levi Mason is passing me notes. The granola bar I had this morning does a little jig in my tummy.

  I have an extra helmet. I can take you home after school if you want.

  Heck yes, I want!

  “Sierra?”

  My pencil is out and scribbling my answer on Levi’s notebook. It takes a cough and poke in the shoulder for me to finally answer Mrs. Young.

  “Oh…yeah, I’m here.”

  A couple people laugh, but pfft about them. I’m passing notes old school style with a beautiful boy next to me.

  Yes! My feet send their thanks. :)

  Hmm…maybe the explanation mark was a little much.

  He silent chuckles at my response and starts writing some more. I wonder if he’ll let me keep the paper when we’re done. I can put it in my journal or scan it into my computer. Have it as my desktop background or something. Create a collage with his yummy handwriting and his face and all that.

  No…maybe that’s a little obsessive.

  I bounce on the balls of my feet, eyes flashing over to his hand every half a second. Gosh, what is he writing that could take him so long to get that paper back to me?

  “Okay, before we start today’s debate, our yearly mentorship program is about to start, and the administration of both schools would like a count before the end of the week. I know most of you know how it works, but bear with me as I explain for those of you who don’t.”

  I straighten my back and pick at the edge of the desk, turning my attention to Mrs. Young and this mentorship thing. I’ve heard it looks great on college apps.

  “Each year we ask a few of you to mentor an eighth grader who will be joining our student body the following year. It’s a good opportunity to make them feel welcome before they get here, but also to answer any questions or concerns they have about high school curriculum. And I’m sorry, seniors, this is only available to juniors and sophomores unless we don’t get enough participants. We’d like them to have their mentor here next year when they join us.”

  I inch forward in my seat, waiting for the cue to raise my hand. I’m not seeing a downside to this thing, unless the eighth grader’s a total biotch. And maybe Levi will see how awesome I am by giving my time to a helpless thirteen-year-old.

  The notebook slides under my nose again.

  Cool program. Did it in 8th. Guy was awesome. You gonna give it a shot?

  Hmm…it’s a new sheet of paper (dang, ‘cause I really want that other one) so he must’ve been writing something different before and it wasn’t to me. Oh well. He’s writing to me now.

  Mrs. Young is going through the folders she brought in, saying something, but I’m too busy writing Levi back to pay attention anymore.

  Thinking about it.

  I go to slide it back, but he keeps it on my desk and writes with his arm super close to mine. There’s some sort of magical static that zaps between us. I wonder if he feels it too.

  You should. Then he smiles at me. Oh those lips!

  Mrs. Young sighs, then asks the room, “Anyone interested?”

  My hand goes up so fast I accidentally whack Levi’s knuckles. We both shake our hands out, and I put my other arm in the air, very carefully this time.

  There’s only two other people who raise their hands. Mrs. Young starts with them first, flicking through folders and clucking her tongue. When she gets to me, I settle my hand back on the desk, very aware of Levi’s grin. I make sure my face is totally composed, and my lips poke out in this pucker that I think is supposed to be sexy, but I’m not sure if I pull it off.

  Mrs. Young plops the folder on my desk and goes back to the center of the room, throwing the rest to the floor by her feet. The notebook hits my arm again, and my cheeks grow hotter and hotter a
s I look down at Levi’s handwriting.

  I’m not a morning person either. ;)

  “I know you probably want to look at your eighth graders’ profiles and start filling out your own,” Mrs. Young says, and I have to really pull my attention away from that winky face to pay attention. “But put away the folders ‘till after class.”

  Curiosity may kill me this period, but I listen, tucking the folder into my backpack and sitting up straight like a good girl. And with the way Levi scoots a little closer to me and gives me heart melting smiles, I pat myself on the back for being so cute and irresistible, even if it only lasts a few seconds.

  Chapter 3

  The Lucky Charm dude must’ve shot me with a clover tipped arrow today.

  “Sierra?” Mrs. Young says, stopping me from falling into step with Levi as he heads out of the classroom. “There’s an orientation for all mentors in the tech hall at 2:30.”

  What? If I’d known this maybe I wouldn’t have shot my hand into the air. Now I’m going to miss out on that moped ride with the God of Sexiness.

  My shoulders droop. “Okay.”

  One of these days, I’ll invent a time machine.

  Levi’s already halfway down the hall, but yay for me, I know where he’s headed. And because I’m so very popular (cough, cough) I can make it there before him because he’ll get stopped by a million people while they avoid me like I’ve got a boil on my butt.

  Taking the long way to his locker, I adjust my bra and reapply my lip gloss. I get called a couple names on my way there. You know, the same old “cock slinger” (whatever the heck that means) or the ever popular “tease” or “prude.” So, I like to make myself look pretty, but don’t put out. I just wish they’d leave me alone.

  I round the corner. Levi beat me to his locker. He swings his backpack around and starts swapping books. The thin black case he had in Debate is sitting between his feet.

  One more boob adjustment, and I go in.

  “Hey, Lev—”

  “There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day.”

  Okay…who is this girl who just interrupted my amazing opening line of “Hey?” She doesn’t even look sorry about it, tightening her frizzy ponytail and blinking her tiny eyes about twenty times as if that is the sexiest thing ever.

  Levi waves at me—thanks for the acknowledgement, I suppose—and gives Blinky one of those cute guy half smiles. Um, I want one!

  “What’s up?” he asks, that smile still set on his lips. I wonder if he’ll keep that up when it’s my turn.

  Blinky blinks a few hundred more times. “Vicks wants me to go over the fingering with you again. You free tonight?”

  Fingering? What the hell?

  Levi shakes his head and sucks in a breath through his teeth. I’m still sort of floating around awkwardly behind him, trying not to be super obvious that I was here first and I have to talk to him too.

  “Sorry.” He pushes his jacket into his crowded locker. Wow, how much crap does he have in there? “I can’t tonight,” he says as papers scatter the floor. Both Blinky and I dive down to help him. His cheeks turn an adorable shade of red at me before he turns back to her. “Early tomorrow should be okay though.”

  Blink. Blink. Blink. I’m going to glue her eyes open.

  “Great.” She hands him the last paper from the floor, and we straighten. “We’ll meet in the band hall then. We can use one of the rooms.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Now we’re all floating around because Blinky doesn’t know when a conversation is over. Her tiny eyes (whenever they’re open) keep going up and down Levi’s body like she’s trying to memorize every feature for a portrait she wants to draw. Or a shrine she’ll make. I know I have no claim on him, and I probably totally space out like that when I look at him, but still… I’m ready to attack her, claws out and teeth bared.

  “Uh…” Levi mutters, and we both snap into focus. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Oh!” Blink. “Sure, yeah. Bye!” She waves and sort of swoons down the hall. I pledge here and now never to look that pathetic over a guy, even one as adorable as Levi.

  He turns to me, and that half smile is all mine now. Oh, maybe it’s a swoon drug, and it can’t be helped. I send out mental apologies to Blinky Blinkerson.

  “Sorry about that,” he says, stuffing a folder in between two books in his locker. “We don’t have much time to talk now, but can I walk you to your next class?”

  If my knees are able to do so, then yes!

  I swivel on my heel as he forces his locker closed and picks up that case. I beg my cheeks not to blow up like balloons and stick out my chest.

  “I’ve got this thing for that mentorship program after school,” I say in what I hope is this crazy sexy voice, even though the words are super boring.

  “Okay.”

  Guess I’m not doing the sexy thing right. My shoulders slump, bringing my boobs to a not so obvious position. “So, um, thanks for the offer to take me home, but I don’t want to make you wait for who knows how long just to drive me a mile.”

  He nods, then waves his hair from his eyes. “Do you have a way home?”

  “My feet aren’t broken.” I smile and kick my legs out in this weird hop that makes him laugh but makes me feel like a dork.

  “Maybe call Zoe? She can pick you up, right?”

  Seriously, it’s no big deal, but his concern is cute anyway. “Forgot my phone today. But don’t worry about it. I’ve been walking to and from school every day this year. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  He sure doesn’t look like he’s going to “not worry about it.” His brows are all pulled together, and he’s chewing on his tongue or cheek or gum, or something.

  “Uh, I didn’t realize you walked every day. I would’ve offered a ride before now.”

  I shrug. It’s not like walking is some form of torture.

  “Well, I’ll take a rain check then.”

  He’s turning red. It’s adorable, but makes no sense at all. Usually I’m the one who gets all flustered around him. “Yeah, okay.”

  We get to my class way too soon. He sort of does this fist bump thing I totally fumble on, but we laugh so it’s all cool, I guess. I’ll have to work on my sexy skills though if he’s fist bumping me as a goodbye.

  I watch him take off down the hall, that thin black case bouncing in his hand. Huh, I’ve never seen him with that before today, and I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask.

  Same thing with his moped this morning. I must look like a total space case when I’m around him. Like Blinky. Ugh.

  Next time we talk, I’ll focus on stuff about him and not if my boobs look good.

  ***

  I’d all but forgotten about the manila folder in my backpack until Mr. Radford asks us to pull them out during this boring-tation.

  I sit next to Sydney, who’s squished between Adam and me. Her hand knocks with mine as we both reach for our folders by our feet. Her million rings scratch my knuckles, and I tell her for the twentieth time today she needs to cut back on the bling. Then she starts kissing all her jewelry, like seriously tonguing and making out with them, and I crack up.

  “Girls…pay attention.” Mr. Radford reprimands. Both me and Sydney purse our lips and stifle our laughter, while Adam mouths, “Girls…” and gives us the same shut-up-and-listen look we just got from the guidance counselor.

  The lights flick off, and as my eyes adjust to the projection screen, I notice Adam’s fingers wiggling toward Sydney’s. What is this new development? My eyes glue to that spot, watching him mentally wrestle with the nerve to grab her fingers. Sydney isn’t oblivious either. She doesn’t move a muscle, her eyes focused on the PowerPoint presentation. But I can tell by the nervous grin on her face, she wants him to close the space between their hands too.

  I almost grab them and force them together myself. They’d be adorable. Maybe I can live vicariously through Sydney with their first kiss, first date, first everything that comes aft
er that. Since the guy I like hasn’t shown a blip of interest in me in the two years I’ve known him.

  Except, he did offer me a ride today. That’s a plus.

  Their darn hands are still not looped. I sigh, open my folder, and squint through the darkness at the words.

  The first page is some sort of form, asking what classes I’m taking and what I like about the school. Blah, blah, dumb crap this and dumb crap that. What a waste of paper, since they’ve already assigned someone to me.

  The second page has a list of stuff I’m supposed to go over with my mentee. Like where the cafeteria is, the main office, the gym and auditorium. Okay… so a school tour is in order. Then they want me to go over the school’s activities for the upcoming year. All the fundraisers, the plays, the programs, the sports events. Yadda yadda. All stuff any smart person who’s going into high school can figure out themselves. I mean, I did, but I know there’s other valuable stuff not in the packet I can teach this eighth grader. Social stuff. Like where all the cliques sit in different areas of the place, and who they should avoid (ahem, Kevin and his asshole friends). This person will be praising the heavens they had me to guide them through this place called high school.

  I flip the page again, casting a glance at my two friends’ hands real quick before I check out the next paper in the packet. Eep! Adam’s fingers are so close, I’m sure Sydney can feel it with the small hairs on the back of her hand. Do it, do it, do it!

  I watch him take in a big breath and slide his pinky over hers. Sydney jumps the smallest of jumps, then… oh no… she pulls her hand back and tucks it in her lap.

  Sadness. I don’t even want to look at Adam whose freckled face is probably sending out smoke signals. He snatches his hand away and starts intensely reading his packet, as if the whole thing was an accident. Sydney sniffles next to me.

  I need to talk to my friends, but Mr. Radford is still going on and on through the PowerPoint, and I’m afraid to even whisper anything to Sydney.

  Tightening my fingers around my pencil, I go back to my packet and see cute loopy writing on a similar form I have to fill out. I put the page inches from my nose so I can read it better. Bad contacts in the dark are real winning combos for me today.