Confession Of A Nerdoholic

by Savannah Blevins

  Oliver placed his goggles on the counter. “I’m busy right now, Brett.”

  The boy, Brett, who I instantly didn’t like, looked at me and chuckled. “Is this your idea of a date, Edwards?”

  Yes.

  I moved toward him, my hand gripped around a piece of lab equipment I seriously considered chucking at the idiot’s head. Oliver’s hand wound into the back of my jacket, tugging me back. His arm went around my waist. “There’s this thing called Google, Brett. You should try it. Though, to warn you, it still requires you to read. So, good luck with that.”

  Oliver grabbed his backpack and motioned me forward. I begrudgingly followed his lead, but I still shot Brett a dirty look. I’m crazy, the look implied. Don’t mess with my nerd.

  Once outside the classroom, Oliver breathed again. “I’m sorry about that. Unfortunately, Brett’s manners are as deficient as his brain cells.”

  “You don’t actually help that asshole with his homework, do you?”

  Oliver laughed. “Hell, no. It’s not my responsibility to teach a caveman to make fire. Besides, he only asked because you were there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Again, Oliver looked at me. My lips. My crescent moon earrings. My neck where my heart beat. “Would you like to go get lunch?”

  “I’d love to.” I glanced at my watch and slumped when I read the time. “But I have class.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” he said instantly. “The library like we planned.”

  I nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  I’d be there with bells and butterflies, come hell, high water, or an apocalyptic event. Even then, I would kill zombies to get to Oliver.

  “Could I walk you to class?”

  Nod. Nod. Nod. I had bobbleheaditis again.

  Oliver nudged my elbow with his, and we started off toward my class. I would have to unintentionally run into him more often.

  Chapter Eleven

  STUDY BUDDY

  Tuesday came, and so did Wednesday and Thursday. Oliver and I started a new routine. We were officially study partners. We met at the library almost every day. Every glorious, perfect day. We moved to a larger table on the other side of the main floor lobby so we would both have enough room for our large array of books. It was our table.

  I’d managed a halfway decent grade on my quiz last week, but if I wanted to survive my father’s wrath, I had to do better. A lot better. Yes, despite my pep talk, I still worried about it. Bartholomew Duncan wasn’t the kind of dad to let you start being in control. I didn’t tell Oliver about the stakes, and everything I had to lose, but he knew I really needed to bring my grade up. He didn’t ask why, so I didn’t offer an explanation. He was perfect like that. In those rare moments we weren’t enjoying the peace and quiet together, we talked about everything.

  We talked about our favorite books, comics and classics, and our favorite music, which boiled down to anything we could torture doing karaoke alone in our cars. He told me about his dream to be a chemical engineer, and I told him about my dream to own a business. I didn’t mention the cupcakes.

  I couldn’t.

  Oliver still didn’t know those cupcakes that mysteriously showed up on his book every day belonged to me. I would either show up early for our study session and sneak him a cupcake before I officially arrived, or wait until I left and then circle back around and leave one.

  Yes. I was crazy.

  I was well aware of the exact amount of crazy it took to pull off such a scam, but I couldn’t bear to tell Oliver the truth. I loved the way he smiled at me. I loved his stories and his vast array of ridiculous t-shirts. I didn’t want to jeopardize this good thing we had going by admitting I’d been, and still was, secretly admiring him.

  I had a box of cupcakes in my backpack, awaiting deployment. It would have to wait until after our study session, though. I had another quiz tomorrow. In perfect nerd fashion, Oliver was bound and determined to make sure I got an A this time. He made a copy of my list of terms for the week, and handed me back the original.

  He took the top half and I took the bottom as we began writing everything out. About halfway through, I noticed him glancing around, and then I heard a distinct rumbling sound coming from the direction of his stomach. I nudged his elbow. “You okay there, champ?”

  He leaned back in the seat and rubbed his stomach. “Yeah, I missed breakfast this morning. I was kind of counting on…” He threw another glance around the room, but then stopped.

  I sat up a little straighter. “You were counting on what?”

  He grinned and turned his head away from me.

  I leaned over to see his face. “Are you blushing?”

  I couldn’t resist. Oliver blushing was just about the sexiest thing I had ever seen. I could think of about a hundred different ways to make that boy blush, and eleven different positions.

  “It’s nothing, really. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “Oh, but I do.” I inched closer. “Oh, I really, really do.”

  He fiddled with his hands in his lap as he blew out a breath. He was going to be difficult. Always playing hard to get. Oliver didn’t know, but I was determined to be reigning champ at Capture the Nerd. I placed my hand on the back of his chair and leaned my body toward his. “Tell me.”

  “Someone usually leaves me a cupcake. At least, they have been for the past couple weeks,” he blurted out, his cheeks beaming a glossy red.

  Everything inside of me knotted up. “Oh, really? Who?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. I get up to go to the bathroom, or to get a book. When I come back, it’s sitting there.”

  I examined his face, and his stomach let out another rumble. I smiled sweetly at him. “Are you wanting your cupcake?”

  A slight smile crept across his face. “They’re really good.” Then his smile turned down at the edges. “I don’t know why they don’t give it to me when I’m sitting here.”

  I made my eyes stay on Oliver and not look down at my backpack containing the box of cupcakes that seemed to be calling my name. “Umm, well, you could always go and see what happens,” I suggested. “I’d really hate for you to miss out on your cupcake because of me.”

  He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Are you being serious?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Go, cupcake freak.” I laughed, pushing him out of his seat. “Go get a book or take a walk down the street. I promise if some stranger drops a cupcake off, I won’t touch it.”

  He eyed me warily as he stood, and I motioned him on. “Go.”

  As soon as he turned the corner, I jerked my cell out of my bag, hitting the first button on my speed dial.

  “Sloan?” I was in panic mode. “Where are you?”

  Sloan’s voice sang angelically back to me. “Today is officially ride a cowboy day.” I could practically see her bouncing as she skipped down the street. “I’m on my way to the café to see Preston. Want to come watch me make a fool of myself?”

  “No. I need you to come to the library right now.”

  “Why?” Her voice dropped down to a whisper. “You didn’t kidnap him, did you? Because I’m pretty sure you should ask his permission before you gag someone.”

  “Sloan.” I did not have time for her jokes right now. “I need you to listen to me. I think he has a thing for the cupcake girl. He left to see if she would leave him a cupcake, but I can’t leave him a cupcake because then he would ask me about the girl, and the girl would be me! So, I need you to come here right now and get the cupcake and put it on his book while I distract him.”

  There was long pause. “Oh my gosh, Elle…you should have just gagged him.”

  I kept glancing back over my shoulder for signs of Oliver. “Sloan, please. I need my best friend. Help me.”

  Sloan sighed. “Okay, okay, I’m on my way.”

  I clicked my phone off and glanced impatiently over my shoulder trying to calculate how long it would take her to get here. Within a couple of minutes, I spotte
d Oliver walking back down the corridor in my direction. A very distinctive disappointed pout came across his lips as his eyes raked the desk in front of me. “No luck, sweet tooth,” I explained, using my best Vanna White impression to showcase the empty desk. “She’s obviously not going to show herself in my presence.”

  He looked at me, still frustrated. “You think I made her up, don’t you?”

  I couldn’t stop the grin. Oh, I knew she was real. A little light on the sanity and a little heavy on the nerd appreciation, but real nonetheless.

  “She is real,” he said.

  I raised a questioning brow. “She? How do you know for sure it’s a she?”

  A look of pure disappointment engulfed him, and I burst out laughing. So darn cute. He definitely hadn’t considered that option. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sloan pretending to read a book next to the magazine rack. I jumped out of my seat. “How about we both leave and see what happens?”

  “Okay.” He looked at me, his lips pressed tighter together. “She is real, though.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and pointed to the black bag on the floor and quickly followed after him. “So how long should we give this imagin—mystery person of yours?”

  His brows knotted. “You are going to feel really bad when we come back and there is a cupcake sitting on that desk.”

  No. I was going to feel really tortured watching him eat it. “If there is a cupcake sitting on that desk, I will personally cook you a five course meal.”

  Because tricking your dream guy into a date is almost as good as dislocating his balls. “There will be a cupcake on that desk,” he said, as if convincing himself.

  We waited a few minutes as he impatiently browsed the books along the shelf at the other end of the library. He busied himself reading the previews, and I busied myself with figuring out how long it would take to get his pants off. He placed the book back on the shelf and looked over at me. I knew that was his cue for he’d waited long enough. I motioned him forward. “Lead the way.”

  We walked silently back out toward his desk, and sure enough, two of my pink cupcakes sat on his book. Damn Sloan. She was only supposed to put one. I never left more than one. I didn’t want to risk him offering it to someone else. His pace quickened as he saw it, and I swore I saw him hop once. “I told you.” He beamed, picking up the cupcakes.

  “Yeah, yeah, so you win.” I tried to appear as if I wasn’t happy. “I guess I owe you a meal.”

  As the words left my mouth, my breath caught. Sitting beneath the cupcakes he had picked up was a little pink note. My heart sank.

  Damn freaking Sloan.

  He picked it up and unfolded it. It took everything in me not to grab it out of his hands. His eyes ran down the note and his cheeks suddenly flashed red.

  I leaned up on my tiptoes. “W-w-what does it say?”

  Because God only knew what Sloan would come up with. I wouldn’t surprise me if she used explicit diagrams. His cheeks flashed red again and he bit his lip.

  “Oliver?”

  His gaze dropped to the floor and he crumbled the note in a fist. He turned his face away from me and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Um.” His lips pressed tight together and he unconsciously adjusted his glasses. “I think…I think maybe they are making fun of me?”

  My heart sank. “What do you mean?”

  He let out a small sigh and turned further away from me. “I think maybe it’s someone having fun at my expense.”

  At his expense? Oh, hell no. “What does the note say?”

  He shook his head. “It’s okay, Elle. I’m used to being the nerd. It’s nothing new.”

  “The note,” I said, and this time it wasn’t a request. “Give me the note.”

  Embarrassment flooded him and his fingers unwound one by one, revealing the crumbled pink paper. I quickly grabbed it and smoothed out the edges.

  In pretty swirling letters I read:

  Made with obsession for the nerd of my dreams.

  I raised my eyes back to his, but he wouldn’t look at me. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I feel really stupid,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “I should have known better.”

  I opened my mouth, but words didn’t come out. I wanted to tell him that he took it all wrong. The note wasn’t making fun of him. It was the truth. Sloan had written no lies, but how could I tell him that? His emotions were vaguely flashing through his eyes, and I stood motionless before him.

  Hurt. Embarrassment. Pain.

  I crumbled the note in my hand and threw it on the table.

  Sloan was dead.

  However, Oliver Edwards was not about to leave this library thinking he was anything other than the hottest freaking thing to ever grace the corrupted inner workings of my mind. I stepped forward and grabbed his shirt, pulling him until he was inches from my face with a little more force than he was ready for.

  He stumbled forward into me. He looked down, staring at the hand gripped around his shirt, and I heard him swallow before he looked me back in the eye. “Elle?”

  I jerked him again and his mouth clamped shut. I was going to do the talking and he was going to listen. I intensified my grip on him and scooted up until I knew my breath would hit his face. He needed to hear this, and I needed to say it. No more sidelines for Eloise. It was time I got in the game.

  “Listen to me, Oliver. I need to explain something to you, and I’m only going to say it once.” I took a gulp of air, pulling myself up to look him dead in the eye. “You’re a nerd, and you’re hot. Get used to it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  SURPRISE

  I’d obviously lost my mind. Tee totally, rattling around, nothing but rocks, lost it. Here I was with my hand gripped around Oliver’s shirt like I was ready for an eight second ride in the middle of the library. Not only that, but my dumb ass told him he was a hot nerd. I said it to his face. Out loud.

  There was no backing down now. It was time to suck it up and tell the truth. Oliver’s lips parted. He gaped at me like I’d spoken death threats to him in Chinese. I slowly loosened my grip on his shirt. I wanted him to get my point, not scare him out of his skinny jeans. “That note was not making fun of you.”

  Those beautiful blues eyes beamed down at me. “But,” he began, and I shook my head with a silencing click of my tongue.

  “Nerds are hot, Oliver,” I said again. “Rainbow orgasmically hot. That is a fact you are going to have to accept.”

  “Elle, you don’t have to try to make me feel better.” He reached up to remove my hand from his shirt, but I gripped it tight.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  He raised an eyebrow and I went completely livid. I had told him he was hot to his face, and he was going to stand there and pretend I was lying to him.

  Oh, hell no. That would not be happening.

  I had admitted one of my biggest secrets, and by gosh, he would accept it. I glanced over and spotted Sloan standing on top of a table in the back corner, her eyes wide with excitement. She knew me too well.

  Sure, I had some social anxiety. I normally didn’t like people in general. There were certain people, though, special people who made this imaginary cut in my mind. Sloan and Ava were two of those people. Oliver had made the short list simply based on general perfection, but his kindness at volunteering to tutor me put him over the edge. That anxiety I felt when I imagined meeting him was gone. I no longer had to worry about whether or not this perfect guy I’d created in my head was a fantasy. Oliver was definitely real. In fact, he was better than the fantasy version, and I had to make him see that.

  I smiled at Sloan. She was about to owe me five bucks for her ticket to the nerd show. I turned my attention back to Oliver. I slowly moved my hand from his shirt up to his neck and then tangled my fingers in his hair. It was softer than I expected.

  “So naïve.” I smiled and a confused look crossed his faced. “Just so we’re clear. This isn’t to make you feel better. It’s t
o satisfy my own obsession.”

  I clenched the fingers in his hair and the adrenaline coursed through me. I jerked his head down to mine and planted my lips directly upon his.

  Such cool, soft, delicious lips.

  I pulled him off balance and he was about to fall into me, so I pushed him backward, crashing through our chairs, until he finally hit the table. I took my free hand and shoved his hips up on the table, pushing him further back. I had to crawl up on the table myself to keep my lips on his. As I straddled him, I pulled his hair, leading his head down toward the table. I let my other hand snake its way through those brown locks, and then I pulled. Hard.

  He gasped into my mouth, which was exactly what I wanted. I let my tongue slip in, tasting the sweet flavor of icing, and I reflexively ground myself up against him. That was when I felt his hands. Not on my face, shoulders, or back, but rather on my ass. Both of his hands gripped directly around my ass as he moaned into my mouth.

  Oliver was trying to kill me.

  Death by nerd. The new epidemic.

  I flexed my fingers in his hair as I devoured his lips. Just call me Mufasa because Oliver was my innocent prey and I’d taken him down like an injured antelope. Then I remembered I was in the middle of the library. I needed to keep my control.

  I gave him one last hard go around before I pulled back, ripping my lips from his. He gasped and followed me up. I scooted back off the table, admiring the view. His hair was in complete sex head disarray while he panted, trying to catch his breath. His hand moved up to straighten his glasses that sat off kilter on his face. I was about to tackle him again, library be damned, when I noticed about ten sets of eyes staring at us.

  Nosy bastards.

  Couldn’t people have a good go at it in the middle of the library without attracting attention? I took one last long look at him before admitting that it would have to wait. I stepped up to my perfect nerd, letting myself stand between his legs. “Oliver Edwards,” I said, with a stern tone as I ran my hand up his leg, “don’t ever let me hear you doubt yourself again. You got that?”