“And new clothes.”
“New clothes?” he objected. “What’s wrong with these?” He glanced down to his brand-new khaki’s and white button up shirt.
“Like I said.” She glanced him up and down. “We can do better.”
He blew out a breath, not wanting to argue, and pointed to her note pad. “Okay, new hair, new clothes… What else?”
She used the pen to toy with her bottom lip, and he immediately looked away. There were many things he had the ability to ignore…like how her eyes crinkled up in the corners every time she laughed, or the delicate way she pushed her hair from her face when she was nervous… but her lips—
“Tattoo,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
He turned to her again, slowly comprehending what she’d just said. “I’m not getting a tattoo.” He chuckled.
“Why not?”
“My Gran would roll over in her grave, that’s why.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “All Alpha’s have tattoos.”
“So?”
“I thought you wanted my help?”
“I do, Fe. I just don’t think ‘Mom’ tattooed across my chest is going to get me there.”
She pressed the pen to her lip again and held back a laugh. “You need me more than I thought, Elliot”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Fe waved her hand in the air, and Becca, their server, immediately came to the table. “You guys need something?”
Fe’s eyes never left Elliot’s, but she leaned forward, and rested her elbows on the table. “I have a question for you,” she said to Becca. “Tattoos. Yes or no?”
Becca didn’t even hesitate before answering. “Yes.” Then hurried away to another table before Elliot could get a word in edgewise.
He paused, narrowed his eyes, and a tiny grin cracked the surface of his lips. Not because of what she’d said, but because everything he thought he knew about women was blown out of the water. Like the time he found his lost tooth in his mother’s drawer and realized the tooth fairy wasn’t real. His grin widened, and he leaned back in his seat. “Point taken,” he lifted his chin. “What else you got?”
“Swagger.”
“Swagger?” he drawled.
“You know, walk like a man, move like a man…”
“I know what swagger is,” he choked. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, I am a man, therefor—”
Fe covered her mouth, as if to hide a grin. “I don’t mean to offend you, Elliot, and maybe that’s not the right way to describe it. Here…” She sat straighter in her seat, scanning the bar. “There.” She nudged her chin to the front of the restaurant. “See that guy over there?” She waited for him to turn and look. “That’s what I mean. See how he exudes confidence? How his shoulders are nice and square, how his head is held high, and he’s looking at everyone and no one all at the same time? “
“Want me to get his number?” Elliot drawled.
She met his eyes, clearly not amused by the theatrics, and lowered her gaze to the paper. “Drink.” She added to the list. “Ask without asking.”
“Yeah, that’s not confusing at all.”
“Fight.”
“Fight?”
“Eight.” But she held up one finger, stopping any farther commentary. “Sports. And I don’t mean color runs, or mud whatever it is you do. I mean football, and not the video game versions.”
He met her stare, realizing for the first time, how serious she was. This wasn’t some silly conversation to her. She meant to help him and in any way she could.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “What’s wrong with video games?”
She shook her head, her eyes laughing in that comfortable way of hers. “Nothing, Elliot. There’s nothing wrong with video games.”
They continued working out the details, or rather, Fe continued working out the details, and Elliot listened. The more she spoke of it, the more excited she became, which in turn made him excited too. They only had four weeks for the transformation to take place, so they needed to get started. He could see it now: Mary coming home from her trip and him looking like a total stud. The only rule, and Fe made herself perfectly clear about this part, was that he had to listen to her. No arguing.
Easy enough.
At the end of the night, they walked into their shared apartment where she anchored the list to their refrigerator with a magnet that read “Nerdy by Nature.”
They both stared at it, like some complex instructions for building a time machine. “Eight steps to Alpha,” Fe said softly.
Elliot took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, as though he’d just gotten out of a twelve-hour study session.
Fe turned to him with sleepy eyes and stretched her arms overhead. “Well, I better get to bed. Big day tomorrow.”
He nodded, but couldn’t stop himself from looking back to the refrigerator again. “Yeah.”
She patted his shoulder one last time and then turned to the cabinet. She pulled out her Terminator glass from the lowest shelf, then proceeded to fill it half way with water. “You’re perfect the way you are. You know that, right?”
It was close to midnight, and the apartment was so quiet, he could hear the refrigerator running. Just a low rhythmic hum. No dogs were barking in the alley, no cars driving by on the street below. Just simple and cozy and quiet. The way he liked it. “Of course I am. I mean, look at me.” He waved his hand over his Khaki’s pants and untucked dress shirt. “God’s gift to women.”
She shot him a wry grin, then set her glass on the counter by the sink. “Night, Elli.”
He waited for her to go to her room, for the door to click closed behind her, then picked up the glass, rinsed it, and set it out to dry. “Night, Fe.”
Chapter 2
The science lab was a complete disaster. Not just a disaster, but a hideous one. There were beakers on every surface, globs of slime overfilling the sink and tables, and used equipment strewn over the entire room. Her students, her ungrateful bastards of students, had graciously left the mess for her to deal with.
Well…if she was being technical about it, they were Mrs. King’s students. Fe was only the lab technician hired to assist her. The one who wrote the curriculum, planned out each lesson, and tested each hypothesis to make sure her students had everything they needed for a successful experiment. By default, she also happened to be the one who got to clean up the mess.
Asses.
All of them.
They were all asses!
She didn’t care if they were eleven. By eleven, she was pretty much self-sufficient. These kids didn’t even realize slime belonged in the trashcan and not the laboratory sink.
She grabbed the large barrel trash from the corner of the room and began dragging it across the floor. Back and forth, back and forth, until it settled in as close to the sink as she could manage. Her long yellow gloves were already secure up by her shoulder, and she closed her eyes, diving hand first into the globules sink to fish out chunk after chunk of glue, borax, and food coloring.
“Mija,” she heard from behind her. “Mija, it looks like a unicorn gave birth it here. What happened?”
Fe gagged at the analogy, both grossed out and amused at the same time. “Hey, Mrs. Gomez. Did you come to rescue me?”
She heard the woman chuckle, then tsk her tongue, then glass beakers clinking together as they were removed from the tables. “Aye aye aye, these children,” she muttered. “They act like pigs!”
Mrs. G was her partner in crime, her colleague, and the only person at Hillman Academy she trusted. She was also the one who muttered profanity in Spanish and made Fe almost pee her pants on a daily basis.
“Any plans for the weekend, Mrs. G?” Fe asked, hoping to distract herself with one of Mrs. G’s stories.
“Oh, you know,” Mrs. G answered. “Dis an dat.”
“Go on,” Fe urged, and Mrs. Gomez didn’t disappoint.
For a solid sixty minutes, and with more passion than most display in their whole lives, Mrs. G wove an elaborate tale—about her son George, her two-year-old granddaughter who she loved more than life, and her husband Carlos, who was a lazy piece of shit. Her words.
“On Friday,” Mrs. Gomez continued, “I came home to find my fish-tank clouded like a watered down milkshake. I turned to my granddaughter, and I say “Nieta, what happened to the fish tank?
“’They were hungry,’ she tells me.
“Hungry!” Mrs. G. tsked her tongue, “Do you know what she did?” She muttered something unintelligible under her breath, not waiting for an answer. “She put whipped cream in the fish tank, Mija. Whipped cream!”
Fe laughed so hard, she had to squeeze her legs together so she wouldn’t pee. “Were the fish okay?”
“No,” she said, pursing her lips. “They were all belly up, floating on top of the tank like little orange sausages.” She sighed. “I told her they were sleeping, Mija. Lord forgive me, but I couldn’t bear to tell her the truth.”
“Didn’t she figure it out?”
“Oh no.” She shook her head sternly. “I told Carlos to run out and buy some more.”
Fe grinned. “Did he do it?”
“Si,” Mrs. G said, finally cracking a grin.
Fe laughed. “See, Mrs. G, you complain about him, but he’s not all bad.”
Mrs. G shrugged, but seemed charmed as she continued to wipe down the tables.
When all of the empties were settled on the rolling cart, Mrs. G opened her mouth again. “My granddaughter, she’s like you, Mija. So smart, but doesn’t make the best decisions.”
Fe stopped, her heart skipping a beat as she turned around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mrs. G flashed her a knowing glance, but said nothing more.
It was a harmless comment, one she knew bared more truth than not, but coming from Mrs. G, it stung. She dove her hand back in the water and pulled out the plug.
Was she referring to her transgressions at work? Or…maybe something else?
Fe swallowed hard, because Mrs. G always knew more than she let on.
Slightly out of breath, Fe grabbed the sponge, and began wiping down the stainless steel sink. Mrs. G had become like a second mother to her…or maybe like a nosey aunt who always shared her opinion, but hearing the judgment in her voice made Fe’s heart ache.
Not only because Mrs. G was the only person at Hillman’s who didn’t cast a critical glance every time she walked down the halls, but also because she considered them to be friends.
Cinching her flannel tighter at her waist, she wiped at her brow with the back of her forearm. Comfort was Fe number one objective. Jeans, graphic tees, and a flannel over top were her self-proclaimed uniform, yet sometimes, she feared her casual appearance made people not take her seriously. Made them think her naïve or foolish.
But she wasn’t like the other twenty-four-year old’s she knew. Unlike most of her peers, she was perfectly happy being alone. She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, a baby daddy, or any grand gesture of commitment. She was simply looking for a good time. Which was exactly what she’d gotten from Mr. Peeking, the new seventh grade English teacher in the 600 building.
She glanced over her shoulder at Mrs. G, suspicious that’s what she was referring to, and grabbed the mop and bucket from the corner of the room.
She stretched her neck from side to side, swearing the purple mark that Mr. Peeking’s—or rather Todd—had grossly bestowed on her collarbone a few days prior burned hotter than all the rest of her body. There was no doubt in her mind it was covered, but she adjusted her collar anyway and wheeled the bucket across the floor.
She hated hickies with a passion, but what she hated more, was the fact Todd had wooed her into kissing him at all, even against her better judgement. She knew not to get into relations with a colleague, realized it was bad idea even before he removed her shirt. But she was a single woman. A single woman with needs, which was the only way she could explain her odd behavior as of late.
Sloshing soapy water on the floor from the bucket, she took a deep breath. Yes, it was New Year’s Eve, and yes, she’d drank too many champagne cocktails, but she should have never gotten into that tickle fight with Elliot otherwise. She should have never let him pull her into his arms, or straddled him on their pull-out couch. And she should have never reached up, pulled his smooth, southern boy cheeks between her fingers, and kissed him.
Because she hadn’t been able to get his delicious mouth out of her mind ever since. He was her best friend. Her roommate for the past five years, but now every time she looked at him, she remembered how innocent, yet confident his kiss had been, and how he’d kissed her back so eagerly, even though they’d never even shared a peck before that night.
Water sloshed from the bucket to her Chuck Taylors, and she jumped backward, realizing she hadn’t been paying attention. She glanced down to her shoes, taking in the deep Burgundy canvas now drenched with soapy water.
“Are you okay, Mija?” Mrs. G asked. “You don’t seem yourself today.”
Fe nodded, then wheeled the bucket a few steps and got back to work. The truth was, not even kissing Mr. Peeking in the 600 building had made her forget about that kiss. Which was why she had to go forward with the plan to make Elliot alpha. It was a good plan. One which could be executed within a few weeks and would bring them back to ground zero. Friends. The best of friends.
With most of the slime removed from the floor—or all recognizable traces of it, Fe rolled the bucket back to the corner and dumped it. The gooey mess, whirled around in the drain, and she contemplated her situation. The good news was, she’d gotten hold of her bearings before either situation had gone beyond kissing. Both with Elliot and with Todd Peeking.
Unfortunately, her libido was still raging, possibly more so than ever before in her life, leaving her halfway wishing for a perfect stranger to have a one night stand with.
Vibrator.
She must get a vibrator.
With the room mostly tidied, Fe filled the sink with clean, warm, water and got down and dirty with the beakers and a bottle brush. But her mind kept slipping back to last night’s conversation at dinner. She still wasn’t sure why Elliot wanted Mary, but he wasn’t really asking her opinion. All she wanted was for her and Elliot to get past this. To prove that all the butterflies which came low in her stomach when he sat too close was from residual dopamine left over from their kiss. After all, dopamine was a hormone that mimicked cocaine, and since cocaine was highly addictive, it was only natural for her to feel these feelings even months later. Because she was addicted.
Therefore, the best thing to do was to make the substance of her addiction completely and utterly off limits. Given the fact Elliot was the best roommate she’d ever had in her life—one she wasn’t willing to give that up over a simple kiss—this plan was the best solution. It was obvious. Get Elliot a girlfriend, and everything would go back to normal. Even if that girlfriend sounded like Mary flippin’ Poppins!
She continued working with Mrs. G until the science lab was clean and sparkling and ignored the little voice in her head that asked why she didn’t feel like this with Todd Peeking? She’d just kissed him a few days prior, so in theory, he should be the one giving her butterflies… but she wouldn’t let herself get caught up in over analysis. She would go forward with the plan, and everything would go back to normal. Easy as Pi.
It was just after 4pm when she set her keys on the counter and glanced around their shared apartment. “Elli, are you home?”
After a moment with no answer, she took the bundle of mail from under her arm and walked down the hallway to check the rest of the apartment. With any other human, it would be obvious if he was home or not. His truck was parked in their garage downstairs. But you never knew with Elliot.
Somedays he got a wild hair up his butt and decided to ride his bike to work—more than some days actually. Even on hot sticky days l
ike this one. He was always training for something. Some mud run, or triathlon, or other such silliness. She sorted the mail standing at his bedroom doorway, then threw his bills to his annoyingly organized desk and headed for her own room. Having not peed one time all day, she stopped at their shared bathroom to relieve her bladder. The front door opened as soon as she pulled down her pants. “Elli, is that you?” Or course it was him. He was like an alarm clock, coming and going at the exact time every day.
“Are you talkin’ to me while you pee again?” came his thick southern drawl.
She grinned and settled her bottom on the cool plastic seat. “Yep. But it’s only because I love you. You should feel honored, really you should.”
“Oh, I do,” he muttered. “Trust me.”
The deadpan tone in his voice made her giggle. That is, until he pounded on the wooden door making her jump. “Hurry up! I need to take a shower.”
“Hold your horses!” she yelled back at him. “Do you want me to get a bladder infection?” There. That would shut him up.
She heard him groan, then his footsteps fade away as he shut himself in his room.
After taking her sweet time, she pulled her panties back up to her waist and sighed. This was, and by every stretch of the word, the only down side to sharing an apartment. They had a killer location, an amazing view of the ocean, and between the two of them, it was completely easy on the budget. But the fact they only had one restroom between them was an annoyance she wished there was a solution for.
She zipped up her fly, feeling ten pounds lighter, then leisurely washed her hands.
Needing a shower or not, Elliot needed to learn some manners.
When she opened the door a few minutes later, he was standing there, his button up shirt plastered to his chest, and one eyebrow cocked up to his forehead, like he knew exactly what she was doing.
She wrinkled her nose. “Move. You’re all sweaty.”
Not only did he not move, but he braced his legs even wider, taking up even more space in front of the door. “I am,” he nodded. A grin slowly transforming his entire face.
Eight Steps to Alpha: A Nerdy by Nature Novel Page 2
