Never Been Nerdy(31)

He’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me…

Instead, Dean drops a feather-light kiss on my cheek, and fists my coat at my back, like he could be struggling for control. Yes, lose control!

“I’m nobody’s chump – not anymore. Might be a good idea for you to remember that.”

With that, he ushers me out of his place where I’m left standing, staring stupidly at the door.

Did he just say no to me, again?! I end up moving closer to his door since I hear talking coming from inside.

“And that, gentlemen, is how it’s done!” Dean crows what can only be his victory speech to his dogs.

Oh, I give him forty-eight hours before he’s begging to sleep with me.

Game on, Carter.





Chapter 9





It’s Sunday night. A long Sunday, full of preparing, of trying to relax, and vehemently trying to stop looking at my phone to see if Dean is going to text. I want him to text. Maybe I can even persuade him that good karma grows exponentially if great sex if involved between the two people.

Alas, I have work tomorrow. So much of it, in fact, that I need to be awake and lucid and ready to kick some corporate ass at 7:00 am. I haven’t ironed any of my skirts or blouses, and I still haven’t decided which pair of heels to wear with my potential outfit for tomorrow morning, and I’m trying to do some last minute preparations for the meeting tomorrow by trying to memorize an Encyclopedia’s worth of stats and facts.

Being an adult sucks.

This means I’m going to have to wake up early early tomorrow morning to get my shit in gear. Which means I need to be sleeping, right now.

And that elusive bitch isn’t going to be closing my eyes anytime soon.

I need to shut off my brain, I need to think of something calming and pleasant and maybe more than a little boring so I can fall asleep.

Maybe I should think of Mom droning on about her second wedding, how it’s going to be better and bigger than the first one, all new and improved at a higher ticket price. Shit, and I have to go to a rehearsal dinner Friday night.

What a goddamn clusterfuck that’s going to be. Malcolm is gonna shoot his mouth and say something to piss me off, then I’m going to knock him out. Mom will never speak to me again, but that seems like a fair enough price to pay if I can knock out a couple of teeth.

I fist my sheets. This isn’t helping me get sleepy, it’s making me mad.

Okay, okay. Sera. Sera and Hunter. Sera and Hunter and Matty living happily ever after in their love-nest where everything is fucking tulips and sunshine and nobody’s worrying over the fact that there’s an expiration date on this relationship.

I pull in some air through my nose, filling up my ribcage with all the oxygen I can hold in. I exhale out slow and long, imagining every muscle is compressing the air and restless energy out of me.

Yeah, fat chance that’s going to work.

I huff out another breath, staring holes into the ceiling, wishing it was something like white puffs of clouds and I was sitting on a beach down south, letting the sun soak into my skin and bones. It’s the kind of lazy that I would pay serious money to keep for six months out of the year, or at least long enough to escape the brutal Montreal winters.

God damn it, I need to make more money. I need to work more to do that, though. No one gets a promotion because they have a fine, tight ass and look killer with some red lipstick on. I would definitely win that jackpot, but there’s no lottery to play, and my standards are high enough that sleeping with the boss doesn’t really add up in my head.

I hear some cars pull out of the underground lot below me, then rip some rubber onto the street. Idiots. They could hit someone. Just like I did, and all my luck is shot to shit because of course, of course, the guy I hit had to be my first ‘love’.

I slam my pillow over my face and refuse to breathe. Even my body is more stubborn than I am, and my pillow is launched across the room while I get some air into my lungs.

My cheeks burn when I think of Dean and I back then. We were just kids playing at being grown up. I was so needy, ugh, and clingy. I was the neediest, whiniest sixteen-year-old ever, and I have no idea what kind of magic trick I pulled to have kept Dean sticking around until I broke him into little itty bitty pieces.

Even if I don’t want to, I’m sucked into my memories like Harry Potter was when he fell into that silver-looking thingy and saw Dumledore’s memories. Now I sound just like Sera – and Dean.

Dean.

Ten years ago his looks were so different, and hidden behind a layer of little boy that made his features softer, sweeter – more of a cute guy, instead of the mega hottie he is right now. Oh, he’s still adorable, but he’s got some of that magnetic factor now that makes a girl throw off her panties and get him in an enclosed space. He didn’t induce any feeling like that way back when, but he was sweet and kind, and he made me feel special.