Never Been Nerdy(62)

We leave the viewpoint without anything else said between us. Another agonizing ten minutes pass by in silence until I realize I forgot to say the most important thing.

“Dean,” I say, calling him back because his giant steps propel him at a much faster speed than the rest of us. When he turns his big body around to fully look at me, Kal and Pongo whip around to look at me, too. “I...I want you to really believe me this time, okay?”

“What are you going on about?”

I walk forward, Potter prancing between us, going to see his brothers with enough enthusiasm that it’s like he’s missed them for three days.

“Please believe me, alright? I’m really incredibly sorry for what I did to you. For how they treated you, for how I set up the whole thing in the caf, with them pantsing you and stealing your clothes. I’m sorry.”

My throat’s all tight, and I don’t think I’ve been this emotional ever in my entire life.

Everything’s changing, and I’m losing every ounce of protection I’ve surrounded myself with.

“Apology not accepted,” he says with the total authority of a judge delivering a life sentence.

Well, what did you think would happen? Getting forgiveness is never that easy.





Chapter 18





“Okay...” I say, trying to fill the awkward silence. It’s not really awkward just strained to the max.

Dean moves his shoulders, pops his neck from side to side. He used to do that a lot when he was pissed off or annoyed. Still does, looks like.

“I was over it, you know? Everyone saw me in my tightie whities before they were cool, and quite a few girls made comments on the size of my package, plus my lack of upper body strength,” Dean mumbles.

I have an insane urge to run at him and force him to hug me, but that’s crazy talk. Maybe now, after this, I can move on, I can repair burned bridges. I can just deal with what my life’s become.

“Do you even know what that does to teen dude’s confidence? Jesus, Kat, the only thing a teen dude is good for is dick size and mine was put into question. Gave me a fucking complex. I couldn’t be with a girl for a year after that! All because you were feeling shitty. Goddamn it, I was really trying. Really fucking trying to be the better person, to shut my piehole and deal with you because you’re the one that noodled my head.”

“I know...” I say softly.

Dean turns around and starts walking away from me. Potter tries to run after, and so I don’t strangle him, I run to keep up. Damn, that big bastard can walk far and fast when he wants to.

Dean’s totally mumbling to himself, and I hear a lot of swearing and insults headed both my way and his. “Fucking idiot, what were you thinking letting her drive you to the hospital? Stupid fucking ego, trying to get her to remember you, all big and shit, acting like Thor so she’d see what she missed! Ha! You stupid idiot...”

“Dean, please...”

“Please, WHAT!” I hate that he’s so mad, but there’s no reason to run away from him now. I’m the one that put myself out there, and he has every right to tear me down.

“What is it going to take to get rid of you?” he asks. “You wanna fuck? Hurry up, we’re going to go back to my place.”

Vagina: activated and ready. Locked and loaded. Port open.

I snort at the running thoughts in my head. Dean’s eyes get huge and he pops his mouth open, showing off his teeth. He reminds me of a maddened wolf.

“I wasn’t laughing at you! I swear!” I say, palms out in I-come-in-peace. Now, I can’t stop laughing, practically cackling, until tears stream down my face and I’m sure I’ve got a six-pack after that.

“What is so fucking funny, Kat?” Dean almost roars, but his body doesn’t say threat, it says cowering animal in a corner.

That’s when I stop laughing, because I can’t imagine what it felt like having everyone at school laugh at him, almost-naked in the caf, all because of me. I never saw the end result of all my devious planning; I guess I was trying to save face, or maybe I thought if I didn’t see it, if I wasn’t there, it would be like I didn’t actually do anything.

Yeah, right.

I move forward, boots crunching against the gravel. “I’m sorry. I’ll say it however many times you want me to, I promise,” I tell him, keeping the only smallest amount of inches between us. I want nothing more than to hold him as close as possible, without all our coats and clothes and canine buddies.

He won’t let me do that, though, that’s a place to be earned.

I hesitantly move even closer, wrap my arms around his waist. He’s still like an iceberg, unmoving and unyielding. It’s when he speaks that I die and get sent straight to Hell.