Nerds Are Lovable

1: Nerds Are Buff

The day I have no eyes on me is the day I finally make it to Hell. It's almost natural to have eyes glare, stare, and everything in between at me. There's always some comment or whisper, judgement or compliment, coming my way, well, more like in my vicinity. No one really talks to me directly, just about me. Just like no one actually knows me, just knows about me.

Except Emma.

"Her ass, though," I hear, "Nah bro, those tits."

I side glare at the boys whispering about my features, shall I say. They immediately shut up and walk off in the opposite direction as me. Just as always, they cowardly walk away. Teenaged boys are the stupidest species.

I'm still watching the boys running off like babies, when I run, boobs first, into someone. Our impact makes me stumble backwards a little, making me drop my phone I was barely holding onto. I bend down, feeling the extra eyes on me, and pick it up. Looking at it, the screen is shattered. A little late, but I should really buy a fucking case.

Crashing into someone only caused more people's eyes to land on me. And bending down to pick up my now shattered phone, well that only made the situation worse.

Why is the high school population so sexually frustrated? Eat some pussy every once in a while, geez.

I shake away my shock of running into someone only to be pierced with scared green eyes. They were big, round, and hidden behind a pair of glasses. Looking at the rest of his face and then scanning down his body I decide it's a nerd. His vintage oversized Star Wars shirt, which I secretly loved, was obscured slightly by the number of books he was carrying. His large figure seemed unbothered by our collision, but his expression looked like he might shit his pants at any moment.

"Sorry," He mumbles.

"You broke my phone," I state.

"I'm, I'll, sorry," He stutters.

I raise an eyebrow at him, surprised he's getting words out through his quivering voice but mainly humored by his lack of composure. He may puke, he may run, he may pee, the future is full of possibilities. All great options.

"You're gonna buy me a new one," I try to ask but it comes off more as a statement, a threat.

I feel a little bad about how I come off, but that's just who I am. The boy in front of me looks like he's literally shaking before me as he stays silent. I'm almost moved by the expression on his face, but that wouldn't be me. I unfocus from his face, looking at his glasses instead. They frame his face nicely although I'm surprised that someone would ever choose to wear glasses over contacts.

I would die if I had to.

I wait for him to speak up, say something. The number of people looking at us is definitely not helping him use his outside voice, or any voice at all. He looks like he's going to breathe, something he hasn't done in a minute, when the bell rings. He scurries off, not even looking back. I let my eyes follow him as he ducks into the AP Calculus classroom. The rest of the students groan as they shuffle off to their respective classes. There's rumors already spreading about my little interaction with nerd boy, but I can't be bothered.

Haley Jones doesn't give a shit.

"I heard that Jayden Monroe begged for forgiveness."

Jayden Monroe, huh? What an interesting character. If only he had more confidence, he'd look so much hotter. Oh, and if he lost the glasses, twenty first century teens wear contacts. Jayden Monroe, who are you?

God, please ignore my blatant intrigue.

I smirk at the rumors I hear as I slip into my Algebra class. Guess I came out the hero, err, the superior being? Depends on the rumor you hear or the angle you had.

"Welcome back, all these days off are throwing me off," My Algebra teacher, who is a true believer about learning one thing a day, begins the class.

I roll my eyes, slumping over my desk in the back of the class. I hate this class with a burning passion. My dad may be an engineer but I definitely did not get the STEM gene. As my dad likes to put it, I'm 'left brained'. That's his nice way of saying I'm good at art, not school subjects.

"Haley, homework?" The teacher asks, standing in front of my desk trying to look superior.

"Here," I give her a mostly blank piece of paper.

Hey, I tried.

Yeah, that's a lie. You shouldn't trust strangers.

Math just doesn't come naturally to me. The numbers mixed together with the letters shouldn't be legal. Plus, do calculators disappear once I reach adulthood? No? I didn't think so. So why can't I use it? Bogus.

No one even bothers to hide that they're watching our interaction. They're more invested in this little two second conversation than politics, social injustice, or maybe even some breaking news. High schoolers do love their drama. I look out to the twenty other students in this class and give them a hateful look. They need to learn how to mind their business. My stares don't seem to teach them that lesson though.

Once the class ends, and the one after that, and the one after that, it's finally lunch time. The rumors of this mornings little debacle with nerd boy, I mean, Jayden Monroe, were still a trending subject of Greenville High. Apparently, now the rumors were that I'd turned into the devil and threatened he'd go to Hell. Sounds a little satanic for my taste.

"Emma, why do we go to school with idiots?"

"Because there's some hot idiots that make it all worth it?" She offers.

I smile at her joke and sit beside her on the brick wall that holds a garden. The wall is only three feet tall and inside of it lies almost dead trees and definitely dead flowers. Public school loves to try and makes this place look like less of a prison than it actually is.

"Heard you had a little situation with Jayden Monroe," Emma raises an eyebrow, obviously intrigued by what she missed this morning.

I shrug my shoulders, not really caring about this morning's events anymore. But then I remember my broken phone that is no longer useable. My dad is going to have a heart attack if he calls and I don't answer. I let a grimace settle on my face before picking at my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some anger.

"He broke my phone."

"And what did you do?"

"I asked him if he would buy me a new one," I squirm under Emma's pointed stare.

She knew me so well, all the ins and outs of how my brains works. It's like she can read into my soul, creeps me out. Emma always had a way of figuring me out, that's why she's my best, uh, only friend. She just gets me, but I guess that's how all friends work.

"You should try not to scare the poor boy off next time."

"Maybe," I think it over, "I'll probably just hunt him and kill him."

Emma laughs at my comment, knowing I was joking about the second half, "He tutors after school," She offers.

So Jayden Monroe tutors. And we learn more and more about him every hour. Maybe my Algebra teacher isn't so crazy, I am learning something new. I can't help but be curious about him. His looks don't align with the emotion his face carries.

I need to stop using his full name like a weirdo.

"Tutors what?"

"Math."

Of course he fucking does.