16 Reasons You Should Never Date A Geek Girl

Reason #7: She Will Be Smarter Than You

Abby waltzed into the library, carrying a huge book. I sat down in the seat across from her usual seat, and she dropped the book on the table with a loud THUD. On the spine: SAT Prep 101 in big black daunting letters. "Let's start with page 1, shall we?" she asked, flipping open the book.

"We aren't honestly going to read that whole thing are we?" I moaned.

"I already have," she said. I groaned, and the librarian gave me a look. I gave her a small wave.

"I was actually wondering," I said, pulling out my notebook, "If you could help me with some homework."

"I won't do it for you," Abby said, adjusting her glasses, not looking up at me from the pages of the humongous book.

"I'm not asking you to," I said, "Please. I have to get my grades up." Abby looked up at me, her eyes judging mine. Finally she sighed and flopped the book's cover shut.

"Let's see it," she said, "What's the subject?"

"Geometry," I said. She looked down at the page, where my messy scrawl had mapped a problem.

"So you're trying to find the circumference?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"How do you find circumference?" she asked.

"That's kind of what I'm asking," I said, giving her a smirk.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, "Okay, so, do you know where the pi button is on your calculator?"

"Shut up, as if you've never had a hard time in a class," I challenged.

"I haven't," she said with a playful smirk. I rolled my eyes, which made her giggle. "Anyway," she continued, "You take two times pi, and then multiply that by the radius." She wrote the equation at the top of my paper in a loopy, yet still sloppy scrawl.

"Okay," I said, "But I need to find the radius."

"Take the diameter divided by 2," she said. I felt stupid. "Give it a shot," she said. I pulled out my phone, typing in the numbers. Then I wrote down the answer. She checked it on a bulky graphing calculator, and she smiled.

"See, not hard," she said.

We went through the homework, and I found Abby was patient. She wouldn't budge on just telling me the answer, which often took me twice as long as it took her.

"I'm not doing your homework for you," she said, "I'm not that kind of girl."

"What kind are you then?" I challenged. She stayed silent.

"The kind whose about to tell you to do your freaking homework," she said after a long pause.

"Come on," I said, "Why are you so adamant on this?"

"I'm so adamant because its your homework, not mine," she said. I sighed. Doing a problem. She checked it. "You miss calculated the width," she said.

"How do I do that?" I asked. She showed me patiently, tapping the butt of her pen against my page the show me where I went wrong.

"So it's actually," I typed in the new numbers, "6.35 meters."

"Bingo," she said, turning to her own homework. I watched for a moment. She whizzed through the work. "Have I ever told you," she said, her eyes meeting mine, "I hate math." She giggled.

"No," I chuckled, "No you have not." She smiled.

"You almost done with that?" she asked, pointing to mine.

"Nope," I said, "I've still got the big twenty questions stint."

"Enjoy that," she said, jokingly sarcastic. I chuckled.

"I won't," I admitted. She turned back to her homework, flipping the page in her notebook. Her hand rested on the table, only a couple of millimeters from mine. Her hand moved to pick at her deep green nail polish, touching mine. The unexpected contact made me flinch, and she quickly moved her hand up to her lip, biting at the nail polish now.

"Sorry," she muttered. She blushed wildly. I decided not to say anything. "You got that?" she asked, gesturing to my homework.

"Sort of," I said, "I'll figure it out." She smiled, gathering up her stuff in her bag. The bell rang a moment later.