Selling My Soul to His Royal Nerdiness.

Selling My Soul to His Royal Nerdiness. (4)

Annabel Taylor

Harrison left the next day.

My mom let him borrow one of her cars, a sturdy F-150 (after having him sign a contract that stated that if he got so much as one bullet hole in it, he'd get a brand new paint job for it).

Noah was set up in a guest room. Harrison didn't want anyone to track his credit card, so he promised to pay us back and gave him a bit of money for shopping. They had lost their luggage in a firey crash.

West and Chance went out to tend to the horses, Kolbie went to go and text her friends. My mom went to go and make sure that Chance and West didn't kill each other.

Which left me and Noah in the living room.

I studied him. This was going to be a heck of a job.

"Stand up." I ordered. He stood quickly, watching me as one might watch a ravenous dingo. I hid a smile. He was still holding onto that same book with a death grip, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

I circled him slowly, looking him up and down. I could see him just fine from where I was sitting; I just wanted to creep him out a bit.

His skin tone was a little dark, along with his eyes and hair. Paler than a Spanish person's but still dark. Like I've said before, his lashes were to-die for. Nice facial strcture, a little too-big ears, extremely tall, taller than West. If I were forced to compare him with a Disney prince, it'd have to be Aladdin.

Then again, I am still extemely peeved at Disney right now.

"Take off your glasses."

He took them off. I put my hands on my hips, studying him. "Better."

His eyes were bright, but he looked completely panicked without the glasses. He had a few freckles across his nose, I noticed.

Chance had let him borrow some of his clothes--a black Star Wars shirt with Yoda on the front and some dark jeans. He looked a lot better in those. Even Kolbie had noticed--cue the fluttering of the eyelashes. Ugh. He was still wearing loafers, though.

"You can put them back on." I nodded. He put them back on and smiled. "Well? What's the verdict?"

"The hair, the glasses, the outfit, and the shoes have to go. Oh, and the book."

He clutched it tighter to his chest. "What?"

"You asked what the verdict was," I shrugged.

"But--but--the hair and the glasses." He touched them, as if I were going to rip them off of his face and crack them over my knee at any moment. "They're me."

"Exactly. I'm supposed to be helping you not be you."

We had a stare down. He crumbled into little tiny pieces. "Fine," he spat out. "But the book stays."

"You can't carry it around with you every where you go." I pointed out.

He looked indignant. "I won't."

"Then why do you still have it?"

He huffed and turned on his heel to put the book into his room.

I folded my arms. I definetely had my work cut out for me.

When he returned, I had my cellphone in my pocket, my keys in my hand, and I was standing by the door. "Come on." I waved a hand in his direction. He hung back, unsure for moment. I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the Corvette (Mom and Chance had gotten it from the side of the road).