The Nerd and The Jock - LT Fanfic

10: Bae Material

10: Bae Material

Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. I excused myself from the couch. The family game show faded in my ears as I walked away, followed by Mom's howls of approval. Moments before, she talked my ears off about how good-looking Steve Harvey was. Gross, right? I guess I could see Steve being cute in an old man type of way. If she liked rich old men with big white teeth, who was I to judge?

....But it was still gross. I answered the phone.

"Bonjour," Blaze said.

"Hey," I said, impressed. I didn't know that his accent could be so good! Cue the heart-eye emojis.

He mused, "I didn't really understand what you meant in English. It doesn't make sense. How did you do it?"

"What?"

"You said writing is bull-crapping... How do you bull crap?"

He wasted no time getting to the point. I hesitated a little, half-intrigued by his straightforwardness and half-excited at the thought of sharing my knowhow. I thought about my next words carefully.

"Well," I paused at the stairs, "how do you bull crap anything?"

It was quiet on the other line. So I said, "You kind of just... wing it. You might not understand the entire prompt, but maybe you know what one part of it means. So you capitalize on that part and expand on it."

As I climbed up the stairs, he sucked in a breath. "You make it sound so easy."

"That's because it is."

"For you it is," he insisted and I smiled. "No," I told him, but he interrupted me.

"Seriously. You do a good job of explaining things. You're like... an English guru, Temara."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

The thought being more than just a nerd was flattering. I mean, don't get me wrong. Being a nerd wasn't a bad thing. But I was happy that Blaze was creative enough to call me something other than, well... that. Plus, that was just a slick move. There was no better way to get to my heart than complimenting my English skills.

Blaze was seriously turning out to be bae.

"Well, whether or not you agree with me, I'm gonna need your help, English guru," he said. "Wanna give me a hand?"

* * *

Blaze and I walked into class the next morning with our heads high and our shoulders squared. We were ready, prepared for the day's obstacles.

The night before, Blaze and I worked on the essay. We talked and talked. Soon we found our conversation becoming less academic. It started off about school, and then veered somehow, to cooler things. From books to favorite movies, from best friends to pet names, we found ourselves entangled in regular talk. Which I seriously enjoyed.

"Okay, okay, I got one," I said. My bedroom door had been closed and my feet had been up. Blaze and I recovered from goofy fits of laughter. Actual tears had beaded up at the corners of my eyes, and I wiped at them.

He chuckled at me. "Okay, shoot," he said.

"What did... Blaze. "

"Sorry," he snickered, "I was just remembering the last one."

I sighed, "You want to hear this one or not?" 

"Go ahead!"

"Thank you." I smirked then, knowing that I had a good one. "What did the blanket say to the bed as it fell?"