The Nerd [BXB]

11 𖠇 The Nerd and The Bad Boy

Oscar throws himself backward, resting his back on the squeaky bed and slapping his hands over his eyes. "Finally," he murmurs, sighing heavily. "I actually thought that we were going to spend the whole night working on this essay."

I shake my head, rubbing my eyes. "I am glad it didn't."

He picks himself back up, crossing his legs as he looks at me. "Would you like for me to walk you home?" he asks, eyes dreary from the lack of sleep. "I do not have a vehicle, but I can certainly walk you to your house."

I feel a warmth inside me, forcing me to smile. "That's nice of you," I admit. "But I was going to meet up with Harvey—if he is awake by this hour."

I take a sip from the water he brought me a few minutes ago and proceed to pack my things up. Once everything is inside my bag, I raise from the bed, stretching my legs after sitting down for more than two hours. That's when I take my phone out of my front pocket and dial Harvey's number.

The phone rings and rings and rings until a recorder tells me to leave a message. "Oh," I simply blurt out.

"Not picking up?" Oscar asks.

I turn to face him. "He probably didn't hear it," I try to come up with an explanation. "Let me give him one last call."

I dial his number one more time, hoping that he answers the call this time. Sadly, after several rings, the recorder greets me again.

"Try your mom," Oscar says.

"I told her Harvey was going to pick me up," I explain to him. "She is probably asleep by now."

Oscar offers me a crooked smile. "My offer still stands, you know?"

I push my glasses up my nose, nodding him off. "No need to, Oscar," I say, heading to the door. "I can walk home all by myself."

He remains quiet for a moment, eyes glued on me. Then, out of nowhere, he jumps off the bed, heads for the closet, and takes out a black jacket that he puts on. "I'm walking you home," he says, ruffling his messy, dark hair.

"It's okay—"

"It's not an offer this time," he adds, walking up to me until his chest almost touches mine. "You are not walking alone tonight."

I look up and pucker my lips, not wanting him to lose any more sleep when he has to work most days and keep up with school. "You are aware that you are walking alone once I am home?"

"I do," he responds, opening the door. "However, I am used to it and you are not." Before we step out, he adds, "Let's be quiet so we don't wake up my mom or Al."

I mime zipping my mouth shut and throwing the key away, giving him a thumbs-up afterward. Knowing that I won't be by myself in the plain darkness as I roam the streets brings me some kind of comfort.

He slowly closes the door behind us before him and I take delicate steps over the floor until we reach the front door. With his keys on hand, the two get out of the house where the chilly wind decides to welcome us. The only sound in Sunset City is the chirping crickets and the whistling wind.

   I yawn, feeling my eyelids heavy. I am not used to staying up this late so my body is begging me to lay down and drift to sleep. The few times I stay up late is when I am determined to finish a book or too enthralled on reading one to stop. However, that usually happens when I have nothing else to do the next day. Thankfully, tomorrow all I can do is sleep to replace the hours when I should've been in bed.

   "Too much silence," Oscar snaps, interrupting my thoughts. "I will start a conversation with the crickets if you don't bring something up."

   Although the wind is cold, I still feel my cheeks heating as I glance down at the gravel with each step. "I should've given you a heads up: I am terrible at bringing up conversations with individuals I just met," I admit, pulling my sleeves over my hands. "Being awkward and quiet is kind of my thing." I look at him before mentioning, "Besides, it compliments my nerd attire."

   He is looking up at the sky where a few twinkling lights and a crescent moon enlighten the path in front of us. "I don't think you are awkward or quiet," he says, bringing his eyes down to face me. "You just keep a lot to yourself even when the whole world begs to hear from you."

   I chew the inside of my cheek. "Maybe."

   "Come on," he says, nudging my shoulder. "Throw me a question—it can be about anything."

   I squint my eyes, deep in thought. "Where have you been if not at school all this year?"

   He chuckles. "I was in D.A.E.P."

   I raise both eyebrows. "Why?"

   "I called out a teacher for being unnecessarily rude to a student," he confesses, sighing afterward. "He was being a total bitch to Isabella."

   "You spent half of the school year isolated from the rest of the students just because you called out a teacher?" I ask, not convinced that that was the end of the story.

   He puckers his bottom lip. "I might've thrown my history book at his face," he adds, the wind blowing his hair over his forehead. "A month later I could've punched Winston Keller for gripping his girlfriend from the wrist too hard after an argument."

   "Wow," is all I can say, laughing seconds after.

   He raises an eyebrow and grins. "What?"

   "You really are a bad boy, aren't you?" I say, placing a hand over my mouth as I continue to laugh. "The stereotypical bad boy."

   He laughs alongside me. "You cannot be talking about stereotypes when you are the living definition of a nerd."

   "Fair enough," I say, continuing to laugh. That is when I realize that I haven't laughed for quite some time. A genuine laugh that makes the side of your waist hurt. The last time was with my mother. . . or could it have been with Mrs. Mills? Honestly, I cannot recall which proves my point of how absent I have been from the laughter this world offers me.

   "Joke aside," I say once the laughing is over. "What you did for Alice Parker was kind. Winston Keller is evil incarnate that has an undeserving, over-the-top ego."

   "Oh, please," Oscar says, rolling his eyes. "There is a much simpler word to describe him."

   I tilt my head to the side as we continue walking.

   "One word that fits him perfectly," he says, giving me hints.

   I grin and take a deep breath. "Winston Keller is a dick."

   "There we go!" Oscar cheers me by patting my back.

   I take a quick stop, almost walking past my house from being too distracted. "It's here," I let him know. "I'm home."

   He faces the two-stories house, admiring the green front lawn decorated with two orange trees that have bird feeders hanging from the branches full of seeds and a cobblestone pathway leading to the entrance. On front of the grass rests a statue of an angel sitting over a fountain and a bird-house crafted beautifully with wood. Around all this is a white fence that has been repainted recently, far from having a mark or scratch.

   "Thanks for walking me home," I say, smiling at him.

   He smiles back. "You're more than welcome."

   I stand there as if frozen in place.

   "Well," Oscar says, "have a good night, Theo." He turns around and begins to walk back from where we came from.

   "Oscar!" I call for him before he is too far.

   He stops, looking at me over his shoulder.

   "It was nice spending time with you," I confess, for the first time letting out whatever I feel inside.

   "I'm glad to hear that," he says.

   With that being said, I enter my house and give my mother a peck on the cheek before heading to bed as Oscar walks by himself back home where his mother and daughter await in sleep.