That Asshole that's Always in my English Class

Chapter 4: The Nerd is Sexy

I was ready. I was going to take control of the situation. The minute she walked out of the school (20 minutes after school ended) and pulled her long hair out all control flew out of the window. Now she’s running to me and I don’t think my little friend can handle it.

Fuck. The nerd is sexy.

“Hey.” She says slightly out of breath. Hot. “Stupid NHS wouldn’t let me leave.” Oh, National Honors Society. Maybe I should have accepted their invitation after all.

“It’s alright.” I hand her a helmet and she takes it but looks a little nervous. Finally, some control. “What?” I smirk. “Are you scared?”

She smirks. “No, I love motorcycles actually, I’m just hoping you can drive it well.”

“Of course I can.” I laugh.

“This is my first time riding on one without actually driving it.” She states.

My eyes widen a little bit. “You ride bikes?”

“Yup.” She pops the P. “Don’t get cocky now, I still don’t like you.”

“Well,” I turn to look at her, “Try to enjoy yourself.” I smile and she looks confused. Doesn’t like me my ass. She smirks a little before putting on the helmet and jumping on the bike. I feel her arms snake around my torso and wrap around me completely, gripping me tightly. A rush ran through me and I revved my bike. I might be trying to impress her, and I might hope it’s working. I pull out of the parking lot and by the way she’s holding me and the squeals she’s making I can tell she’s enjoying the ride. So I take the long way home, reaching the long road that eventually leads to our street after about 20 minutes and just drive. There’s no one on the road so I speed up to 70 miles per hour and I hear her yelling and laughing. I’ve never heard such a genuine laugh before. Finally I pull up in front of her house. She jumps off and pulls the helmet off, her dark hair that was originally in tight curls now falls close to her face in loose curls, making her look fresh and happy. I get off and look at her holding my helmet in my hands. “Anyone home?” I ask. She giggles a little before shaking her head.

“I guess I owe you at least a drink.” She smirks and motions to follow her as she walks over to the front door and walks in. The house is very simple and square on the outside. All white with a black wrap around porch with 3 black rocking chairs and a small table. There are white and pink lily flowers spread around the front of the house. It looks beautiful. The inside was anything but simple. She gave me a small tour around the downstairs. Every room had a different theme. The kitchen is retro 40s, family room is hippie 60s, dining room is classic 20s, living room is Victorian 19th century, bathroom is modern, and an arts room dedicated to 80s/90s classic rock with paintings and posters covering every wall. She said it was her dad’s idea but her mom executed it. I couldn’t wait to see the upstairs. She said it was the complete opposite of downstairs; there was no theme, if you wanted to put something somewhere you just did and made it work. It was honestly amazing, I wish I lived in a house like this. To think I’ve lived across the street from this house this entire time.

She looks at me as we stand in the kitchen. “So, water, tea, coffee, or what?”

“Uh, coffee, regular.” I smile. 2 minutes later we’re on our way upstairs, coffees in hand. We walk into her room, it looks shared. I’m assuming she has a sibling. Each side has a queen sized bed with a closet and a desk. One side is splashed with color everywhere, the other is black and white with splashes of color and tons of posters of bands, movies, books, etc. It seems like she’s the black and white side.

“Now,” she starts as she sits on her bed and I take a seat on the black desk chair. “What do you want to know?

I think, “Favorite movie?”