#Nerd (The Hashtag Series Book 1)(2)

By: Cambria Hebert



“We?” I asked.

“Myself and the coach.”

Ahhh.

So basically, Mr. Perfect was failing, and the school was freaking out because it was football season and they needed their best player and crowd drawer on the field. And who better to stick with the job? The scholarship girl with the perfect average. The girl with no life.

And so here I was sitting at a table in the university library, waiting on Mr. Perfect. I glanced at the watch fastened around my wrist. Then I checked the time against the large clock hanging on the wall. The times matched up.

Romeo was late.

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo…

I snorted. It was so loud it startled a girl at a nearby table. She jerked back in her seat, causing her chair to teeter dangerously backward and hover over the ground. I watched as she grappled for the table ledge, her hands grasping instead to the thick book open before her.

The book wasn’t a good anchor.

She yanked it right off the table as her chair barreled toward the ground. The chair, the girl, and the book made quite the clatter when they hit the ground. Everyone in the general area turned to stare.

You know you’re a clumsy person when you cause other people to fall down.

I started to get up, to help her, but the daggers she shot out of her eyes froze me in my tracks. I sat back down. Her face was flaming red as she huffed to her feet and packed up her stuff. Before storming off, she picked up the large book, and I had a sudden vision of her swinging it at my head.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around it and glared at me again.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

If her stomps to the other side of the library were any indication, I was pretty sure I wasn’t forgiven.

Well, that was eventful.

And a waste of time. I glanced at my watch again and wondered if I would get out of tutoring if he didn’t bother showing up.

Since I was already here, I figured I could at least do some of my work, so I bent down to retrieve my notebook out of my bag. When I sat up, I saw him.

He was standing just inside the glass doors that led outside. His shaggy blond hair was darker than usual because it looked damp. The ends of his hair curled up at the base of his neck, above the collar of his jacket. A navy-blue backpack was slung over one of his shoulders and his insanely large hand was curled around the strap, holding it in place.

Romeo was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist. He wasn’t a bulky guy; he played too many sports for that. But even so, it was obvious his body was all muscle.

He was looking around, his blue eyes sweeping the room, likely looking for his tutor. I felt my cheeks heat when he glanced my way, and I ducked my head. But then I realized this wasn’t the time to be shy. I needed to tell him I was his tutor.

Holy hell, I was going to get to talk to him! Embarrassment burned the back of my throat. Talking to guys wasn’t something I did very often.

I looked back up to wave at him, but Romeo had already looked away. I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t very noticeable. I wasn’t the kind of girl that drew eyes and held a stare.

I watched him another minute as he looked over his shoulder at the tables on the other side of the room. The girl who fell out of her chair was watching him, her eyes eating up his face.

Could she be any more obvious?

Romeo caught her looking and his mouth pulled into a slow smile. I bit the inside of my lip as little butterflies fluttered around my stomach. He wasn’t even looking at me with that charming half smile and I was affected.

Ugh.

I didn’t have time for this.

I snatched the paper with his name and information off the table and marched toward him. Halfway there, I collided with the corner of an empty table and the unforgiving edge jammed into my hipbone. In the center of the table was a cup filled with pens and pencils and the force of impact knocked it over.

Writing utensils rolled across the wooden surface and some rained down onto the floor.

Sharp pain burned through my hip and I drew back, fighting the urge to double over as I rubbed the sore spot.

That was going to leave a bruise.

Doing my best to ignore the pain, I walked around the table to where the pencils were scattered on the floor. Bending down, I began scooping them up with my hand.

One pencil had rolled farther away than the others, and I had to stretch my arm all the way out to reach for it. Just as I was about to snatch it up, two overly large feet wearing a pair of Nikes appeared right beside it.

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