Boy Meets Nerd (7 page)

Her coat had been traded in for a thin hoodie. Though she wasn’t the outdoorsy type, it felt good to have her face in the sun.

The door opened and her

grandma waved them in. Upon spotting Jess, she smiled and pulled her in for a hug. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing your friend, Em.” She scowled at Emerson. “I’d have made more stew.”

“I didn’t come for stew, Bea,” Jess said. “I came for your company.”

“That’s sweet, dear. A lie but sweet.”

Jess laughed. “You caught me. But I won’t eat much. I promise. How are the crosswords going?”

They trailed behind Bea as she navigated to the kitchen.

“Beatrice True, one hundred and seventeen. The Boston Post, zero.” Emerson chuckled.

“Wow. You need to find a way to make money off that talent, Bea.” Jess sat at the kitchen table and Em took the seat next to her.

Her grandma shuffled to the

oven. “It’ll be just a minute.”

“Do you need help, Gram?”

“No, no. You girls just sit there and fill me in on life. The stew’s cooked already. Just waiting for the biscuits.”

Emerson

shot

Jess

a

warning look and shook her head slightly.

She

merely

smiled

innocently in return. “Same old here, Bea. One of my photos sold at the gallery!”

“Lovely! Which one?” Jess opened her mouth to answer but Bea cut her off. “Let me guess. One of the erotic ones?”

Jess shrugged. “What can I say? Sex sells.”

Em’s grandma clicked her

tongue and shook her head.

“Don’t get all morally

righteous on me now, Bea.”

“Oh it’s not that. I just wish you girls would pick a more stable career. Selling a photo once a month is not something you can build a life on.”

“That’s why I work at the gallery. Don’t worry about me. I’m doing fine. Even covering your granddaughter’s half of the rent sometimes.” She nudged Emerson.

Her grandma gave her a

stern look. “Emerson True,” she scolded. “Now I told you to tell me if you needed money. Instead you have your poor friend paying your bills?”

Em tossed her roommate an irritated glare. “Thanks for getting me in trouble.”

Jess bit her lip like she was holding back a smile. “Sorry.” She didn’t look sorry.

“I’ll pay her back. And I’m really close to a new prime number.

I can practically feel it.”

“You have feelings?” Jess said, eyes twinkling.

It

was

a

common

misconception. Her hyperfocus on work

and

introverted

nature

sometimes made her seem a little…

robotic. But it wasn’t true. Jess knew that. “Nope,” she answered.

“Aren’t you worried about rooming with a sociopath?” She mustered up a creepy look but Jess only laughed.

“Weirdo.”

“You two fight like sisters,” her grandma said, walking in with a steaming crock pot. She placed it on the table then stuck a giant spoon in it. “Speaking of which, how’s Paige?”

Jess dug in first. Despite promising not to eat much, she dumped a heaping spoonful of the meat and potatoes onto her plate.

“I

don’t

know,”

Em

answered. “She never calls. She turned out more like my mom.

Lucky for me because it got her off my back quicker.” Chuckling, she dished out a portion of stew onto her plate. “I should check in I guess.

I just get the feeling Paige doesn’t really care. In high school she barely acknowledged she knew me, let alone that I was her sister.”

“That’s

rude!”

Jess

protested around a mouthful of food.

She shrugged. “I don’t

blame her. She had the chance to be popular. Why ruin it cause of me?”

“Family is all you have in this world. The people who are supposed to be loyal and stick by you no matter what. If not for love, at least for obligation. Nobody deserves to be alone.” She stuck her fork into another bite a food.

“Especially when it comes to siblings. Who’s gonna plan your parents funeral with you? And split up their assets and stuff?”

Emerson grimaced. “That’s

morbid, Jess.”

“But it’s true. Siblings

should stick together. I wish I had one.”

For a time, right around middle

school,

Emerson

had

wished she’d been an only child.

Her mother was at the very end of her

patience

regarding

Em’s

willingness to follow her interests.

Paige had been brainwashed by then. Or maybe she truly liked the prissy pageant stuff. Either way, her mother constantly compared the two and tried using Paige to get Emerson in line.
Look at your
sister. Why can’t you be more like
her?

Some kids may have felt

ashamed or resentful, but even at a young age, Emerson knew who she was, and who she wasn’t.

“Does your sister have the same gift as you?” Jess asked. “Is she really smart too?”

“In a way. She’s smart but not as obsessed as I am. She’s good at science like my dad. Maybe she’ll take over his podiatry business and make both parents proud. Then I’ll be off the hook.” Her grandma frowned at

her. “They’re proud of you. They just don’t show it very well.”

“I think the biggest thing I could do right now to please my mother is get knocked up. Giving her grandchildren would be my greatest accomplishment.”

“Do you want kids?” Jess asked.

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought. Maybe if I found a new prime number –”

Jess and Bea both laughed.

“What?”

Jess shook her head. “It always comes back to numbers with you.”

“I’ll never be happy until I meet my goal. But maybe after then, if I found the right person, I would entertain the idea of kids. I mean, it would be kinda fun to pass along my love of math.”

“Yeah,” Jess agreed. “And that brain of yours.”

That was a good point, but she knew enough not to say it. She was learning to keep those thoughts to herself.

“First

she

needs

a

boyfriend,” her grandma said.

“Maybe you should try one of those online dating sites. Mate finder dot com or something.”

Was it an obligation for every grandma to be a nosy matchmaker? Emerson sighed and thought through ways to get out of this conversation.

Jess and Bea discussed

what her profile should look like and the types of guys she should try to attract. It would be just like them to set up an account for her. Soon she’d be getting emails with the subject line
Math makes me hot,
baby
and
I’d love to hack my way
into your pants.

In a fit of desperation, she blurted, “Jonah wants to meet for coffee.”

They stopped talking and

looked at her.

Jess grimaced. “The jerk

who ditched you for NASA?”

“The job didn’t work out,” she

answered,

ignoring

her

gr a nd ma ’s
tsk
of disapproval.

“He’s back and says he misses me.”

“I say don’t do it.” Jess put up a finger to ward off a disagreement. “
Unless
, you’re only using him to get back on your feet in the dating world. He could be like your practice dummy.”

“That’s cruel,” she replied.

“And weird.” Only Jess would think of something so ridiculous as a practice dummy for dating. Did a girl even need practice? Could one get rusty at going out for coffee and making small talk? Inwardly, she laughed. As if she’d ever be good at small talk. If that was what it took to find a husband, she was screwed.

Bea and Jess were plotting again. “I tried to convince her to come to the dark side but she insists she’s straight,” Jess explained.

“You don’t think she is?” her grandma asked.

Jess’s eyes glimmered. “It’s a sliding scale. Everyone has the potential to be bi. Some are just more open to the possibility than others.” She winked at Em.

Bea laughed out loud. “You

should bring her around more often,” she told Em, pointing to Jess with her fork. “I like her.” Emerson shook her head

emphatically. “No online dating sites. And no setting me up either!

You two are a menace to a girl’s work life.”

Prime

numbers.

No

boyfriends. Or girlfriends either. It was probably creepy to say numbers were the love of her life, even if it was true. Another sentiment to keep only in her mind.

She was collecting a lot of those.

The comforting scent of her favorite coffee swept over her as she walked into Starbucks. Emerson did a brief scan of the shop, looking for Jonah’s lanky frame. She spotted him in the far corner, sitting with his back to her.

She skipped the line and went straight to Jonah’s table. He was staring down at his phone, like every other person under the age of fifty. Brown hair fell across his forehead. Pale skin said he hadn’t seen the light of day much either.

He looked exactly the same as he did five months ago. She even recognized the green flannel shirt.

“Hey,” she said, placing her bag on the table. She didn’t believe in purses. They were too prissy for her purposes. She carried a messenger bag instead, that almost always contained her netbook.

Jonah looked up at her and smiled. To her surprise, he got up from his seat and hugged her.

Stiffly, she accepted the hug, leaving her arms at her sides. It felt awkward. He’d never been one for PDA or random acts of affection. In fact, a relationship with Jonah felt a little like an arranged marriage. It served a purpose, but there was no passion. Not that Em knew anything about passion. At least not when it came to things other than numbers.

When he released her, he smiled again. Two smiles in a row.

Impressive. When they’d been together, smiles had come few and far between. Always precise, always reserved, he wasn’t a carefree smiler. Not like Levi.

His wide grin popped in her

mind, surprising her. What was he doing there?

“Sit down,” Jonah said,

motioning to the spot across from him. There was a cup already sitting there. “I got your coffee already. Try it. Let’s see if I remembered right.”

Brows raised, she sat then sniffed the contents of the cup.

Jonah had never been the romantic type. She’d be surprised if he remembered her order, especially after all these months of not seeming to remember her at all.

She

took

a

sip.
Ugh!

Grimacing, she forced herself to swallow then put the cup back on the table.

Jonah looked dismayed.

“No?”

“Not even close.” She

needed real coffee, STAT, to wash the taste out.

“Soy latte skim milk and no

sugar, right?”

“Ew.”

What

the

hell?

“NASA must’ve scrambled your brain. I’m gonna go get some
real
coffee. I’ll be right back.” Soy?

Not

much

had

changed, apparently. He’d often forget her favorite things – movies, restaurants, desserts. At the counter, she ordered a small vanilla blonde then loaded it up with cream and sugar. She was still shaking her head about the soy latte as she made her way back to the table.

“Sorry about that,” Jonah said, not looking sorry at all. He’d always been cocky. Sometimes a man’s cockiness was attractive. In Jonah though, it was more grating.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me here.”

She shrugged. “I’m here all the time anyway.”

Jonah snorted then shook his head. “You never were good at social graces.”

What the hell was that

supposed to mean? He had to know this wasn’t a real date. And it wasn’t as if he was Mr. Personality.

Affronted, she scowled at him.

“What do you want, Jonah? Why did you email me?”

“I told you. Things didn’t work out in Seattle. I’m back and I missed you.”

“You missed me? Five

months you don’t say one word to me. Not a text, not an email, nothing. That doesn’t sound like you missed me.” Despite the small rant, she

wasn’t

bitter

about

it.

Truthfully, she hadn’t missed him.

The shock of the sudden break up had left her reeling for a few days, but then she’d moved on, glad to be free of the distraction. It was only recently, she’d begun to think about relationships again. Watching Jess and Dani, hearing Levi talk about Hope. That had spurred a bout of loneliness. Maybe her grandma was right – everybody desired to be understood, and she was no exception.

“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. The job came with a confidentiality agreement. I didn’t even know what to talk about when I thought about emailing. And I felt bad I left so suddenly. My mind was occupied. I’m sorry.” For what it was worth, he did look guilty. “I handled it wrong.” With a deep breath, he gave her a small smile.

“But I’m back and I’d like to try things again.”

Emerson sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. Now that she was looking at him, face to face, she realized she didn’t want to be someone’s second best. Jonah was only back because he’d either been fired or hadn’t liked the job as much as he’d thought. He wasn’t back for her. He’d picked the job first and she was sloppy seconds.

Why she’d ever let their boring relationship go on for eight months was beyond her.

“I’m not interested in being your fuck buddy, Jonah.”

He flinched. “God, Em. Do you have to be so crass?”

She merely arched a brow and sipped her drink.

“You’re not a,” he paused to look around then whispered, “fuck buddy. You were always more than that to me.”

“No. We weren’t good

together. I’ve moved on. I’m close to my career goals. I don’t need a distraction.” That part was a lie, but she couldn’t deal with him getting all puppy dog schmooky on her right now. And the truth seemed mean. He was boring and she had no attraction to him anymore.

Nodding, he stared down at his hands for a moment. An awkward silence dragged on then he finally lifted his head and broke it.

“Still

working

on

prime

numbers?”

She nodded.

With a derisive snort, he sat back and looked her over. “When are you gonna get a real job and stop chasing pipe dreams?”

“Fuck you,” she spat. “Just because you couldn’t hack it at your dream job, doesn’t mean the rest of us should give up.”

He laughed, managing to

sound condescending. “You need to grow up, Emerson. I was giving you a chance by getting back together. I don’t know what I was thinking.

You’re still a child.”

What had she ever seen in Jonah Michaels? He was a stuck-up, big-headed asshole. She could never be with someone who didn’t support her dream. She’d take an average

guy

who

may

not

understand prime numbers over a pompous

intellectual

who

discouraged it any day. Just as she was about to get up and leave, she caught the movement of a hand waving across the shop.

The owner of the hand was wearing a wide grin – a real one, not like Jonah’s fake one – and a sexy

black

fitted

top

that

accentuated his fit body. Just great.

Levi was the last person she wanted to

see

right

now.

To

her

embarrassment, he walked straight to their table.

“Hey, Em!” he greeted

cheerfully.

His scent washed over her, masculine but sweet, and her heartbeat kicked up a notch. She was torn between grinning up at him like a smitten schoolgirl and hiding under the table in a full on blush.

This crush was getting out of control.

“Hi,” she replied shakily.

Jonah looked back and forth

between the two. She should probably make introductions – that was what people did in situations like this – but honestly, she hoped Jonah would leave.

When he didn’t move, or

introduce himself, she crossed her arms and glared at him. Finally, he snorted and shook his head. “I knew this was a bad idea.” He stood up, taking his coffee cup with him. “See you around, Em.”

She didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Levi took his place and sat down. He made a face. “That was tense.”

“Yeah. Sorry. That was my ex.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “You

okay?”

She studied his face, trying to read the emotion there, though she sucked at that sort of thing.

Math equations made sense, people didn’t. Like right now, Levi’s eyes were kind of squinty and his head cocked to the side. Did he pity her?

She hated being pitied.

Straightening her shoulders, she scoffed. “I’m fine.” Before he could say anything else, she added, somewhat harshly, “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t like coffee.”

“Yes. That stuff will still kill you.” His tone was serious, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Then why are you here?” She narrowed her eyes into a pretend suspicious look. “Are you stalking me?”

“No, but I should be.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

“I’m getting impatient, but we’ll get back to that. First, I need a cup of that poison. It was a long night and I have to deal with a cougar in a little while.” Distracted, he looked around the shop. “What’s the best caffeinated

beverage

here

anyway?”

“
Not
a soy latte,” she said emphatically.

“Okay. Well, do you have any recommendations?”

She took her time looking him over. “If you really want something that’ll wake you up, get an espresso.”

“Yeah?” He craned his neck

to see the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter.

“Unless you’re used to

drinking raw egg and protein powder?” It would explain the muscles.

“No,” he said, laughing. “I drink protein shakes before I run in the morning, but I’m not Rocky.” A runner? How did she get stuck crushing on a health nut, clean freak musician? “Running and morning are two words that should never go together.”

He set that charming smile on her and she felt like melting onto the floor. Maybe she needed something cold to drink.

“An espresso, huh? Okay,

I’ll trust you on this.” He rose from his seat then stopped and looked down at her. “If I buy you a refill, will you give me an update?

Something, anything. I’m dying here.”

Refill on her hot coffee?

No. Cold drink. His waist was at eye level, bringing her attention to the manliness of his build. He had a runner’s physique – fit but not veiny. Just enough to have his way with her when he wanted to. A warm feeling rose up from her stomach, making her blush.

Definitely cold drink.

She cleared her throat. “Um.

Get me the a caramel frappe and I’ll tell you everything I know.” He grinned. “Excellent. Be right back.”

What had gotten into her?

She needed to end this crush now.

They had nothing in common –

they’d be terrible together, even if h e
was
interested. Besides, guys like him went for girls like Hope –

the original version. Beautiful, sweet-faced, perky. Not cynical, anti-social, and nerdy.

Her male counterparts in the geek world lusted after Barbie dolls too. Emerson was always a last resort. It sucked, but such was her lot in life. It was easy to be confident about her intellect but when it came to what she had to offer past that, she’d never gotten beyond the insecure teenager stage.

When it came to numbers and computers, she was Emerson, Supervillain Hacker Queen. But her glasses, flat chest, and scrawny frame ensured she’d never be anyone’s first choice when it came to a relationship.

With Jonah, she’d figured out just how important sex was to her. Not that she knew exactly what she wanted, only that what he offered ended up anti-climactic.

Literally. There were no guarantees Levi would be any better, but damn, at least he was good to look at.

Levi returned to the table, carrying two cups – one topped with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. This was one of her favorite treats during the summer.

He handed her one and sat down across the table.

After popping the lid, he said, “Here goes.” He took a sip then made an exaggerated thinking face. “Hmm.”

“Yes?”

“It’s good!”

She smiled. “You’re such a dork.”

“What?”

He

looked

genuinely perplexed. “Starbucks is a greedy bitch. Four ninety-five for this thing.”

“I’ll take it off your bill.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t mind spending money on you. It’s corporate America robbing me blind that I don’t like.”

“It doesn’t bother me as long as they keep me awake. One of these days, I’ll find my prime number and it’ll all be worth it.” After a big gulp of his drink, he asked, “What is this prime number thing anyway? You seem a bit…”

“Obsessed?”

“I

was

going

to

say

passionate.”

She

chuckled.

“You’re

kinder than most. Jess makes fun of me.”

“I’m a composer. I know

what obsession is.”

Did he? Musicians were

artists. Her work was concrete. It wasn’t something that could be judged based on personal taste. It was so very different from music composition.

But

obsession,

passion, whatever you called it, was something that spanned many fields. Many famous classical composers were known for their eccentricities,

just

like

some

mathematicians she knew.

There was a fine line that separated intelligence and madness.

Anti-social,

OCD,

personality

disorder…these were words that had been thrown around behind her back. Maybe there was some validity there, but it was even worse for artists. The creative genius straddled that line closer than mathematicians.

She eyed Levi carefully.

Just how good was he?

“So prime numbers,” he

said, urging her on. “That’s like eleven and thirteen, right? What do those have to do with hacking?”

“Yes, prime numbers can

only be divided by one and themselves, so they make good answers to puzzles. They’re the basis

for

security

encryption.

Companies will use the product of two large prime numbers as a public key to encrypt a message, but the numbers themselves are kept a secret. When the product number is large enough, it takes too long to factor the private keys and hack into the system. So to test a system’s security, companies will challenge cryptologists,