Beauty and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 1) (15 page)

“What about that fucking list?”

“The list was a mistake. I never—I wasn’t thinking things through when I made it. I want to fix this, but I don’t know how. She has to hate me.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know—maybe pick up the fucking phone? For a smart guy, you’re being really stupid.”

“I have, and I put it down every time.”

“So that’s it? You’re done with her? Had your fucks, your thrills and that’s it? She didn’t pass your test so it’s on to the next one?”

“No, no it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh, because you’re different from every other guy who tries to get with her?”

“It was—no.
No
, it wasn’t like that. Not at all.”

“Really? Because from this side I see a guy who manipulated my friend into meeting her, screwed her until he was happy, and then left because she didn’t measure up to some weird test you have.”

“No—
hell
no.” His voice reverberated through the lab. Students stared. He ducked his head and pitched his voice lower. “That is not what happened. Is that what she thinks happened?”

“You so do not get that information.”

“Please—just, is she okay? What do you want me to say?”

“I want the truth. Usually, we tell people they should be scared of Tamara, but I’m the one you should worry about.”

The truth was for Tamara, but he didn’t deserve that kind of…it wasn’t a second chance. More like an audience.

He leaned on the workbench, shoving one hand through his hair.

“Maybe things went too fast? I didn’t have my head screwed on straight. I…let me back up.”

He cleared his throat. Too many thoughts were whirling through his brain and he didn’t have the chance to get them all nailed down.

“I knew I wanted to meet her, that things could be different, but I wasn’t expecting…I don’t know what I thought. After the way we met, yeah, I made a list because my head wasn’t screwed on straight. It was for me to process things. I was—I fell hard. That’s who I am. I get…blind. So yeah. I made a list because I think in processes. A then B then C…it wasn’t supposed to be a test. It was supposed to be a check list. Everything I wanted to do with her. Share with her. It wasn’t a test and it was…not a bucket list. It was… I don’t know. Special. Is that what you want to hear? We clicked, and it was weird and good.”

“What about the party?”

“I…I wanted that guy to treat her with respect. I didn’t want for her to feel like she had to put up with being harassed, just so she could get a job. That’s—it’s not right, and I know that the world isn’t fair, but this is Tamara. I just…I was angry. Not at her, I should never have said any of those things to her. I shouldn’t have been one more guy making her life difficult. I should have been…supporting her. And all I did…was become the problem. Is that what you’re wanting to hear? That I fucked up and I’m to blame?”

“Christ, you’re just like Tamara. I’m almost afraid to ask. Have you even showered recently?”

“This morning. Before that? Probably five or six days.”

“God, you’re pathetic.”

He didn’t bother denying the statement. What was there to deny? How many times had he called himself pathetic, a loser and worse?

“I didn’t mean—shit.” Piper sighs. “Tamara cried. I don’t know if you know this about her—but she doesn’t cry. It’s not because she’s a bitch or doesn’t have feelings, she just…can’t cry. Not since…a long time ago. And... You made my best friend cry. I didn’t think it was humanly possible for her to cry anymore.”

“Shit.” The knowledge hit him worse than a ton of bricks. He leaned forward, head cradled in his hand, eyes squeezed shut.

“Here’s the thing. You sound as sad as she does, and the only—the one and only—reason I’m calling you is because I’ve never seen her let anyone get her down like this before. Ever. And I know Tamara.”

Stephen could read between the lines.

Piper had been there for the worst of it.

And this took the cake.

“I don’t deserve a second chance.” He stared at the metal plate wall.

“No, you don’t. But she deserves someone who knows how to say I’m sorry. Do you know how to say you’re sorry?”

Stephen swallowed. He was a sorry fuck, the sorriest.

“What do I have to do?” he asked, barely able to get the words out.

15.

Tamara’s smile hurt her
face. She’d learned how to screw it into place, make it part of her costume, but tonight it was a real trial. She clapped when she was supposed to, laughed, cheered and did all of the things the CosCon staff had hired her to do for the costume contest. She, Piper, Miranda, and most of all, Rashae were the celebrity panel of judges, and their role was just as important as any one other element of the show. But now that was over and there was a seemingly never ending line of people who wanted pictures and selfies.

Rashae had outdone herself with their outfits for the weekend. Tonight’s were a recreation of the core characters from the Drudge 7 video game, which just coincidentally happened to be one of Miranda’s creative projects. They were perfect, down to the molded and painted blaster guns and swords.

Tamara eyed the two dudes that were next in line.

They were so not here as part of the cosplay convention. Which meant they were here for the virtual reality gaming retreat thing.

Ug.

Adam was one of their spokesmen.

She hadn’t seen him yet, but these two looked somewhat familiar.

“You guys ready?” Tamara held her blaster in front of her. Just in case. Some of the grown ass men got handsy.

The guy on her left crowded in while the one on the right held the camera. She smiled, putting on a good face for the camera.

A large, warm hand cupped her bottom.

And then another one.

“Hey!” Piper barked. She swatted away the camera and shoved the guy on Tamara’s left, thrusting her finger in his face. “That is not okay.”

“Chill, we were just taking a picture.” The selfie taker scowled at Piper.

“And that means groping my friend’s ass?” Rashae elbowed her way in, giving Tamara a little more breathing room. “I don’t think so. There’s the door, bye-bye.”

“We’re—”

“Go on. You aren’t even supposed to be here.” Rashae pointed at the door.

The cosplay convention wasn’t well-policed, so they’d had numerous walk-in’s. That wasn’t always a bad thing, but the virtual reality guys were generally dicks. Tamara wished a little camera groping was a new thing, but it wasn’t.

The duo glared over their shoulders and shuffled toward the door. Tamara and the girls watched them go. After the bar scuffle from the night before, they’d learned the hard way that the hotel was not prepared to deal with altercations and that the virtual reality group was ignoring any issues. It was a crap set-up that wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Good lord, what must their mother’s think?” Rashae muttered.

“Come on, ladies, we have” —Piper checked the watch on her wrist armor, a neat detail Rashae had worked in— “fifteen minutes until the party starts. At least there’s a badge required for entry.”

Tamara didn’t groan. She just grimaced.

“Oh, come on, smile.” Miranda prodded her ribs. She’d missed the whole thing and was only now returning from a bathroom break.

“I was smiling, for like—two whole hours.” Tamara followed Rashae between the chairs.

Most of the people remaining were also taking pictures. The convention wrap party was always a fun affair, but Tamara wasn’t in the mood for more peopling. Not after avoiding Adam all weekend.

She was tired of it—and him.

What she wanted was Stephen, a beach and a week without the Internet. What she was going to get was a loud room, glitter she couldn’t wash off for a week and a strong drink.

“I saw Josh earlier. He stopped in for the VR thing,” Rashae said over her shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. We were going to try to have a drink but I had to step in on that panel. Shoot.” Tamara patted her pockets. “My phone’s still on the stage. Hold the elevator for me?”

She turned on her heel and jogged back into the ballroom. Sure enough, the cleaning crew had saved her phone from getting swept up in the break-down.

For fun, she checked her messages. Plenty from new contacts, a few opportunities, but nothing from the person she wanted to talk to.

It really was over with Stephen. She needed to just accept it.

“Tammy baby.”

She wanted to hurl at the sound of that voice.

“Go away, Adam.” Her patience was shot.

“Hey, hold up a second.” He snagged her wrist before she could slide past him and into the atrium.

“Adam—let go of me. Now.”

“I just wanted to talk. You know? It’s been a while, and I was thinking—”

“What were you thinking, Adam? Please, tell me. There’s nothing I want more to know about than what new, degrading, disgusting thought is in your head.”

“Wow. Wow. Wow. Talk about defensive.”

“I’m not defensive, I’m stating my boundaries. Let. Me. Go. Now.” She pulled against his hold, but Adam was a lot bigger than her.

Shit. The ballroom was all but empty. Where had everyone gone so fast?

“No, bitch.”Adam pulled her closer, until she could smell his breath and the scent of citrus vodka. She couldn’t look at a bottle without thinking of Adam. “You’re going to listen to me—”

Screw this shit.

Tamara turned and he yanked her closer. She stepped back hard, driving the heel of her boot into the arch of Adam’s foot. Teach him to wear nothing but flip-flops. She jabbed her elbow into his side and he doubled over.

“Fuck!” he spat.

“When a woman says let her go—she doesn’t mean hold on, Adam. No means no, not yes.” She was sorely tempted to lay into him. He might be bigger, but he was just another couch potato dude. She could put him on his ass so fast.

Adam straightened, his features twisted into an ugly mask of anger. He took a step toward her, one hand out.

“That’s not—”

“Hey. Back it up.” A man in a suit stepped in-between them and pushed Adam back. He staggered into one of the door frames, his glare going over the man’s shoulder to her.

Yeah, Adam hated her. What else was new?

Tamara stared at the wide shoulders of her would-be hero.

No.

She was imagining that voice.

Adam kicked a different ballroom door open and something crashed to the floor on the other side. Adam spat a string of curse words that fell on deaf ears.

“Oh my God, Tamara, are you okay?” The girls rushed back through the doors, eyes wide, picking their way over a sea of glass and…flowers.

It wasn’t.

It couldn’t be.

Tamara sucked down a deep breath, but her lungs weren’t working right.

Fuck. She was going to cry again.

This was a dream, wasn’t it?

In real life, no one rode in on a white horse to save the day.

Unless…

The man in the suit turned around slowly.

Stephen.

What was he doing there?

Tamara stared.

“I—brought flowers. I think Adam just knocked them over.”

“Lilies are my favorite.”

“I know.”

“Did I ever tell you that?”

“No, Piper told me.”

“Oh.”

Why would Piper tell him that? Why was he there?

And why was there hair on his face?

She wanted to throw something at him. She wanted to hug and kiss him. She wanted to…she wanted…

“Tamara?” He took a step toward her and paused.

He wasn’t in jeans and a button-down, or shorts and a T-shirt. He was wearing a suit. A fancy suit with shiny buttons and a tie. He looked so damn good. God, she missed him.

She covered her mouth.

Why was he there?

Looking at him physically hurt. She felt the pain of it all over.

He took another step toward her, and another, until he was right there in front of her. He grasped her hand and bent his head until their foreheads touched.

“I’ve been an idiot,” he said, so low the music nearly drowned him out.

“You mean you’ve been a fuckface, shit-eating, dirtbag,” Piper said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at both of them.

“That, too.”

“Piper!” Tamara glared.

“You, sir, start groveling, so she can forgive you and the two of you can make up already, because this has been weird, okay?” Piper pressed her hands to her chest. “Also, not to like, alarm you, but I think that whole thing was just uploaded to YouTube.”

Tamara laughed and hiccupped all at once.

She wanted to speak, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Stephen. Fuck YouTube and Adam with a God damn ice pick.

Stephen was here.

He bent his head again, his irises a cool blue. Like the sky. She couldn’t stop staring at him if she’d tried.

“I’m sorry for…for tearing you down when I should have been building you up,” he whispered.

“No, you were right. I should have stood up for myself,” Tamara whispered back.

“Like a few minutes ago?”

“I should have gone for his balls.”

“I’ll go find him, if you want. Hold him down. I think I could get some help.”

Tamara sputtered and laughed. Stephen lifted his hand slowly, his fingers caressing her hair, brushing over her temple.

“I should never have spoken to you like that. Not in public. And not in anger. And…the notebook? Piper said you looked at it?”

“I did. I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“No, I…I should have shared a lot of that with you beforehand. I…was scared. I was scared you would treat me like every other woman in my life. I knew the list was wrong. I wanted to cut it out so many times but….”

“Your OCD would never let you cut a page out.”

“How…”

“Oh, please. You flip out and spend five minutes pressing a page if it gets wrinkled. Like you’re going to cut a page out. But…I kinda…tore it out and burned it.”

“Good.” He reached up and ran his fingers along the perfect curls Piper had spent ages getting just right. “I’m sorry, Tamara. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me, eventually?”

Tamara nodded, blinking furiously.

“Oh my God, I’m going to be sick. I don’t know what you did to my friend, but please—undo it.” Piper’s loud protests barely registered.

Stephen wrapped his arms around her, the chant of, “I’m so, so sorry,” falling from his lips. She squeezed him, ignoring Rashae’s protests about the cosplay outfit in favor of smelling him, feeling his arms around her.

It was the sense of coming home.

“Can you forgive me?” he whispered in her ear. “I promise I won’t walk away—not like that—again.”

“Yes. Can you forgive me?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all on me.”

Tamara couldn’t breathe around the lump in her throat. She nodded and his arms tightened around her.

“Hey, so, you want to finally introduce us all. You guys good? Everything smoothed over?” Piper grinned.

Stephen kept one arm around her waist and held out his hand to Piper first.

“Please—never send me a dick gif—or pic—ever again?” Piper released his hand.

“No, send those—and any available men—to me. Hi, I’m Miranda.”

“I’m still not convinced I shouldn’t shear your balls off, but I’m afraid if I try she’ll kick my ass.” Rashae thumbed at Tamara before taking her turn shaking Stephen’s hand.

“Are you two coming up to the party with us or…?” Piper thumbed over her shoulder.

“Uh…” Stephen glanced at her.

“Nope,” Tamara replied without hesitation. She’d been around people enough and now, she had plans to wipe away all these tears—and do something about the furry monster attached to Stephen’s face.

“Hey, just do me a favor?” Piper waved one hand at them. “Go with the room on the right and close that adjoining door, kay?”

Tamara stared at each too-bright grin in turn.

“You planned this,” she said.

“Not entirely, but a little,” Piper said.

“Thank you.” Tamara squeezed Stephen tighter.

“
Please
take that off before the make-up sex, okay?” Rashae asked.

The girls helped salvage a few of the flowers while someone waved down the cleaning crew. The whole time Tamara kept staring at Stephen, still not quite ready to believe he was there.

Miranda herded the other two away, leaving Tamara and Stephen by themselves while the rest of the hall slowly emptied.

“I can’t believe you’re here. And what’s this?” She stroked a hand over the beard. It was surprisingly soft, but it still wasn’t winning her over.

“It was a mistake.” He tipped his chin up for her inspection.

Yeah, as soon as she could get her hands on a razor, the hair was coming off. Not that she had anything against beards…she just liked his face. All of it.

She grasped him by the chin hair and he winced, but lowered his head to just the right height for a slow, lingering kiss.