How to Date a Nerd

Chapter 8 - Chugging Fest for the Broken Hearts

Nathan was sprawled lazily on the sofa when we got home. Miraculously, he didn’t open his stupid mouth and let me get to my room peacefully. I sat silently in front of my piano, staring at the keys, remembering how Sarah played her favorite song, how her fingers struck the black and white keys even if she wasn’t at all good at it. All the thoughts started to suffocate me.

Blankly, I backed away from the piano and looked over to the window. It was getting dark. I wanted to escape. Somewhere I won’t be reminded of Sarah.

I caught glance of my reflection in the mirror. Cursing, I took my bonnet off and threw it on the mirror, heading straight to the bathroom. Bitterly, I removed my fake braces and flushed it in the toilet. What was the point of pretending? I was about to smash my fake glasses with my guitar when Nathan barged in.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Go ahead,” he said leaning on the door frame smirking.

With an annoyed grunt, I flung the guitar on my narrow bed and snatched the glasses from the table, placing it back on my face. “What do you want?” I muttered grudgingly.

Shrugging, Nathan walked past me and tumbled into my bed, picking up my guitar, strumming it as he did. “Dad’s sleeping,” he sang in a tuneless melody. “And I stole his car keys so we could sneak out. Chuck and Reed would be waiting for us at Gil’s,” he continued, still plucking a few out-of-tune chords.

Gil’s is a restaurant downtown owned by Leigh Murough’s dad.  At night, it becomes a mini pub where people hang out to have a drink or two. And because we know Leigh, we were allowed too often to stay out late.

“If I go along, would you quit doing that?” I muttered throwing him a blank stare. My ears could be bleeding by now and my teeth seemed like they were ready to fall off with whatever piece from some alien planet he was playing. But I restrained myself from chucking the piano on Nathaniel Richard Walden’s head. Not because he’s my brother. But because I knew that no amount of death threat could stop him.

He jumped up from my bed, grinning. “I knew you’d see it my way. Now let’s go.”

Nathan grabbed my beanie from the floor and tossed it to me. With a sigh, I followed him, noting how this was the stupidest idea ever. We moved along the long hallway silently, with Nathan forcing me to remove my faded blue Chuck Taylor’s—which was, according to him, identical to the pair he bought last month by mere coincidence—as we passed by Dad’s door.

“Don’t you think we’re too old for this?” I groaned under my breath as we ran downstairs. A dull throb slowly snaked its way to my broken arm. I deliberately ignored it. Nathan would probably just make fun of me.

“Yeah, so what?” he sniggered silently. “You think, he’d let us off after you’ve blown up your car? Being eighteen won’t save you from Arthur’s grounding, so if you won’t mind moving faster.”

At some point, he was right. Dad could be a little too overprotective at times.

“I’m driving,” I said with a final tone as we reached the garage. If I drive like a maniac, then there’s no single word that could describe Nathan’s driving.

He opened the garage door and threw me a yeah right look. “Fat chance, mate. I got the keys, therefore, I drive.” The crazy look on his eyes made me think that Nathan could be the end of me.

Grudgingly, I hauled myself into the two-seater Audi R8 as Nathan wasted precious time admiring the car like a pure nutcase would. “Do take your time, Nate. We’re not so much in a hurry and when Dad finds out, it’s all your idea.”

As he let himself into the driver’s seat, my brother cleared his throat and fixed a pair of oval thick-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. He stared at the steering wheel like it was a Christmas present. “Alright. Let’s see if I still know how to drive.”