Talk Nerdy To Me (The Sterling Shore Series Book 13) Read online

  “Kill me now,” Taylor whisper-yells

  “The reason it’s important to know, is because the hymen is the center of a lot of easily solved controversy. Some girls say it was the most pain they’ve ever felt.”

  A few girls whimper somewhere in the room. I just want to rewind time and not ask Britt if I can come to this thing.

  Salem looks like she’s working to keep a straight face when she glances over at our four pale ones.

  Tria doesn’t look at us at all, because it seems like she’s struggling to remain seriously attentive, and knows she’ll lose it if she looks in our direction.

  Britt is fucking stoic.

  And very passionately speaking about…hymens. To a lot of little girls. We’re the only dudes in here, and everyone is noticing that more and more.

  “Some girls claim to have felt no pain at all,” Britt goes on. “Age always helps to deal with that. The hymen naturally erodes, stretches, and thins with age, physical activity, and a healthy menstrual cycle.”

  “I hate you,” Sticks whispers to me. “I’m quitting the band.”

  I ignore him, because I’m busy trying to figure out how to get out of here when this thing is over with the fewest amount of people seeing my face.

  Sticks has one hand up, like he’s shielding half his face, when Britt adds, “You don’t actually ‘break’ the hymen. It just stretches. That pain or the drops of blood is often from a tear. Some women don’t bleed at all after the first time they have sex, because they’ve whittled their hymens down so that they comfortably stretch without tearing.”

  Taylor passes me a note like this is high school, and I unfold it.

  My balls just left my body and ran out of here. Can I go chase them?

  I scribble down a response and pass it back.

  Only if you want everyone seeing your face when you stand up. I’m positive the room is packed.

  He groans when he reads it, and Britt glances in our direction. “Any questions?” she asks Taylor, smiling cheerfully.

  Taylor looks ready to die when she singles him out, and he shakes his head rapidly.

  “One question,” Randy says, holding up his hand like this is class.

  “He’s out of the band for real now,” Sticks hisses when we feel the burn of everyone’s eyes on us.

  “When can we eat the doughnuts?” Randy asks, even though three of his doughnuts have bites out of them now.

  “After we’re done with the demonstration,” Britt answers, her eyes flicking to a diagram of a…vagina…as it pops up on the screen.

  I definitely don’t like the word “vagina,” but clinical terminology is best, given the fact that diagram is ruining the female anatomy for me right now.

  Britt takes some sort of pointer tool, and holds it up to a very “open” display of the vagina.

  “Nude shots and doughnuts. Best. Day. Ever,” Randy says, drawing too much attention to us.

  “It’s a drawing, you idiot,” Taylor snaps.

  “This is the part you boys probably came to take notes about,” the old lady beside me stage whispers as she nudges my arm with her elbow.

  I look over as she gestures toward the diagram. “Someone finally drew you numbskulls a map,” she adds.

  Looking at the diagram, I start to say something to the lady, though I forget what when Britt deadpans, “This is the clitoris.” Britt then taps the end of her little stick on the section of the diagram in question, as though it needs to be pointed out.

  My head snaps back to the old woman as she winks at me, and I jerk my gaze away from her, glancing down our table to see when Randy starts actually writing shit down.

  “I really thought that thing was farther south,” Randy says as he scribbles away, once again speaking way too loudly. “That explains so much.”

  A few, “Oh, that’s why they’re here,” comments reach my ears, and Sticks, Taylor, and I all slink down farther in our seats.

  “I thought I couldn’t be embarrassed,” Sticks growls.

  “Same here,” I bite out, ready to rip Randy’s head off.

  “This is the urethra,” Britt goes on, pointing to another section of the diagram.

  “That I don’t need to know,” Randy says, pen poised and ready to write, should Britt give him anymore necessary information.

  Another note slides in front of me from Taylor.

  I hate you.

  I scribble back, I hate me too, and pass it to him.

  “Then you have the inner labia,” Britt goes on, pointing at another section.

  “Do not ask what the inner labia is,” Sticks hisses at Randy when he starts to raise his hand. “Or I will kill you in front of too many witnesses.”

  Randy slowly lowers his hand, frowning over at us.

  “Then you have the vaginal opening, and as long as you’re a virgin, you will have a hymen of some variety blocking, mostly blocking, or partially blocking full admittance to foreign objects.”

  Little baggies of those Fruit Roll-ups get dropped off at our table, but they’re not the actual Fruit Roll-ups. At all. Like not even a little.

  I get a little queasy when I start realizing the purpose of the doughnuts.

  “The gelatin-like candy is malleable and designed to demonstrate the different types of hymens. Without tearing them, carefully pull away the excess, then place one type of gelatin hymen under every doughnut, carefully lining it up.”

  Another image pops on screen, and I really want to die. In four different ways. One way for each of the hymens I’m about to have to replicate with a fruit candy and a doughnut in a roomful of mostly new-teen girls.

  How did this happen?!

  Sucking it up, Sticks and I begin constructing the hymens—something I never thought I’d be doing in my lifetime.

  “While there are a number of ways a hymen can appear before sex, given the wear-and-tear hypotheses where some hymens can look like a honeycomb, there are four accepted labels for hymens, according to my research.”

  Randy is looking from the diagram to the doughnut, perfecting his shit like he needs to ace this test. Taylor is muttering to himself, probably constructing four ways to kill me—one for each hymen doughnut.

  Sticks tears his second hymen, shoves it at me, and takes my untorn one to replace it. I just glare at him.

  Britt better not inspect these, or I will kill him for that.

  As of right now, I feel like I owe him a little. The least I can do is give him one of my hymens.

  Britt grins, glancing around, as everyone finishes.

  Then she moves to the diagram of all four vaginas with different hymens.

  Another note slides in front of me from Taylor.

  Thanks to you, I’ll never hook up with a virgin now. Thanks a lot. I’ve been traumatized.

  I crumble the paper and tuck it into my pocket, when the old lady beside me snorts indignantly, because that old bat has started reading the notes we’re passing.

  “No offense, but I get why the Sterling guys say this isn’t their thing,” Sticks whispers to me angrily. “They don’t want to look like perverts in a room full of virgins, most of whom still need a legal guardian in attendance to even hear this lecture.”

  “The solid hymen that completely blocks the vaginal opening is the imperforate hymen,” Britt tells us, her eyes flicking warmly to me.

  I force a smile, and, since I don’t want her knowing how uncomfortable I really am, for some reason, I wink at her. Then realize that was probably not the best time to wink.

  “I don’t have one of those, remember?” she tells me directly, as though she thinks that wink meant I was somehow insinuating her type of hymen.

  Everyone looks over at me. I can feel it without turning around to see it.

  “Really hate you,” Sticks mutters, practically disappearing under the table when he slinks down even farther.

  Britt goes on like it’s no big deal. “The imperforate is actually not notably common, but it’s more common than
most people realize. And in most cases, needs to be surgically taken care of early on to avoid painful discomfort.”

  Randy scribbles more shit down for reasons I can’t fathom.

  “The septate hymen has two openings with a band of tissue in the center. Though, the openings are rarely ever equal in size,” Britt goes on. “This type of hymen is still not considered common, but some stats show that one in every one thousand women have them, and very few women actually know their type of hymen. So I’d say it’s more common than most of us realize.”

  Britt points at this mentioned hymen on her diagram, and I glance down at my septate doughnut, trying not to make eye contact with her again so I don’t do something stupid that makes her think I’m once again assuming her type of hymen.

  “Penetration is a novel feeling that can cause the stretching to be painful, and everyone will have different experiences, mostly because none of our hymens are exactly the same.”

  I risk a glance up as she points at the next one.

  “Microperforate hymen is up next, though, you will find various names for all of these on the internet. I find these all to be the most scientifically valid. This particular hymen is known for the pinhole entrance that prevents it from being an imperforate hymen. These sometimes need more stretching before sexual penetration is considered.”

  Britt pulls up her stick and points to the final one. Thank fuck.

  “The crescent moon-like shape of this one is the most common hymen, dubbing it the ‘normal’ hymen because of its commonality. It has more elasticity and can be stretched easier before sexual penetration to ensure the least amount of pain.” She glances at me. “This is actually my hymen.”

  I hold up an okay sign with my hand, and start wondering how many people in here might recognize me.

  She looks back around the class. “It’s best to learn your type of hymen. Knowing your body is a good thing. It’s your body. Being aware of all of its significant secrets that will directly impact your life may change a lot of your experiences just because you know what to expect. Not to mention, it’s your right as a female to understand the complexities of the female body. Fear of the unknown is doubled when you don’t even know your own body.”

  The End, flashes across the projector screen, and people start clapping. Randy actually stands, starting a standing ovation, while I stay slumped in my seat and clap.

  After the applause ends, Randy starts devouring his hymen doughnuts, while Sticks and Taylor shove theirs away. “Two of my favorite snack foods have been ruined for eternity,” Taylor grumbles.

  Britt goes to shake hands, while three out of four of us try to hide our faces as the room disperses.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Sticks when he posts a picture from our trip to Mexico two years ago on the band’s website.

  “Giving us an airtight alibi in case someone noticed us,” he mutters.

  We leave Randy behind as he starts eating our hymen doughnuts.

  “Yo, you tore your septate hymen,” Randy calls to my back, and the three of us walk faster, now pretending we don’t know him.

  A woman stops, her thirteen-ish daughter next to her, and she frowns as she studies us.

  “You look familiar,” she says, pointing at the three of us.

  “Well, I don’t know who we remind you of, but I can promise we’re not The Fallen,” Taylor says, causing Sticks and I both to groan. “Heard those guys were in Mexico,” Taylor adds, obvious as fuck.

  Her brow furrows. “I doubt The Fallen need quick anatomy tutorials designed for young girls,” the woman says. “You remind me of someone else, but I can’t figure out who...”

  I breathe out a sigh of relief, just as Randy says, “Nurse, I need a ten blade! I’m going for the imperforate hymen doughnuts now.”

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sticks groans, turning toward the back door and practically sprinting out.

  I glance at Britt, gesture toward the back door, and actually sprint out as well when I see two cops walk in.

  Holy fucking hell.

  As soon as we get outside, Taylor says, “Well, you love a good surprise. Consider us even for absolutely fucking everything we’ve ever asked you to do.”

  We stand silently for a moment, allowing ourselves to be a little horrified, then suddenly Taylor bursts out laughing. Sticks and I steadily join in, laughing increasingly louder as we lose control.

  Randy bursts through the doors, several boxes of doughnuts in hand.

  “Dude, Britt’s awesome. She gave us all the leftover hymen doughnuts we wanted.”

  The laughter quickly dispels and turns into groans again.

  “This day will never be forgotten,” Taylor deadpans.

  Chapter 24

  BASE

  Britt’s trying to kill me. With her body. Half naked all the time.

  I’m really thankful to be on the road today, because I won’t be tempted to throw her over the couch and forget to take things slow. Because she’ll be wearing clothes. Or at least that was the goal. Until she walked out of her room looking like she does right now.

  Since her brother’s appearance, we haven’t gotten that close again. But I’ve decided to let things roll. She knows I’m leaving in three months. She knows my priorities.

  She’s a fucking adult who can make her own decisions without my opinions or anyone else’s.

  I’m sick of fucking pretending I can be a saint. Especially since I can’t keep my damn hands off her. Even standing close requires me touching her in some way.

  Now she’s bent over my couch in my house with the tightest pants I’ve ever seen as she digs out her crossword puzzle book from her purse. Apparently she thinks this trip will be as boring as the last trip.

  My hand slides around her waist, tugging her toward the door, as the guys finish loading up the last of the equipment in the trailer.

  “We’ll be sleeping in the van tonight,” Taylor tells her as she steps out.

  “Already informed her,” I say as I climb in behind her, straddling the trailer that’s hooked behind us in order to get in.

  Taylor and Randy take the front, and Sticks joins us in the back.

  Just before the doors shut, I hear, “I’m here! I’m late, but I’m here!”

  Britt perks up, looking toward the doors as I put my arm around her, both of us sitting on the bench seat across from Sticks on the other.

  “I thought I’d invite someone you seemed to get along with, so that you wouldn’t be the only one on the outside of the inside jokes,” I tell Britt, smiling when she studies me for a second.

  Krysta hurtles herself inside, closing the doors behind her.

  “And I’m going to redeem myself,” Krysta says as she drops her bag next to ours and plops down on the seat near Sticks, but not too close.

  Sticks grins as he glances over at her.

  “You mean you’re not going to get shit-faced wasted within an hour?” he prods.

  “Har. That’s exactly what I mean. I’m not going to drink at all,” she tells him, and then glances over at Britt and smiles. “And I owe you big time.”

  “I didn’t do much. Ruby came,” Britt informs her.

  Krysta’s cheeks redden a little, even as she tries to pretend she’s not embarrassed. “Yes, well, you didn’t owe me even that much. You could have just left me at my house or in my car.”

  “That would have been wrong,” Britt points out, as though that’s obvious. “And very terrible.”

  Krysta just smiles a little, relaxing in her seat as Taylor starts trying to make everyone think this is going to be an epic road trip.

  Sticks and I groan in unison.

  After we’re all sick of Randy singing and manage to get the music cut down, Sticks looks over at Britt, who is sitting next to a familiar stack of doughnut boxes that Randy brought along.

  “So why’d you start up those hymen classes at the clinic?” Sticks asks, as Krysta sputters and chokes on her water in surprise.
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  “People consider me to be highly intelligent, but when I started trying to gather information on my body and sex, I realized how very little information I’d been made aware of,” she states simply.

  “So you decided to share?” Krysta asks, recovering as she tries to join in on the conversation.

  Britt shrugs. “It’s just small little lectures. They sprinkle the day with them and different speakers, but keep them short and fun.”

  It sort of goes quiet after that…like no one knows how to follow that up or what conversation will make sense now. I have no idea why I’m fucking nervous right now and making this weird.

  I give Sticks the eye, prompting him to step up and kick conversation back up.

  “So what kind of parents did you get in foster care?” he asks Britt suddenly, and I narrow my eyes on him.

  However, he just looks at her, waiting on her to answer.

  She doesn’t even tense before answering, “A variety.”

  “I had a variety too,” he says with a shrug. “I kept getting yanked back by my grandmother, because she was trying to keep me out of the system, but I lost three good homes before I landed in a check-casher’s place for the rest of my time.”

  She doesn’t really say anything much.

  He really could have gone any other direction with the conversation than delving right for the hard stuff. Sheesh. You’d think we don’t know how to socialize either.

  “It’s mostly a blur,” Britt states noncommittally.

  “What about your parents?” he asks when she doesn’t readily volunteer the information.

  I make a throat-slicing gesture, and he clears his throat and looks away.

  “I have limited information about them.”

  He frowns. “You couldn’t find them or anyone who knew them?” he asks, rolling with it.

  “I’m not ready to know, and I feel like I should be certain I can prepare for the worst before tackling that,” she says like she’s thought about this a lot.

  “I went crazy—a little bit literally—trying to find my father. I thought life would be better if I found him, because I just knew that he didn’t know I existed. And you didn’t even wonder about yours?” Krysta asks her like she’s genuinely curious.