Nerd Loves Boy (Boy Meets Nerd #3)

Chapter 1

I finish packing the last box with the last of the tape still on the roller and feel a wave of excitement, dread, nervousness, and hope rush over me all at once when I scan the room around me. My eyes go from my balcony, the cream colored curtains still hanging neatly with a tie around the middle of both panels, then to my bookshelves, mostly still packed with paperbacks, hardbacks and some audio CDs with some empty spaces on the shelves. I made sure to pack only a few books to take with me so as not to crowd up much-needed space in the dorm room. I hear they're very small and even leaving a shoe by the door can crowd the room. I look at my desk, its empty surface bright white except for a single picture frame and a small lamp that sit at one of the corners. I look at my bed, the sheets neatly tucked, folded and fluffed and I sigh as I think about how much I'm going to miss sleeping in it every night. I barely wanted to get up this morning and I can't imagine not being able to hop back in underneath the sheets and I haven't even left the house yet.

I look around at the empty feeling room, knowing the walls and the objects will feel lonely once there's no one in here to keep them company with late night reading or brainstorming for school projects. No one typing away on the computer for a new book review to post on a blog or music coming through the speakers when cleaning the room. No one to fall asleep inside the safety of this private little world and no one to bring yet another book in to stuff onto a shelf and pray to God it fits. My Audry cave will be short an Audry. So will my parents, of course, but that's not the point.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts out and lift the box in front of me, full with extra sheets and blankets by mom's orders, and head downstairs, not wanting to prolong the inevitable. I close my bedroom door behind me and make my way downstairs. As I pass the bedroom door further down the hall, I get another tight feeling in my chest. It happens every time, every day and has for the past year. Ever since Cameron moved away to New York to study at Parsons, fashion marketing and the world of things it takes to get a single plain white t-shirt into an Urban Outfitters and get it to sell in no time, I always get a slight pain in my chest when I walk by her door. I expect without meaning to for her to open her door and tell me to bring her a snack on my way back up or to hear insanely loud music early in the morning or even hear her screaming my name from downstairs or bursting through my door without knocking. Every day when none of those things happen, it makes me miss her even more. I hate it when I miss her because it means I need her in my life and no sibling alive wants to admit they need their brother or sister. At least I don't want to admit it. Not today, at least.  

I bring the box downstairs and set it beside the front door for dad to take to the car. I check my suitcase for the fifth time that morning to make sure I have all my essentials like a toothbrush and the like. After checking each pocket on the outside, I decide against opening up the suitcase again because mom told me that if I checked it again, she'd tie me to my bed. Apparently, she didn't like to be reminded that I was leaving and the only thing making it worse was asking if I packed something. Note to self: don't say the P word in front of mom. When dad comes into the house once again to grab the last box, he pauses for a second to look at me as I stand there with my arms crossed, trying not to look so nervous about today.

"You okay, kiddo?" he asks. I bite my lip as I nod my head a couple of times but dad doesn't buy it. He readjusts the box in his arms before sighing. "You're going to be fine. Nothing to be nervous about. You'll make friends, get new opportunities, find your way in the world and all that jazz. It'll be fun, just you wait and see."

"Easy for you to say," I roll my eyes. "You're not the one going to college where no one knows you, didn't know you even existed might I add, and most importantly, be expected to succeed by who knows how many teachers."