Queens of Geek

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TAYLOR

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Jamie says.

I'm resting my head on his chest and he's stroking my hair while we watch a rerun of Supernatural.

"Much better," I say, stifling a yawn. "Now that the chaos has settled."

"Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling," he says in his surprisingly good Christian Slater voice.

I sit up and lean against the bed head. "Heathers."

I glance down at him, then back at the TV, and purse my lips into a smile.

He sits up next to me. "What?"

"Nothing." I smile again.

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you fantasizing about Destiel right now?"

"Hey, don't knock Destiel." I laugh. "Okay, I was just thinking. I've never been able to tell you this before, but seeing as things are ... changing: You're pretty cool."

He narrows his eyes. "Are you mocking me?"

"No! I'm totally serious. I mean, you've read all the Firestone books almost as many times as I have. You have an epic collection of Star Wars t-shirts. You watch Supernatural. You're an awesome photographer. Not to mention a pretty stellar ketchup hunter. And you just quoted Heathers."

He lets out a throaty laugh. "Yeah. If you're into the whole pop-culture-addicted-super-dork-thing," he points to himself with his thumbs and gives me a cheesy smile, "I'm your guy."

I elbow him in the ribs. "Shut up! I'm serious."

He runs his fingers down my arm. "Well, thank you. I think you're pretty cool, too. You've read the Firestone books even more times than I have. You kick ass at Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. You watched all the Paranormal Activity movies with me even though it gave you nightmares. And when I try to flirt with you, it takes approximately 1.2 seconds for your cheeks to turn pink."

I feel my cheeks heat up, and he laughs. "See? 1.2 seconds."

A smile spreads across my face and I lean back against him to watch the TV. Sam and Dean are having one of their trademark broments about how they need each other and will always fight for each other.

It makes me think about Jamie, and UCLA, and next year.

"So," I say, swallowing nervously. "About UCLA."

"Mhmm ...?"

"Do you think you'll accept the offer?"

He shrugs under me. "Probably not."

I trace his fingers with my own. "That's not because of me, is it?"

He doesn't say anything for a few beats. "Partly."

I shift uncomfortably on the bed. "I don't want you to miss out on going to your dream college because of me."

He hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to his chest to make me more comfortable. "Firstly, it's not my dream college. It's my parents' dream college. There are really good photography courses in Melbourne. I'd be just as happy at Melbourne Uni or RMIT."

"And secondly?"

"Secondly." He takes in a breath. "I've waited four years for this." He squeezes me tight and presses his lips to my hair. "Accepting that offer would be putting an expiry date on us, and I just can't do that."

I let out a sad sigh, and he can tell I'm not entirely convinced.

"Look," he says. "I may have come from the U.S., but Australia is my home now. My family is in Melbourne. My friends are there. You are there. My whole life is there. The only reason I'd go to UCLA is to make my parents happy. But I'd be miserable. Do you really want me to be miserable?"