How To Date A Christian Dork: A Helpful Handbook For The Datingly Impaired.

Tip 6: Don't Frustrate The Dork

Tip 6: Don't Frustrate The Dork

I was seconds away from tearing my hair out in frustration. Brett was getting on my very last nerve that Monday. For the past thirty minutes, I had been trying to explain algebraic expressions to him, but it seemed he just didn't want to co-operate with me.

"But why does x have to move?" he asked. "Maybe it likes being negative. Pessimists are realists after all."

I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten.

"Is everything okay in there?" called Mrs Brown from the parlour. She was the Hollisters' housekeeper.

"Everything's A-okay!" I trilled, in a sugary sweet voice. We were in their spacious dining hall. Mrs Brown entered then, holding a tray of scrumptious looking brownies and a jug of cool, refreshing lemonade. Just what the doctor ordered.

"Aunt Lisa!" exclaimed Brett. "You really shouldn't have."

"I didn't," she said, dryly. "At least, not for you. It's for Kayla. She needs it if she's tutoring you."

"Wow. I just...that hurt man." Brett hit his chest, and pretended to choke back a sob. Mrs Brown rolled her light grey eyes, and set the tray in front of me.

"Mrs Brown...really, I can't...I just ate," I protested, sounded feeble even to myself.

"Nonsense, child. Eat as much as you want, and don't bring the tray back unless it's empty." With that, she turned and left. I smirked at Brett, who was hungrily eyeing the brownies, and took a big bite of one.

"Mhmm..." I moaned, licking chocolaty goo off of my fingers. "Delish!"

"Kayla," said Brett, inching closer to me. "Could I, maybe, just, possibly...get a brownie? Pretty please?"

"No," I snapped. "They're mine."

"Please."

"No."

"No?"

"Yes."

"So that's a yes."

"No!"

"So...no?"

"Yes, no!"

He shrugged. "I heard yes first."

With that, he snatched my brownies and lemonade and sprinted towards the marble staircase.

"Hey! That's not fair! Give them back! They're mine!"

I took off after him, determined to get my snacks back. The evil boy was stuffing them into his mouth as he ran.

"When I get my hands on you, your own grandmother won't recognise you!" I yelled. I was closing in on him. For an athlete, he was moving really slowly. Turning back, he panicked when he saw how close I was, and threw a brownie at me.

Smack! It hit me square in the nose and threw me off balance. I ran into a wall with a loud bang. Brett stopped and ran back to me.

"Kayla! Are you okay?" He set the tray and jug down beside him, and knelt in front of me. I smirked at his gullibility, closed my eyes, and pretended to groan in pain.

"Aw man!" he moaned, running his fingers through his blonde hair. "Kayla? Kayla?"

I opened my eyes, grinned and snatched the brownies, leaving the lemonade behind.

"Kayla, you little..." he growled. He got up and made to chase me, but tripped on the lemonade jar, which rolled down the staircase, spilling its contents before breaking into a million pieces at the foot of the stairs.