Geek Drama

Him and whoever hands out the Nobel prizes, you know.

Just in case.

“Umm, hello Nick,” I say coolly, sticking my chin in the air as regally as I can. He smells green, even in a cupboard full of bleach.

“Hi Harriet. Were you under the impression that you’ve recently turned into a cat?”

It’s dark in here, but not quite dark enough: I can still see the end of his nose twitching in amusement.

“Of course not.” I try to lift my chin a little bit more. “I was just … umm …” What? What am I doing in a cupboard? “Keen to see as many elements of the fashion industry as possible. It’s important to get a really rounded view of modelling. From, you know, different angles.”

I clear my throat.

“Uh-huh,” he says, except this is nothing like the uh-huh the models gave me an hour ago. It’s a warm uh-huh. An amused uh-huh. An I inexplicably understand what happened without being told and I don’t think any less of you for it uh-huh.

“Umm.” I swallow. “What are you doing here?”

He grins and takes a step towards me. “I had to pick up a Versace contract from Wilbur, and he told me you’d gone missing. He’s checking under all the tables in the building, and I’m doing all the cupboards.”

My cheeks get steadily hotter.

Just because the first time I ever met Nick Hidaka I was hiding under a table doesn’t mean I’m always under one. I’ve seen him several times outside of furniture too.

His memory is very selective.

We stare each other out for a few seconds.

Clearly the only way to get out of this predicament in style is to stalk out of the cupboard. To stick my nose in the air, be dignified, and charge out in an adult, sophisticated kind of—

A bubble of embarrassed laughter pops out of my mouth.

Nope, that wasn’t it, was it?

“I’m a ninny, aren’t I?” I say, twisting my mouth and staring at the floor.

“A little bit,” Nick laughs in his warm Australian twang.

“I try really hard but I’m not entirely sure I can help it,” I admit. “It seems to be inbuilt.”

Nick puts a hand under my chin and gently tilts my head back up so I’m looking at him again. “Luckily, I have a soft spot for ninnies. Especially the kind that can recite the periodic table backwards.”

And as the boy I like best in the world leans down to kiss me, suddenly a cupboard doesn’t seem like the worst place in the world to be stuck in after all.

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adly, we don’t get to stay in there.

I pitch for it quite hard. I suggest a cupboard picnic: I’m pretty sure I have a few bits of broken chocolate bar at the bottom of my satchel and, if I rummage hard enough, half a cheese and onion sandwich we can split in two.

Basically anything that will prolong my time in what now magically appear to be incredibly romantic surroundings.

Unfortunately, Nick has other ideas.

“Isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be?”

“The casting?” I poke my head out of the cupboard and frown. The lights of the corridor upstairs have all been turned off. “I think everyone’s gone now. It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t that bothered anyway.”

I lean up to kiss him again.

“Nope,” Nick laughs, kissing the end of my nose instead. “Not Brink. Somewhere else.”

Sugar cookies. Why does he always remember everything I say? If I didn’t know better, I’d think Nick had my life itinerary bullet pointed and stashed away in his pocket somewhere.

Which is totally the kind of thing I’d do, but I didn’t think it was his style.

“Oh,” I say airily, waving a hand, “I guess I’ve missed it by now. Never mind.”

Nick lifts an eyebrow. “I’m not sure Nat would see it like that.”

Nat.

I’m suddenly flooded with a wave of shame and guilt so intense I almost fall over. Because I’m going to be honest: if there was another bright side to being stuck in a cupboard, it was that I couldn’t be anywhere else.

Somewhere even worse.

I look at the floor. “I suppose I did promise,” I admit in a small voice. “And she is my best friend.”

Only friend.

Now is probably not the time to make that clarification.

“Exactly.” Nick grins and leans towards me. “It’ll be fun. No biggy.”

We all know what he means when he says that, which is: exactly the opposite. I try to look cross, which is almost impossible when you’re being kissed.

“Next you’ll be telling me to break a leg,” I mutter grumpily.

Nick laughs and grabs my hand. “Come on, Table Girl. There’s a train to your school in fifteen minutes. I’ll walk you to the station.”

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up: school.

It’s 6:30pm on a Saturday evening, and I’m now standing back outside the gates of what should really be a closed building. Usually I’d be delighted to be here out of hours, but right now, frankly, there are other places I’d rather be.

Anywhere, actually.

The winds on Neptune reach at least 2,000 kilometres per hour and are capable of ripping a building to shreds. After a bit of consideration, I’d probably choose to hang out there instead.