The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback (Astra and Zayne) novel Chapter 152

Chapter 152

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I stood frozen in the glow of the courtyard lights, watching Zane’s broad shoulders cut through the crowd. His teammates fell into step behind him like shadows, but Tyler glanced back twice, his expression mirroring the confusion churning in my gut.

*What… just happened?*

One second his hand was warm on my waist. The next, his voice was low in my ear, calling me beautiful. And then Jason appeared… and Zane simply walked away.

A frown tugged at my lips. None of it made sense. Not the sudden shift, or the faint smile he’d flashed before turning away, and definitely not the way my chest twisted at the memory of it.

Why does that bother me?

Jason stood right in front of me, waiting. This was supposed to be our conversation. I forced my attention back to him, but my thoughts kept drifting, circling the same infuriating path.

*Was he angry? Pretending not to be? Or had he simply stopped caring?*

That last possibility settled like ice behind my ribs. I shoved it away hard.

*Good. Why should I care if he doesn’t?*

I didn’t.

…Then why did the thought still sting?

“Astra?”

I blinked, heat flooding my cheeks. “Huh?”

Jason offered a small, puzzled smile. “I was asking how you’ve been doing.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “Y-yes.”

He tilted his head, studying me gently. “Astra…”

My stomach sank.

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“… Were you even listening to anything I just said?”

I stared at him for a beat, then winced. “Yes.” A guilty pause. “Mostly.””

One corner of his mouth lifted in quiet amusement. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “My mind just… wandered.”

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Chapter 152

Straight back to Zane, of course.

Jason’s expression softened with understanding. “You don’t have to apologize.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Sorry.”

He chuckled softly. “There you go again.”

A tiny, embarrassed smile tugged at my lips despite myself. “I guess I am.”

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For a moment, silence settled between us. Music floated across the courtyard, mingling with distant laughter and the soft flicker of overhead candles. Jason slipped a hand into his coat pocket, his gaze warm.

“You really do look beautiful tonight.”

My cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

Before I could respond, a strange prickle crawled across the back of my neck-like invisible fingers tracing my skin. The unmistakable sense of being watched and not by Jason.

Almost against my will, my eyes swept across the courtyard, searching for one tall, infuriating football captain who was supposed to be giving me space. I couldn’t find him in the crowd.

And somehow, his absence only made the feeling sharper.

“…I almost forgot,” Jason said, his voice gently pulling me back.

He smiled and reached behind his back, producing a slim black gift bag. “I brought you something.”

I blinked, surprised. “For me?”

He nodded, offering it with a small, almost shy smile. “I’ve been carrying it around all evening.”

I accepted the bag carefully, the matte paper cool against my fingers. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” His smile softened. “I wanted to.”

I peeled back the silver tissue paper. Nestled inside lay a beautiful hardbound sketchbook, its midnight-blue cover embossed with delicate silver stars that caught the courtyard light like scattered constellations. Beneath it rested a sleek black zip case filled with professional art supplies, graphite pencils, charcoal sticks, fine liners, a kneaded eraser, and blending stumps.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

My fingertips traced the shimmering silver stars on the cover, something warm and unexpected blooming in my chest.

“…Jason.”

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He watched me quietly. “I remembered you saying you were almost out of pages in your old one.” His voice was soft, thoughtful. “And you kept complaining that your pencils never stayed sharp long enough.”

A surprised laugh slipped out of me. “I complain that much?”

“A little,” he admitted, eyes crinkling with amusement. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured… if anyone deserves better tools, it’s the girl who fills entire notebooks before anyone else finishes one.”

A genuine smile spread across my face before I could stop it, soft and unguarded. “I love it.”

Jason’s shoulders relaxed, his expression brightening. “I was hoping you would.”

My fingers tightened around the sketchbook, the embossed stars pressing into my palm.

Nobody had ever done this for me before.

Mom had bought me supplies over the years, of course-but Jason had listened. Really listened. He remembered the exact frustrations I’d muttered in passing: the pages running out too fast, the pencils dulling after a single intense session, the way I always wished for better tools when inspiration struck at midnight.

My throat tightened.

“Jason…”

Before I could overthink it, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. It wasn’t a long hug-just a grateful one, warm and sincere. He froze for half a second, then carefully hugged me back, his hand resting lightly between my shoulder blades.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said softly against my hair.

“I love it.” I meant every word.

When I pulled back, a warm smile lit his face. “Come on.” He nodded toward the academy building. “The real party’s inside.”

Still clutching the gift bag like a treasure, I followed him through the massive oak doors.

The ballroom was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers draped in black ivy and deep crimson roses hung from the vaulted ceilings, casting a soft, romantic glow over everything. Hundreds of flickering candles seemed to float above the dance floor, their light shimmering across polished marble. Long velvet drapes framed towering windows, while silver candelabras lined the walls like silent sentinels.

At one end of the room, beneath an enormous gothic archway, a DJ commanded the space. Teachers and staff lingered along the edges, discreet chaperones in themed costumes. The principal, still dressed as a dour undertaker, was laughing with the chemistry teacher, who had fully committed to a wild-haired mad-scientist look. A history teacher glided by in a dramatic Dracula cape, and the English teacher made a striking gothic

countess.

Then the bass dropped.

A pulsing hip-hop track thundered through the speakers, and the dance floor erupted. Students in elaborate

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Victorian gowns and aristocratic coats moved like they were in a downtown nightclub, the contrast strangely electric.

Then Jason held out his hand, palm up, an open invitation. “One dance.”

I stared at it, heart fluttering. “…I don’t know…”

“One.”

“I’ll embarrass both of us.”

“I doubt that.”

“I have the rhythm of uncooked spaghetti.”

He laughed so hard that a nearby couple turned to look. “I have to see that.”

“Jason!”

He wiggled his fingers playfully. “Come on.”

I sighed, but a smile tugged at my lips. “If I trip…”

“I’ll catch you.”

He offered his hand again. This time, I took it.

The music pulsed through the ballroom as Jason led me toward the edge of the dance floor. “I should warn you,” I admitted. “I dance like someone trying to remember where they left their limbs.”

“I’ll lower my expectations.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” He rested one hand lightly at my waist. “Just follow me.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

The beat dropped again. Jason started moving first, relaxed and natural, nodding to the rhythm as he encouraged me to follow. I tried. Hard. My shoulders moved, then my hips… and then nothing quite matched the music.

Jason burst out laughing. “You were serious.”

“I told you!” I groaned. “I’m not coordinated!”

“You look adorable.”

“Please never use that word again.”

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He chuckled and slowed down, matching my awkward little side steps instead of trying to show off. “Better?”

“…Much.”

A smile escaped me despite myself. Maybe dancing wasn’t so terrifying after all.

Then movement caught my eye behind Jason.

Maya.

She glided through the crowd with three of her friends, poured into a skin-tight black velvet corset dress that barely qualified as a costume. The short skirt swished around her thigh-high boots, and jeweled devil horns gleamed in her perfectly styled hair.

She spotted me and her painted lips curled into a smirk.

Of course.

She changed direction, dancing closer.

Jason noticed the shift in my expression. “Ignore her.”

“I was planning to.”

They kept coming. Closer. Until Maya’s shoulder slammed deliberately into mine and I stumbled back a half-

step.

“Oh,” she said with fake sweetness, looking me up and down. “Watch where you’re going… Marshmallow.”

A few nearby students turned to watch.

I straightened slowly. “You walked into me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You did.”

She folded her arms, voice loud enough to carry. “I guess it’s harder to judge distances when you’re taking up so much space.”

The words hit hard. Silence rippled through the people around us.

Jason stepped forward. “Maya”

A sharp screech of microphone feedback cut across the ballroom.

“Testing! Testing!”

Every head turned.

Tyler stood on the raised stage, mic in hand and a grin that promised trouble. “Ladies and gentlemen!”

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Chapter 152

He grinned wickedly.

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“I think it’s time our fearless captain… our star quarterback… our glorious student president of football-related bad decisions… gave us a dance!”

Laughter exploded across the ballroom.

Tyler thrust the microphone toward the crowd.

“What do you say?”

The room erupted.

“Zane! Zane! Zane!”

I turned.

Across the ballroom, Zane dragged a hand down his face, already looking done with everyone’s nonsense.

“Oh, shut up, Tyler.”

Tyler ignored him completely.

“DJ! You know the one!”

The DJ laughed as the opening beat thundered through the speakers.

Tyler was already dancing on the stage.

“Come on, Prez!”

Jaxon shoved Zane lightly from behind.

Lionel folded his arms with a grin.

“No backing out now.”

Girls crowded near the stage squealed.

“Come on, Zane!”

“We love you!”

“Dance!”

I found myself holding my breath.