The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback (Astra and Zayne) novel Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Astra point of view

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“I’m so sorry about that,” Elira said, her voice soft but heavy with regret, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

I looked away from the stairway Zane had just stormed up, the echo of his footsteps still ringing in my ears. My scalp throbbed where his fingers had twisted into my hair like he wanted to rip it out by the roots. I turned back to Elira and forced my face into something neutral.

On the tip of my tongue sat the truth: I know exactly what’s wrong with him. He’s a narcissistic psychopath who needs to be locked in a psych ward. But I swallowed it down.

I wasn’t going to let Zane Ashton cost me this job. Not after everything. This was too important, my mom’s hospital bills, a roof over my head, a chance to breathe. And it wasn’t Elira’s fault her son was a monster. Well… maybe a little. Spoiled rich kids don’t become like that in a vacuum. But he was grown enough to act like a decent human being.

I rubbed my hand over the sore spot on my scalp, wincing. It hurt like hell, but I’d felt worse. Zane and his friends had done far more painful things over the years–shoves into lockers, public humiliation, the occasional “accidental” ball to the face during gym.

Hair–pulling was almost… predictable. Sad, really. I’d gotten so used to being bullied that this barely registered as new.

The worst part wasn’t the pain. It was how normal it felt.

A sharp beep from the microwave pulled me back. I turned quickly, opened the door, and pulled out the plate. The smell hit me–warm and delicious. My stomach growled loud enough to echo in the quiet kitchen.

I should’ve lost my appetite after what just happened. Logic said I should be shaking, crying, running upstairs to lock myself in. But food was my therapy. Always had been. And yeah, maybe my body size was part of why Zane and his friends targeted me, but stress–eating was the least of my problems. I barely ate twice a day since Mom’s illness got worse. I’d lost a couple of pounds. from pure survival mode, but apparently “plump” was just my genetics‘ default setting–no matter how much life tried to starve me out,

Elira watched me for a moment, then asked quietly, “Do you and Zane have history together?”

I nearly choked on my own saliva,

My head snapped toward her. “What?”

Her brow arched, calm but curious.

I shook my head frantically, hair flying into my face, “No–no, I assure you, nothing like that. He

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Chapter 5.

jus….….. doesn’t like me. We’re not friends. He doesn’t want me working here.”

She sighed and dragged a hand down her face. “I don’t know, but I didn’t like what I saw.”

Panic clawed up my throat again. I couldn’t lose this job.

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“Please, ma’am,” I said quickly, “I promise you, we have no history.” Then, in full panic mode, I blurted, “I’m not even his type. Look at me. There’s no way in hell.”

Elira studied me, her gaze traveling over my damp hair, my oversized T–shirt, my full curves, my thick thighs. Then she shook her head slowly.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” she said. “I don’t like the way he put his hands on you like he didn’t care you’re a woman. Zane would never hit a woman, so this…. this came as a surprise.”

I almost let out a bitter laugh. Zane had never punched me, sure. But he’d put his hands on me before. Shoves. Shoulder checks. Once he “accidentally” knocked my books out of my arms so hard I bruised my wrist. But he’d never hit me outright. I didn’t correct her.

“But what do you mean by ‘not his type‘?” she asked, tilting her head like she genuinely didn’t see the difference between me and the girls Zane dated.

I swallowed. “Um… he dates slimmer girls. Dark–haired. Tall. The cheerleader kind. And… well, I’m not exactly slim. And I’m blonde.”

Elira stared at me for a long moment, then gave a small, almost amused smile.

“I see that,” she said. “And you’re very pretty, Astra. But now I see why Zane always dates girls with

dark hair.”

I frowned, confused. “What?”

A strange chill crept down my spine.

Like she knew something I didn’t.

She waved a hand like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “Nothing. Forget I said that.”

She stepped closer, voice softening again. “I’m truly sorry about what happened tonight. I’ll talk to Zane. He won’t touch you again.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, throat tight,

She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, then turned and walked out of the kitchen, heels clicking softly on the marble until the sound faded,

I stood there alone, my heart still racing.

Then I sighed, turned back to the plate, and wolfed it down in record time, I barely tasted it, but

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Chapter 5-

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