A Little Bit Crazy

by B. Cranford

  You look beautiful today. He probably got that line from Sebastian—it was, after all, his favorite thing to tell Brighton.

  The snide thought about his unoriginality waned, leaving her to think again what he might, probably, most likely had been about to say.

  You look beautiful today, Freckles.

  It was a whisper from the voice in her mind; the first time in days that those which haunted her were welcomed. Her body warmed at the idea of him calling her beautiful. Of him calling her Freckles, laced with affection.

  “What were you going to say?” Declan still stood by his desk, separated from her by half a room and a year’s worth—a lifetime’s worth—of baggage and, though his question was quiet, it managed to interrupt her line of thinking.

  “Oh, err. . . Just that I should probably leave, since you’re feeling better.” She tried for a smile, but feared it came out as a grimace. Something weird was happening to her and she didn’t know what it was. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  You.

  Declan’s mind, clearer today than it had been when Jade had shown up yesterday, supplied the answer he knew he couldn’t give. So, instead of admitting that he wanted her to stay, and risking her mockery or, worse still, indifference, he merely shook his head. “No, but thanks.”

  “No problem. I mean, I was nearby by so it’s not a big deal to come here.”

  Her words were uneven, her body fidgety. The office of Figures Accounting was, he well knew, about thirty minutes’ drive from his apartment, meaning for her to be in the area, she’d have to have been running some errands. On a Saturday, which he knew she didn’t typically work.

  Or it could be she was lying, and had been looking for an excuse to cover the fact she straight-up wanted to see him.

  Yeah, he liked that second one better.

  “Still, I appreciate it.” He mentally eye-rolled at his own formality. It was like he’d forgotten how to talk to her, as though the lack of fire in their words made it impossible for him to act like the well-spoken man he actually was.

  Usually was.

  “Don’t get used to it. You get a reprieve because you’re sick, but just because I’m here doesn’t mean we’re suddenly best buddies or anything.”

  “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself, Freckles?”

  She didn’t reply, except to roll her eyes and turn for the door. Desperate to delay her leaving, he called after her. “Wait, ah, your container.” Smooth. “I washed it this morning.”

  She nodded. He walked to the kitchen. She stood still. He grabbed the Tupperware. She took a step back as he approached. He tried to get as close as possible.

  It was like they were locked in a stand-off and there could only be one victor.

  And if that was the case, Declan decided it was going to be him.

  “What are you doing this weekend? Tonight?” It was a reasonable question. After all, it had just been the previous weekend that he’d found her sitting on the gutter on Club Row, so he didn’t know if partying with her friends was a regular thing.

  “Recovering. I’m still kind of worn out.” Jade looked up at him where he stood in front of her, his height meaning she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “You got over it faster than I did.”

  He smiled down at her, watching her eyes roam across his face as if she were looking for answers. “I’m pretending, in case you let me kiss you.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because we both know you want me to.”

  “No, I don’t.” She held his gaze, and though he could swear he saw a flicker of desire, of want, in her eyes, he took a step back.

  And another. And another. And another. Until several feet stood between them, and he was no longer towering over her. “I understand.”

  The look she gave him was inscrutable, a mixture between wonder that he’d backed off and wonder than he hadn’t forged ahead.

  But he wouldn’t. She said no, and as far as Declan was concerned, that was it. No forging ahead. No kissing.

  “Get some rest, Jackass. The sickness is making you soft.”

  “Actually, it’s you making me hard.”

  “Oh, please. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “All what girls? There’s you and . . .” He trailed off, realizing he was mere moments away from admitting something he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know. That it was her, and only her. That since that day in her office—before then, since the day he first asked her out—he hadn’t been with anyone else, because he hadn’t wanted to.

  He wanted her

  No one else.

  Yet still she said she didn’t want him in return.

  And maybe it was time to heed that.

  “And?” she asked, her voice so low he could barely hear. The worry on her face, like he was about to tell her something that would change everything, troubled him.

  He didn’t let it stop him. In an instant, he decided that it was time to lay it out, once and for all. “No one. It’s you. All I want. You.” He knew he was speaking in circles, repeating himself, but couldn’t seem to stop it. Everything about this little pink-haired spitfire confused him.

  He’d never wanted anyone like he wanted her. And the taste he’d had . . . it wasn’t enough.

  “Declan, I—”

  “One night,” he interrupted whatever rejection she was about to give him, not prepared to walk away without one last attempt. “Give me one night. Please.”

  She was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. His heart pounded in his chest, watching as the only woman who’d ever made his body react like it belonged to her closed herself down.

  Again.

  “I know you. I know your kind, all too well. I’m not anything to you, no matter what stupid illusion you seem to be under. You might give me one night, and then I’ll be forgotten. Again.” Her words held an intensity that spoke of past experience and Declan wanted to lash out. “The last thing I need is a beautiful man pretending it’s me he wants, then deciding I’m a fucking burden.”

  He reeled at the anger as she called herself a burden. “Freckles, come on.”

  Jade took advantage of his pause to yell—yell—at him. “Do not call me Freckles. You have no right.”

  “What the hell is going on? I want to spend time with you, that’s all. I want to make up for last year. I want to see what this is between us, because you’re not stupid, Jade. You know as well as I do that there’s something here. Why the hell else do you react like this to me?”

  “Because you make me so fucking angry I can’t function. Every time you come around, or call, or look after me and act like a nice guy, I’m moments away from falling for it.”

  It was Declan’s turn to yell, his voice brittle from adrenaline and the remnants of the flu that had kept him down for two days straight. “I’m not acting! I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I am actually a nice guy.”

  “Humble, too.”

  “Oh, come on. I can’t defend myself? You stand there judging me based on what? One mistake over a year ago? Doesn’t matter that I’ve apologized. That I’ve been there day in and day out for months, trying to make you see that I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. And, to be fucking honest, Freckles—” He spat the name out at her, his ire growing with each and every word that fell from his mouth. “I don’t even know why anymore. I’m not getting anywhere.”

  “You mean not getting some.”

  “Putting words in my mouth again. Jesus fuck.” He turned away, his broad shoulders tensed, his body flooded with aggression. He’d never take it out on her physically, but he had to mentally rein himself in, because he knew yelling at her wasn’t the answer. He was just . . .

  Tired.

  Swiping a hand down his face, he sighed, knowing that they weren’t getting anywhere. That he couldn’t reason with her when she was being so unreasonable.

  So Jade, his mind provided.

  “Just go.” He loo
ked briefly over his shoulder, more to make sure that his words were heard than to see her reaction to them. But the sight of her standing in his living room, Tupperware container shaking in her grasp, proving that she was as invested in this argument as he was, shook him.

  She looked on the verge of tears and Declan felt like a grade-A asshole. “Shit, fuck. Seems like I’m always apologiz—”

  “Chris was my ex.” She interrupted him, her voice small but strong. He stopped trying to apologize—again—for yelling at her and turned to face her. Whatever she was about to say, he could tell it was important.

  He would listen.

  And maybe finally get some answers.

  Jade took in a fortifying breath, determined to tell him why his actions, his choices made her so bitter. She’d never wanted to be this girl, this harpy who kept on about a topic that should have been buried and forgotten long ago, and yet—

  She couldn’t forget.

  Her brain wouldn’t let her.

  Her demons wouldn’t let her.

  But she needed to do something to break the cycle. And maybe that something was sharing with Declan the pain, frustration, humiliation she’d felt when Chris had walked away.

  “We broke up, because of work. Because work was more important than me. Because I was, and I quote, ‘Too needy, taking up too much time.’ Do you know how it feels, to be left behind like that? After nearly three years together, Chris boiled me down to a needy inconvenience, a mess, a time-suck. Someone whose worth didn’t match that of the job.”

  She sucked in a breath, laying bare more of her demons, wondering if Declan was strong enough to bear them.

  She was scared to think of how much she wanted the answer to be yes. Which was probably why she kept talking—testing him to see if he could handle it.

  “Before that, when I was six, my father left. Just left. Me and my mom and my sisters. He got a flashy job that would take him overseas, around the world, but that required a move to their headquarters in New York.” Jade took a moment to collect herself, the memory of the final fight between her parents, the sounds of yelling and doors slamming and things being ripped from drawers and clothes hangers, still fresh in her mind. “Mom was furious. It paid less and New York was so expensive. She couldn’t work out why he would take the job if it meant more financial stress. And do you know what he told her?”

  Declan shook his head, his eyes trained on her, telling her to continue. So, she did. “He said it was more than enough for one person to live on in the city. He never planned to take us with him. He knew when he accepted the job that we wouldn’t be able to come along. And he didn’t care.”

  Jade watched as Declan’s eyes slid closed and his head fell back. As he pushed a long, hard breath toward the ceiling and raised his hands to that already messy blond hair.

  She watched as he opened his eyes and moved closer and closer still, until he was standing as close as possible once again. The warmth of his body heating her from within, the tiredness around his eyes telling of his recent bout of flu, he dropped his hands from his head. “Freckles,” he whispered, affection and anguish evident in his tone. “Freckles, please. One night. I’ll prove that I’m not like Chris or your asshole father.” He placed one hand reverently on her cheek, his thumb brushing gently back and forth, back and forth, hypnotizing her. Leaning in, so his mouth was right by her ear and a shiver shot through Jade like a lightning bolt, he continued, “Give me one night. One whole night, and if you still don’t believe me by the end of it, I’ll stop. I promise.”

  She didn’t realize she was nodding until a smile broke across his face, the heavy moment passing suddenly, easily. He spoke lightly, something like relief in his voice. “You won’t regret it.”

  She snickered, trying to push away the last of her anger. “I probably will.”

  Brighton: Just checking in! How was the soup? Did he like it?

  Jade: He did, you were right.

  Brighton: I knew he would. He always says it makes him feel so much better.

  Brighton: How are my babies doing?

  Jade: Assuming you mean the cat and dog, and not Declan and me, then good.

  Brighton: Why, are Declan and you not good?

  Brighton: Or . . . wait. Not not good. Worse than usual?

  Jade: I’m not sure I followed you wherever that text took you, but I’m fine. He’s fine. Your pets are . . .

  Brighton: Lemme guess, fine?

  Jade: Got it in one.

  Brighton: Why do you give him such a hard time?

  Jade: Assuming we’re back to Declan, then my answer is simple: Because he deserves it.

  Brighton: He’s a good guy, Jay. I promise you that.

  Brighton: Better than good.

  Jade: Fine?

  Brighton: Well, yes. If you mean in that, damn boy, you fine kinda way.

  Jade: Hey, guess who came into our bar the other night?

  Brighton: I’m allowing the subject change only because I’m curious.

  Jade: The old bartender. He smiled warily at me and looked around.

  Jade: I’m sure he was wondering where you were.

  Brighton: Did you talk to him?

  Jade: I smiled, which is probably what he prefers, TBH.

  Brighton: I’m still 100% sure you’re the reason he quit. OMG, do you remember the first time you threatened his tip?

  Jade: Um, yeah. You’d just announced to the entire room that we were going to end up fucking like rabbits.

  Brighton: Untrue. I was just confirming what we both already knew about me and Seb. It’s not my fault he only caught the tail end of that particular conversation.

  Jade: Fine, but that’s clearly what he thought was getting ready to happen. And if I hadn’t ever-so-politely suggested that he keep his mouth shut or lose his tip, I’m sure he would’ve had a field day with it.

  Brighton: Good point. How many times did you ever-so-politely threaten his tip anyway?

  Jade: Only when he deserved it.

  Jade: Which typically amounted to once each time we were there, but still . . .

  Brighton: Did I ever tell you how glad I am that you decided we should be friends?

  Jade: Me too, Bright.

  Jade sighed down at her phone, wondering if she should have taken the opportunity to talk to Brighton about her impending date with Declan.

  Date with Declan. She could hardly believe that she’d agreed to it, considering how resistant she’d been to the idea since, well, the first time she’d agreed to it. If she was honest with herself, there was a part of her that was excited for their one night. Though she figured she’d go out, eat a free meal—because fuck feminism, the man stood her up, he can pay for her dinner—and then walk away having fulfilled her end of the agreement, the thought of being on the receiving end of Declan’s words, smile, jokes and good looks was . . . exciting.

  Yeah, she was excited. But she wasn’t planning on letting him know that. Nor was she going to spill the beans about it to Brighton, who she was sure would read way too much into it. That girl had love in her heart and stars in her eyes and was one impromptu song and dance away from becoming Disney’s newest princess.

  She even had the animals following her around, Lowe and Storm being the faithful little people they were. Well, Lowe anyway.

  Laughing to herself at the direction of her thoughts, Jade slid her phone into her purse and surveyed her desk. The office was quiet with Sebastian still on tour with Brighton, so she decided to take inventory in the supply closet.

  Yes, that supply closet. Admittedly, she’d tried to avoid it in the months since her little slipup with Declan. And by little, of course, she meant huge. But the way Peter and Sebastian went through folders and staples and pens meant that she was forced to revisit the scene of her crime on a semi-regular basis.

  Stupid staples.

  Walking into the small, enclosed, dark closet, Jade reached for the light switch and in illuminating the room, illuminated her memories also.


  Straining bodies. Dirty words. Panties around ankles and a tongue working magic on her needy body.

  “Yes, fuck yes,” she called as he speared his tongue inside her, causing him to stop. “No, no, noooo, why the hell are you stopping?” She heard shuffling behind her, and knew he’d moved to stand. She spun around to face him. “I did not give you permission to stop, Jackass.”

  He chuckled darkly. “Not stopping, Freckles. Just changing things up a little.”

  Jade groaned and pressed her legs together. Her black skirt, tight though it was, wasn’t enough to keep her from needing to clench her thighs at the visual of Declan on his knees, Declan in next to nothing, Declan taking her against the shelves.

  Shit, this was a bad idea.

  Any amount of time spent in the supply closet left her wishing for something that she couldn’t—okay, wouldn’t—name, and with the prospect of an hour or so in there with the ghost of past Jade being a wanton hussy made her seriously reconsider if staples and folders were really that important.

  Surely not.

  Freckles: Hey, Florence.

  Declan: Florence?

  Freckles: As in Nightingale?

  Freckles: Nursing Pioneer. Badass woman.

  Declan: I’ve been called worse.

  Freckles: I don’t doubt that . . . Jackass.

  Declan: Any purpose to this message, or are you just looking to torment me?

  Freckles: I guess I’m just making sure you haven’t forgotten me.

  Freckles: Or our date.

  Freckles: Unless you want to back out. Because I’m fine with that.

  Declan: Not happening.

  Freckles: The date?

  Declan: The backing out. Not. Happening.

  Freckles: Ooh, overly punctuated sentences. Is someone a little sensitive?

  Declan: I’ll show you sensitive.

  Freckles: Um, what does that even mean?

  Declan: Do you really want to know?

  Freckles: Yes. I think.

  Freckles: On second thought, maybe not.