Crazy Beautiful (Crazy Beautiful #1)

by Jessica Huizenga

  I can tell there is a story here and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious as hell to find out what makes this girl tick. “True, but I never said I don’t believe in love. The way it is portrayed in this movie, yes. But in general? I think it exists.”

  She looks confused, like I just shattered everything she thought she knew about me. Before she gets the wrong idea, I clarify. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not for me.” She visibly relaxes. “But I’ve witnessed it. My old man loved my mom more than anything, so I know that shit is real.”

  “Then why isn’t it for you?” She asks slowly, as if struggling with whether or not she wants to know.

  I take a deep breath. I’m not sure at what point we’re crossing a line of appropriate conversation, but for the first time I feel like I can trust a girl enough to understand. She clearly has her own issues when it comes to relationships, so maybe, just maybe, she might relate to mine.

  “My mom died when I was thirteen. Cancer. She got really sick and I watched the hell both she and my dad went through. My dad is strong, though. He got through it and still manages to stay optimistic about life but I know it tore him up. One of the last things my mom said to me was that she hoped I would someday find someone to love as much as she loves me and my dad. But when she died I told myself I never wanted to have to go through that pain. It must have stuck.”

  Kinsley turns to sit cross-legged on the couch next to me. She pulls a pillow into her lap like a shield and hugs it gently. “At the party you said you thought you were in love once.”

  It’s more an acknowledgement than a question, but I’ll take the bait.

  “A few years back I dated this girl for a while. Chelsea. Things got pretty serious but I just wasn’t ready for a commitment. I realized if I could be with someone for five years and still have no desire to be with her forever, my love gene must be fucked. That’s why I really hope my mom can’t see me now. If she can, she must be pretty pissed I’m incapable of doing the one thing she hoped for.”

  I shrug coolly, trying not to show that I feel ashamed. Ashamed that I couldn’t give Chelsea—or my mom—what she wanted, and ashamed that I often act like an asshole to hide it. Truth is I want to love someone and have them love me back. I want what my parents had, but I know it will only bring pain and heartache so I pretend I don’t care. It’s easier that way.

  “Chelsea and I are still friends, but I feel bad I wasn’t able to give her more. Maybe someday things will be different, but for now this is who I am.”

  I decide not to add that I already feel closer to Kinsley than I ever did with Chelsea. I don’t even understand that one, so I’m sure as hell not going to confuse her with it. We agreed this is strictly a friends with benefits arrangement, which is best for everyone involved.

  But, benefits aside, I genuinely like having Kinsley as a friend.

  She looks lost in her own thoughts. Just when I think she’s going to open up about her own past, she tosses her pillow at me. “Look on the bright side—at least you don’t have to worry about any of that with us, right?”

  She stands up, heading toward the kitchen. Apparently sharing time is over. “Yeah,” I call after her, gripping the pillow. “Good thing.”

  All of a sudden I’m overcome with a sense of empathy for Chelsea. I suddenly know how she must feel to have me keep her close, yet shut her out.

  Yes, it’s a good thing I don’t have to worry about Kinsley and I being the same.

  Good fucking thing . . .

  Kinsley

  The next couple of weeks fly by as I keep busy with lots of orders. I’ve been saying yes to just about anything that comes my way. Anniversary bouquets? Of course. Corporate parties? Sure! Funeral arrangements? Yeah . . . I do that now, too.

  I keep telling myself it’s only for the money—and the love of it—and it has nothing to do with trying to avoid thinking even more about a certain someone than I already do.

  Ever since our movie night, Lucas and I have avoided serious conversation topics, which is for the best. When he opened up and told me about his mom and his past, I could have sat there all night and listened to him share every last detail of how he got to be the man he is now. I could tell he doesn’t let many people in on the more intimate aspects of his life, and I feel really special he trusted me. I came close to spilling my own story, but after I heard him talk about Chelsea, something in me shut down again. For some unexplainable reason, I hate that he thinks he’s broken. Even if I don’t believe in love, I can tell he still does. The fact he believes in it but thinks he’s incapable of having it makes me feel very sad for him. It also kills me that he feels like he’s disappointing his mom. I can tell by the way he talks about his parents that they had something very special, and even if it’s in sharp contrast to my own screwed up familial experience, I can’t stand the thought of him somehow ending up like me. I can’t let him self-destruct by pushing people away. I’ve already lost everyone so it’s too late for me, but he hasn’t. He still has a father who would do anything for him and a woman who’s loyal.

  Speaking of, I’m sure if there is any friend who could help fix him it would be Chelsea, a girl who apparently still stands by him even after he ended their relationship. I’m just a fun stop along Lucas’ track to finding love . . . a convenient, peripheral distraction to help pass the time.

  If I was smart I would end things now so he could get out there and find something real, but the selfish part of me isn’t ready to let him go. I’ve convinced myself that maybe I’m helping him forget his past just as much as he’s tried to help me forget mine. After he left that night, I decided if there is one thing I can do for Lucas, if I care about him at all as a friend, it’s to help him realize he’s doesn’t have to be defined by his past. He can change, if he wants to. He doesn’t have to be like me, so closed off from love. I know my life isn’t meant to be shared with someone else, but he showed me that he still has hope, which I admire. And I’ll be damned if I let him lose that.

  Lucas has also been busy at work these past two weeks, but we’ve been texting during the day and hanging out most nights when he stops by the cottage. Snippets from our text conversations look a little something like this:

  LUCAS: What are you wearing?

  ME: Nothing at all. I just hang around my place naked all day. Perks of being my own boss and all.

  LUCAS: Seriously? That’s just not fair . . . I don’t think Logan would like it if I started showing up to work buck ass naked. Pics, please?

  ME: Nice try. You want it, you gotta come get it. ;)

  LUCAS: Be there in ten.

  LUCAS: Make it five.

  ME: The window is stuck again. Do you have the number of the guy your dad had fix it?

  LUCAS: No, but I can find out. Or you can just try to find a video on YouTube to fix it yourself. ;)

  ME: You think you’re clever?

  LUCAS: Hell yeah—I’m fucking funny!

  ME: Well maybe I can find some other handsome man that will come to my rescue while you’re busy laughing.

  LUCAS: Like hell you will. I’ll grab some pizza and be there around 8. I’ll fix the window. Don’t even think about calling anyone else. Promise?

  ME: OK fine, I promise.

  LUCAS: Good morning

  ME: Morning :)

  LUCAS: What are you up to today?

  ME: Working, as usual. I have a lunch meeting with a potential new client and then I’m delivering some flowers to the Windsor Hotel around 3.

  ME: And you, Mr. Big Important Investor Man?

  LUCAS: I’ve got back to back meetings until 6, so I won’t have my phone on me.

  ME: OK. I’ll be sure not to bother you then.

  LUCAS: You never bother me, babe. I want to see you though. Can I take you to dinner tonight?

  ME: Sure—it’s a date.

  LUCAS: I was hoping it would be ;) I’ll pick you up at 7.

  Wait . . . what does he mean by that last part? He’s hoping it will b
e a date—like a date date? Did I even mean it to be that kind of date?

  Or maybe he’s just glad to have his friend agree to a casual dinner after a long day.

  Ugh. Maybe this whole friend-helping-a-friend thing will be harder than I thought . . .

  I get back from dropping off the flowers at the hotel a little after four, and since it is right near Kelley’s office I decide to stop in and say hi. I haven’t really seen or talked to her since the infamous movie night—I’ve just been so busy with work and Lucas.

  I enter the Burton Realty office and nod to Gemma, the eager, young receptionist. “Hey Kinsley! How’ve you been? Congrats again on your new place. I saw the pictures and it looks gorgeous!”

  “Thanks, Gemma. I’m pretty excited about it. Is Kelley here?”

  “Yup, she should be in her office. Feel free to head on back.”

  I thank her before heading back to the third office on the right.

  “Knock, knock . . .”

  “That can’t be my best friend, could it? I’ve just about forgotten what she looks like.” Kelley tries to hold back a grin, so I know she’s not too mad at me.

  “Yeah, I deserve that.” I plop down into the chair in front of her desk. “It’s been a crazy couple of weeks.”

  “I know, I’m just messing with you. It’s hard being such an in-demand lady boss. I feel lucky you’ve taken the time to come visit.”

  “Oh please, you know I love you. I just finished dropping off an order and now I have some time to kill. What better way to spend this lovely Friday afternoon than to distract you from work.”

  I try to act casual, but Kelley immediately picks up on my implied admission. “Time to kill? Is something going on tonight?”

  Time to come clean, I guess. I feel bad I haven’t told Kelley about me and Lucas, but I think part of me is scared of how she’ll react. I know her view on love and relationships, so I don’t want to disappoint her. I could really use her perspective on this whole situation now, though, because I’m not sure what’s happening.

  “Um, Lucas is taking me out to dinner.” As soon as I say Lucas’ name I see Kelley’s grin widen and she gets that Told you so look on her face. “Just as friends . . .” I quickly follow up with. “I think . . .”

  “You two are still sticking with this whole friends story, huh?”

  “Well, it is true. Mostly. We hang out and talk and watch movies and stuff. It’s just . . . well . . .” I blush just thinking about screwing Lucas on some random person’s desk. “Let’s just say I do some things with Lucas that I never do with any of my other friends.”

  “I knew it. You guys totally had sex, didn’t you?” Kelley leans forward and rests her chin in her hands, as if she can’t wait to hear this.

  I look up to the ceiling, avoiding eye contact, and blow out a deep breath. I finally muster up the courage to look at Kelley and shrug innocently. “Maybe?”

  “Maybe my ass! I felt something weird going on the night we watched the movie, but as soon as I first saw you two together at that party I knew something was up. Wait! Is that when you did it?!” I feel myself blush again, which is all the confirmation Kelley needs. She picks up her phone and dials a few numbers. “Hey Gemma, hold my calls. I have an important meeting going on right now.” She puts down the phone and points directly at me. “Spill.”

  I fill Kelley in on the past month, starting at the beginning when I first met Lucas at the cottage. I decide to leave out the part about noticing him at the wedding. I know that will just turn into some sort of musing on fate, which I don’t hold much stock in.

  Kelley sits quietly most of the time, nodding and smirking every once in a while. I finally get to the end, up until our plans for tonight.

  “I don’t know, Kells. The whole situation is confusing now. I like being around him, but just as friends. I thought I had things under control, which is why I didn’t want to say anything, but now I’m not so sure.”

  Kelley relaxes back in her chair. “Honestly, babe, I think you need to just have a talk with him. Better get it all out on the table—or desk I should say.” She winks, which makes me laugh.

  “I thought we did talk. I made it very clear we are strictly non-serious friends with benefits. But sometimes I feel like that’s not always the case.”

  “Seriously, Kins, it sounds like right now you have the best of two worlds. You have a hot guy to fool around with, as well as a friend to just hang out and eat pizza with. No complications, no attachments. And if that’s what you’re cool with, then far be it from me to tell you how to label it.” I start to feel a bit more confident, as if maybe this little arrangement is fine as it is, but then Kelley leans forward again. “But can I ask you one thing?”

  I should have known I wouldn’t get away so easily. “Shoot.”

  “Are you guys still seeing other people?”

  I chew my bottom lip for a second. I know I certainly haven’t been. Not that any other guys are beating down my door, exactly, but to be honest, I really haven’t even thought about wanting to see anyone else since meeting Lucas. I realize we never talked about being exclusive or anything, so who knows how many other “friends” he has? If the night of the party is any indication, he could very well have more.

  The thought makes me feel instantly nauseous. “I know I’m not . . .”

  “I’d suggest you clarify that fact on his end, too. Because the answer might mean the difference between a casual, convenient hookup and something more.” Her eyes soften as she reaches out to squeeze my hand. “For what it’s worth, though, I think you deserve to have someone take care of you in your life. Someone you trust and someone you can count on. You know I’m always here for you without question, but someday you’re going to have to let someone else into your heart, Kins. You haven’t had the best luck with the men in your life, but I promise you not all guys are complete jerks. I know you don’t think I’m the expert here, but you do deserve to be happy.”

  I squeeze her hand back, trying to keep myself composed. Kelley believes in holding out for Mr. Right, but up until now I never thought he existed. The part that scares me the most is that I can see Lucas being that person I finally let in, even a little bit. I can’t expect to help him if I don’t. How can he realize he deserves love if I won’t trust him enough to open up? If that’s the compromise I have to make to help him find happiness, then that’s what I have to do.

  I just wonder at what point we will be crossing a line we can’t come back from.

  Kelley gives my hand one last squeeze, pulling me out of my own deep thoughts. “Now, about this date . . . I say you better go get ready and put on something to make Lucas lose his mind. At the very least you know there’s a good shot you’ll get lucky tonight.”

  Lucas

  I pick Kinsley up at seven and lead her to my car before driving us to Pedro’s, my favorite local Mexican restaurant. It’s not overly fancy, but the food is awesome and the vibe is casual. It’s also a special place for me and a part of me wanted to take her here for that reason. When Kinsley opened her door and I saw how amazingly beautiful she looks tonight, I almost lost my shit. I had to keep my damn hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching out and dragging her to her bedroom.

  Her brown hair is pulled to the side in a loose braid, and she is wearing a pretty floral print dress, belted at her perfect waist, with an oversized cream sweater. She also has on these black stockings and when she got into the car I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of a garter holding them up.

  She’s so goddamned playful and cool that I feel like I must be insane (and a major lame-ass) for even hoping she meant calling our outing tonight a date in a more-than-just-friends kind of way. Ever since our more personal talk a couple of weeks ago, I think about her even more. If that’s fucking possible. It felt . . . freeing, opening up to her, and I maybe want to see if there is anything beyond our casual friendship.

  The drive to the restaurant is quiet. We’re both lost in our own
thoughts, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. I pull into the lot and we get out of the car to head for the door. “Hope you like Mexican.”

  Kinsley looks up at me and smiles. “It’s my favorite.” I hold the door open for her—yes, I am a gentleman—and we get a table for two.

  I never really considered Pedro’s to be romantic, but now, as I look at Kinsley sitting across from me, eagerly scanning the menu in this dimly lit place, her face illuminated by the single candle sitting on our table, I’m starting to wonder if this place really is perfect for a date. Hell, real date or not, I’m just glad to be here with her. For the past two weeks we’ve mostly been hanging out at the cottage when I get off from work, and while it’s been fun, I feel like there is always some big giant fucking elephant in the room. It’s been easy—almost too easy—and I’ve been waiting for shit to hit the fan. I’m not sure how Kinsley feels about us anymore, but all I know is she is the first thing on my mind each morning, and the last thing at night. We can flirt, joke, talk, fuck . . . all of which is great, by the way, but I don’t know what she’s really thinking. Hell, I barely know what I’m thinking, other than I can’t stop thinking about the woman sitting in front of me.

  You’re in deep, dude.

  Yeah, I know.

  “So, what looks good?” Kinsley is still looking at the menu.

  “You.” I have to remember we’re still keeping things casual, which means sticking to carefree flirting.

  She looks up from her menu, eyes wide and wicked. “Too bad that’s not on the menu.” I start to argue that point before she leans in. “Maybe for dessert, though . . . if you’re good that is” She winks and goes back to perusing the menu.

  “Babe, you know I’m always good.” I don’t even try to hide the way I lick my lips and devour her from her eyes to her chest. Who am I kidding? I fucking AM ready.

  Good thing the waiter chooses this moment to come take our orders, because all the images that just flashed in my head of what I could do to this girl on this table would probably rack up every single health code violation possible.