Crazy For You

by Tory Baker

  4

  Michelle

  “Have a good vacation,” Laura says as I grab my bag, ready to leave. I thought I was going to come here, get the books taken care of, order supplies, and hit the road early. No such luck because my computer kept crashing when I placed my order. I’m not usually an angry person unless it comes to technology. It gets me every single time. I finally had to walk away. It sucked so much that I walked out of the salon and straight to the coffee shop around the corner in the airport. Today clearly isn’t my day. Falling asleep in the middle of the day, and now this? I had to step away before I burst into tears. After I got my chai tea latte, I was calmer. Taking the time to breathe in and out a few times centered me, not only that, but tonight is the night I get to see Devon, one on one, without prying eyes.

  “Thanks, I’m only a phone call away, but you know, if you don’t need me, that’s good too.” I smile and wink at Laura. She’s been with me the longest, and I trust her implicitly.

  “You’re welcome, and you know we’re good. Go on. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Her eyebrows are raised to her forehead, causing me to laugh again.

  “Laura, I’m not sure that’s saying much.” I open the door, ready to get outside and out of the air conditioner. I want to feel the sun and breeze against my skin as I drive home.

  “Well, you know,” Laura replies, and I wave over my shoulder and make my way out.

  I make it home in record time with my car windows down and the air conditioner turned off. It didn’t matter that I was sweating; there’s something about the smell during the summer, even in the desert, that calms my senses. I look at my phone and see I’m home much earlier than our intended date time. I shoot Devon a quick text, and then for the first time in ages, I go about getting ready, the full enchilada ready. I wash my hair, exfoliate, and shave everything. You never know what might happen. Plus, it’s Devon freaking Anderson. He’s sex on a stick and then some.

  My thoughts go back to a couple of months ago, when we had a huge family gathering. My parents, their siblings, my cousins, their children, everyone under the sun was there, plus some. It was a huge party where there was lots of fun to be had, but one memory sticks out the most, almost as if Jason was telling me to be careful after he had too many beers to count, but the gossip flew out of his mouth none the less. Jason told me way more than I should ever find out from a third-party person; my heart broke for Devon, and a piece of me felt like I was betraying him for even listening to my cousin. Even when I got up to leave him where he sat, he followed me around like a dog with a bone. That’s where part of me thinks he was trying to give me fair warning that Devon might have baggage attached to him. It was my own stupid fault for letting it slip out to my other cousin that I was cutting an almost celebrity’s hair, and she wouldn’t shut up until I told her who it was.

  I know that’s something I’ll have to let Devon know before this connection we have gets any deeper. I was raised to be an honest person. My parents showed me growing up how a strong relationship can flourish, and that’s what I want.

  My phone ringing has me pausing from putting on lotion.

  “Hello.” A smile shines through my tone when I see who’s calling.

  “Hey, honey. I got your text. I’m leaving work now, but if you’ll be ready around six, I’ll be there.” Devon’s tone sounds deep and husky.

  “I’ll be ready. Are you sure I don’t need to dress up?” I ask.

  “Positive, I’m not dressing up. It was bad enough I had to wear a suit and tie in Arizona. I’m not going to wear that on a date where we’re driving around and acting like a couple of tourists,” Devon says. Gosh, I can’t wait to see where this thing between us goes.

  “Perfect, I’ll see you soon,” I respond, knowing I need to get ready if I’m going to be on time.

  “I can’t wait.” With that, we both hang up. I know I texted him like he asked earlier, but instead of him texting me, he took the time to call me, making our conversation feel more meaningful.

  I go through my closet, not even ashamed at how color-coordinated I have it. I have so many different shades of black leggings, and all of them fit differently; it’s basically my work uniform, which has me pausing. Maybe I should switch it up a little bit since he’s used to seeing me in all black. I go through my leggings, landing on a pair that’s a green camouflage patterned. The design isn’t flamboyant and in your face, but subtle. I pair it with a black Nirvana shirt, grab a flannel in case I get cold, add a pair of sneakers to pull my look together, then tackle my hair.

  Sometimes, I get so irritated with it. It’s long, thick, and did I mention thick? I shouldn’t complain, but sometimes it’s all I can do to deal with it. I go through the task of blowing it dry, adding some volume, and then curling the ends into loose waves. At the last minute, I decide to throw my trucker hat on and call it a day.

  The rumble of a vehicle pulling into my driveaway lets me know Devon is here, so I grab my bag, rush out, and lock the door. I’m not big on traditions, and there’s nothing in my book that says a man has to meet me at the door every single time. Plus, I’m just plain excited to see Devon again, so with that, I’m practically running to him as he steps out of his truck.

  I leap into his arms, just as he braces himself, and give him everything I can. With my legs wrapped around his middle, I feel his hands grasp my ass, holding me in place, and when our eyes connect, I see the joy in his reflecting in mine.

  “Well, hello there.” He smiles at me, and I kid you not, my insides melt. My ovaries practically explode, and if we stay like this a minute longer, he’ll know exactly what he does to my body.

  “Hey.” I slowly slide my legs down, and Devon makes sure my feet are firmly planted on the ground before moving his hands to my hips. Our moment never stops; the sun is still beaming, the earth is still moving, but with the two of us in front of each other, it’s as if our worlds are one. Nothing more and nothing less. It’s just the two of us.

  “I love that look on your face right now.” His voice is gruff, making me melt closer to him.

  “It’s a good thing only you can put it there then.” I want so deeply to say the hell with our date, let’s stay in, yet I know we need this sense of normalcy.

  Devon helps me get situated in his truck, and then we back out of the driveway, and he heads to nowhere in particular. I could get used to these dates, that’s for sure.

  5

  Devon

  The way Michelle jumped into my arms, giving as freely as she did, I was shocked. Shit, I was shaken to my core by how willingly carefree she seemed to be. When we stopped at the taco stand, she didn’t even wait until I could open the door to help her out. She flew out from her side so fast I’m surprised she didn’t have whiplash.

  I guess my girl is hungry. She’s already standing at the line for the food truck while I catch up to her. I watch her smile the whole time, trying not to laugh at the way she goes balls to the walls with energy.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask when I stand beside her in the line, placing my hand on her hip.

  “I’m starving. I slept too long and only had a granola bar before I got to work. Plus, it’s tacos. Who doesn’t love tacos?”

  An idea forms in my head. On the days I know she has to do inventory, if she’s not going to take care of herself, I’ll help her take care of herself.

  “I love tacos.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, we giggle like two teenage kids. Each time we try to stop laughing, then look at one another, we start all over again.

  She’s wiping at her eyes, tears leaking from her laughter. We start to get it under control until I place our order. “Can we get two taco plates with cokes?” I look over at Michelle, my arm still firmly around her waist, not letting her go. She has her nose buried in the crook of my arm, laughing her tail off.

  “Thank you, have a great night,” the truck vendor says as we take our food, and only then do we disentangle ourselves.

  “I
know this isn’t fine dining, but we can eat while sitting on the tailgate of the truck. That okay?” I ask.

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” This time, she doesn’t leave my side or run off. She strolls beside me. I backed in so we could overlook the desert and watch the sunset in the distance.

  I bought this truck for the construction company, but I’ve never been so happy for its oversized tires and slight lift than I am now. Dropping the tailgate, I place our food to the side.

  When I turn around, my hands go to her hips, and I lift her up, her legs wrapping around my waist again. “I’d never drop you, Michelle,” I murmur into her ear. It does the opposite of what I thought it would do. She clenches her legs tighter around me. I sit her on the tailgate, her legs never leaving me.

  “I know,” she responds. I’m in a pair of lounge-type sweatpants, and she’s in those leggings she always wears while I’m standing in between her spread legs.

  “Fuck,” I hiss out, feeling the warmth between our layers. It kills me to step away, but for the first time in my life, I’m going to do what’s right, not what feels right in the moment.

  Michelle’s clenching legs tempt me to stay with her when I move to put some distance between us. “I hate like hell to back away, but honey, I want us to take our time, to build this up.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Plus, our food’s going to get cold.” She smirks, her legs loosen their hold, and I step away to grab her food and hand it to her before sitting beside her.

  We sit in comfortable silence as we eat, enjoying our food with the scenery as our backdrop. My eyes find Michelle; she’s the most dressed-down I have ever seen her, but I’m dressed much the same. She looks adorable in her oversized trucker’s hat, her hair to one side, showing off the curve of her neck, and if the temperature wasn’t dropping, I’d be begging to see more of her skin.

  “That was delicious. Thank you for dinner.” I see she’s eaten all of her food; Michelle could definitely hang with my family; she eats faster than Lincoln and me combined.

  I finish chewing my last bite before replying, “You’re welcome. It wasn’t much, but it sure beats waiting at a restaurant when you’re starving. You want to drive around some more, or will you turn into a pumpkin if I don’t have you home by midnight?”

  “Me?” She points to herself. “Turn into a pumpkin? No way. I may fall asleep on you, though, and I’m warning you, I flail around like a fish out of water when I’m sleeping.” Michelle’s cheeks blossom with color. I’m not sure if she wanted to admit that to me just yet, but I love that she did.

  “Got it, so basically, if we ever share a bed, I should be prepared to be shoved off of it at some point?” I ask jokingly.

  “Shoved, kicked, hit, punched. It’s why I don’t have the dog I want right now. I’m too scared he or she will want to sleep with me, and I’ll hurt it while I’m asleep.”

  “Nah, I think if someone were in bed with you and you felt safe, everything would be okay.” I hop off the tailgate, leaving her there with my parting words while I take care of the trash. When I come back, her head is cocked to the side, as if she’s mulling over what I said.

  “You really think so?”

  “Absolutely,” I respond, moving back between her legs. Grasping her hips, I allow Michelle to slide down the length of my body.

  “Well then, how do you feel about going to the animal shelter this weekend? Maybe just to look around.”

  “I think we can make that happen.” This time, I don’t let her open her passenger door; I do it for her.

  “Thank you for an amazing evening,” she tells me as she takes her seat.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” I say to her before we head out for the evening to take our drive around Vegas, not wanting our night to end in the least. My hand travels to hers on the center console, and we hold hands the whole time we drive around.

  6

  Michelle

  It wasn’t easy saying goodnight to Devon last night. I hated it, if I’m being honest, but he had to work today, and this is my first official day off. So, I did what most people would do—I slept in. I mean, I really slept in. I roll over and look at the numbers blazing on my alarm clock and see that it’s well past one o’clock in the afternoon.

  The sun is shining through the curtains, and I groan as I get out of bed. My hair is a rumpled mess from sleep, so I try to run my fingers through it. I fall back on the bed, a smile on my face, and I scream out my happiness. I mean, full-on scream, legs kicking, arms flailing in happiness. My lips are still tingling from the kiss he gave me last night, and his taste was toe-curling, leaving my heart beating out of my chest in the most amazing way. I swear I felt it consume my soul. It takes me a few minutes to compose myself. This time I get out bed and attempt to start my day of doing nothing. Well, except for the chai tea latte that is calling my name.

  My thoughts wander back to Devon and talking about if I had a dog in my life. He made me think it could happen, that is until I woke up this morning. The sheets are a tangled mess, my comforter is on the floor, and the pillows are strewn everywhere. I’m not so sure if Devon’s idea is good, after all.

  I walk through my house, my one goal in mind the kitchen. I kicked coffee years ago, after drinking so much of it, it landed me in the hospital. My heart was racing out of my chest. I couldn’t calm it down. When Laura saw me leaning up against the wall of the shop, she called my parents, and they rushed me to the hospital. I was having heart palpitations and had no idea drinking so much coffee every day was making it worse. My veins were so full of coffee they pretty much were filled with bean water.

  It scared the life out of not only myself but my parents as well. I promised I would quit coffee but bargained with drinking just one hot cup of tea a day. So, that’s what I’ve been doing, and now I only go to my cardiologist once a year to get a check-up just in case. Over the past two years, I’ve gotten the all-clear. I could even have more than the one cup I’ve allowed myself. I won’t get over the look in my father’s eyes, not to mention my mother; there’s no way I’ll do that again.

  I make my tea in no time. Bringing the mug to my mouth, I inhale the sweet aroma of cinnamon with the mix of vanilla. I take my first sip, my eyes close, and I enjoy the moment.

  A knock at my door has me almost dropping my mug and spilling it down my shirt. “Who the hell could that be?” I say to my kitchen, looking at all the vintage plates I have collected on the walls. None of them match, all of them picked out from flea markets and garage sales along the way.

  I’m about to answer the door when I look through the peephole and see it’s none other than Devon. My pajamas leave something to be desired. My sweats are years old and full of holes, as is the oversized shirt I’m wearing.

  “Fancy seeing you here.” I open the door, my mug of tea in one hand, my arm crossed over my breasts, hiding the fact that I’m braless.

  “Someone needs to make sure you eat today. After yesterday, I figured I’d make a special delivery.” Devon is wearing a suit, though he’s managed to lose his jacket, and the buttons on his dress shirt are undone.

  A smile overtakes my face. I motion him in, dropping my arm. I watch Devon’s eyes roam my body, and my nipples pebble beneath my shirt with his heated gaze. “Thank you. It smells delicious,” I tell him. He walks into the kitchen, places the food on the counter, and then he takes me in his arms to hug me. Devon’s lips lightly graze mine before he pulls back.

  “I’ll get these plated if you want?” he asks.

  “Yeah, make yourself at home. I’m going to get dressed, make myself more presentable.” I point at myself before scurrying past him, my cup of tea in my hand the whole time.

  I hear his chuckle as I shut my bedroom door, and finally remember to put my mug down. After throwing on a pair of denim shorts and a tank top, I brush my teeth. The one thing I can’t control is my hair, so I do what any girl with crazy bed head would do and throw it into a messy bun.

  By the
time I make it back to the kitchen, Devon has our soup out of the takeout bag and our sandwiches plated.

  “It seems I’m thanking you a lot lately for feeding me. I’ll have to return the favor and soon. What are you up to today?”

  “Anytime you want to cook, let me know. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in months with my parents in Florida at Lincoln and Presley’s house. I rarely cook for myself, which I suck at, by the way. So, yeah, I’ll take you up on breakfast, lunch, or dinner.” He saunters toward me; there’s no other way to put it. His gait is smooth, and when he moves, it’s as if he’s walking on water.

  “I’ll definitely do that for you then. Everyone should have a home-cooked meal, but fair warning, if my mom catches wind of you, she’ll be over before you know it, trying to fatten both of us up.” We’re now facing one another.

  “I’m okay with that,” he says, and that’s when I know I have to tell him what Justin said.

  “I have to tell you something, and you may hate me for it. Heck, you may even walk out my front door to never return.” I take my hair out of its bun, attempting to use it for my nervousness that’s settled in. I look at Devon’s face, and it’s cold as stone. Maybe this really will be the tipping point.

  7

  Devon

  Fuck, I’m almost worried this is too good to be true. There’s no way she could be like Stacey; I’d know if she was. I learned my lesson, right? I stand stoically in front of her, waiting for her to rip my heart to shreds. Yes, my heart. Michelle and I built a friendship before we took the plunge into dating, so my whole damn heart is in the palm of her hands.