Love Like Crazy

by Megan Squires

  He would make everything all better. I was sure of it.

  TEN

  “So this is the infamous furball?”

  Sam folded her legs up underneath her and flopped down onto the porch stoop, right next to the faded welcome mat which never felt particularly welcoming at all. She swatted Saturday morning’s newspaper out of the way, tossing it against the siding. Herb groaned in delight, completely pleased with her proximity, and flipped over onto his back to stretch his stomach out as far as he could, giving Sam maximum surface area to stroke his no-longer-matted belly.

  “That it is. Sam, meet Herb. Herb, Sam.”

  The mutt was growing on me. Even when I’d come home in the dark hours of the night, he was still so eager to greet me at the door with a wagging tale and a lick on my cheek. Some of us were night owls, while others were morning people. Dogs, I figured, were 24/7 creatures. They were at their best at any given hour of the day. It was like they were just so grateful to be alive that they celebrated every waking moment with a slobbery kiss and a warm nuzzle. How much easier life would be to be able to operate like that, too?

  “He’s not so bad. A little scroungy, but sorta cute.”

  “That’s not a very nice way to talk about me.”

  My eyes snapped up.

  Lincoln was standing at the edge of the grass, right where it met the solid concrete line of sidewalk, where nature stopped and the city took over. His hands were deep in his denim pockets and he had a neon mesh vest hanging loosely on his body over a white undershirt with a V-neck that was stretched from wear. He’d been sweating at some earlier point because sawdust and dirt collected in dried lines that streaked from his sideburns down to his angular jaw. A circular indentation pressed into his hair, a ring from the hardhat he must’ve been wearing at the job site. He was definitely fresh—or maybe not so fresh—from work.

  “What are you doing here, Lincoln?”

  I stood up so fast the world around me spun. Blinking rapidly, I attempted to regain my bearings but the newly blossoming trees still pirouetted in my periphery.

  “I thought I’d stop by on my lunch break to see if you needed any help with Herb.”

  Sam shot me a questioning look. A look that screamed, ‘Who the hell is this?’ But not in a bad way—a really great way—because Sam pretty much spoke about everything in life with that same enthusiasm. Since I didn’t think she’d ever witnessed an actual interaction between me and a guy before, the hell in her stare was a totally fitting inclusion.

  “Sam,” I said. “This is my friend, Lincoln.”

  “Your friend... Lincoln.” She slowly used her legs to push up off the ground.

  “Her friend, Lincoln.” He’d made his way up the driveway now, skipping practically. He donned a smile and jutted a hand toward Sam.

  “How come you have friends that I don’t know about, Eps?” Her eyebrows furrowed over her light blue irises. The lids were caked with a painter’s pallet of colors, and her lipstick was a deep metallic plum. And here we stood. Me and my two friends. Three if you counted Herb. And we couldn’t look more unlike the other if we’d tried.

  “I thought I was your only friend,” Sam laughed, grabbing on to Lincoln’s hand and giving it a firm, no-nonsense shake. “You’ve been cheating on me?”

  “In all fairness, I’m just as surprised by this as you are,” Lincoln said. “I was under the impression that Eppie had lots of friends. She was a bit misleading with that information.”

  “I told you my friends called me Eppie. I didn’t specify as to the timeframe of when I had those particular friends,” I defended. “My friends, over the years, have all called me Eppie.”

  “But your one current friend calls you Eps.”

  Sam batted at the air. “Oh, I call her all kinds of things. Eppie, Eps, Eeeps, Mullet Girl—”

  Lincoln’s head cocked to the side. He looked a little Herb-like when he did that.

  “It was an unfortunate haircut.”

  He nodded with a grin.

  “Homegirl. Homeslice. Chica. Chiclet. Bubble-Gummy.”

  “Her dad owns the candy store.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got all sorts of aliases,” Lincoln laughed. “And all I have at my disposal is Eppie. Makes me feel a little slighted.”

  “I’m the one who should feel slighted. I had no clue Eps had a hot construction worker friend in her back pocket.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t fit in her pocket. I’m crazy tall.”

  “You are crazy tall!” I nearly shouted. I’d noticed it the moment I met him, but wondered if he was aware of just how towering he probably appeared to the rest of the average height society. Like, did giraffes think their necks were unusually long, or did they just think everyone else’s were too short?

  “You noticed,” he smirked.

  “It’s hard not to. I’m like eye level with your chest.”

  “And what a pity it is that those roles aren’t reversed.”

  Oh man, my face scorched. I hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. Or maybe I hadn’t meant for Lincoln to interpret it that way because I thought the way I’d said it was just fine.

  “I like this guy,” Sam nodded. “He’s funny.”

  “Not trying to be funny, necessarily.” Lincoln bent down to rough up the top of Herb’s head with his fist, sort of like a noogie. “It’s the case for my one current friend, Dan. Damn bastard. It’s boob vision for days with that guy.”

  “Dan must be incredibly short,” Sam gathered.

  “He is now.” Lincoln popped back upright and stumbled off the porch step toward me. Like I said, I was staring straight at his chest. I flickered a glance up to the divot in his collarbone where his shoulders and neck met, and it was pooled with sweat, making my hormones go instantly haywire. “It’s the lack of legs that will mess with your height.”

  “Dan has no legs?” I gasped, quickly covering my mouth. I was pretty certain that was the exact opposite reaction of what I should have said. It felt insensitive on the highest level. And stupid. It felt stupid, too.

  “Yep, no legs for Danny-boy.”

  “What a trip!” Sam laughed, which made me want to retract my insensitive comment. Pretty sure Sam just beat me out with hers. “No legs, huh? Can I see?”

  “Well, since they’re not really there, they’re pretty tough to see. But if you squint really hard and tilt your head to the left... nope, you still can’t see anything.”

  I groaned quietly. “This is... just so wrong.”

  Lincoln dropped a hand onto my shoulder and squeezed it just a little. I knew there weren’t any pulse points located in my shoulders—at least I didn’t think so—but I still worried that he could feel my erratic heartbeat because it had to be evident even there. My body thrummed all over like some vibrating chord. “Oh, Eppie, don’t feel bad. Dan knows he doesn’t have legs.”

  “But does he really want everyone else discussing their nonexistence?” I asked, feeling bad for this Dan I hadn’t even heard of two minutes earlier. I’d had years of people talking behind my back and knew the hurt of it firsthand.

  “It’s not like he isn’t aware of the lack of legs.”

  “When can we meet this legless wonder?” Sam blurted.

  I jabbed her straight in the ribs, starting to get a bit angry.

  “What? What’s wrong with that? I wanna meet him.”

  “Luckily, his worldwide tour just wrapped up and he’s only doing local showings now. And I’m fairly certain he’ll be at Roast House tonight for an exclusive, live, in-the-flesh concert!” Lincoln teased. “Also, he’s my roommate. So there’s always that connection.”

  “No way!” Sam slugged him directly in the shoulder.

  “Yes way,” Lincoln stated. “And no legs. But probably lots of caffeine-induced, long-winded reminiscence and an occasional expletive outburst about the glory days. You in?”

  “Sounds outrageously incredible!” Sam said.

  I wasn’t sure I could say the same.
It would likely be incredible in a way—incredibly awkward, incredibly uncomfortable—but not because of Dan at all. Because of the fact that hanging out in a group of four like this—two boys and two girls—had all the indications of double dating. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Or maybe I wasn’t sure Lincoln was ready for that. For dating. For dating me.

  “What about you, Eppie?” Lincoln nudged me with his elbow and simultaneously waggled his eyebrows. We sure were doing an awful lot of jabbing, slugging, and elbowing. “It promises to be an evening unlike any other.”

  I smiled distantly.

  I didn’t doubt that. That had been the theme of all of my evenings with Lincoln thus far.

  I was definitely in.

  ***

  “I’m going to climb in the back,” I said, my shaky voice giving evidence to the unreasonable amount of nerves infiltrating my system. I fiddled with the hole in the knee of my worn jeans. A frayed, white thread snapped in two within my grip. “I should sit in the back.”

  “Not necessary. Dan doesn’t need the legroom. You’re fine as-is. Stay put.”

  Each comment about Lincoln’s friend Dan made me increasingly hesitant to be participating in this double date that wasn’t quite a double date.

  “Just wait here and I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Lincoln left the camper idling as he slammed the driver’s side door shut and jogged up the brick steps to their duplex. He had big tennis shoes on that took up almost the entire length of each stair, toe to heel. Then, like he’d suddenly remembered something that couldn’t wait, he flipped around and skipped back our way. I rolled the window down on my side, cranking it open. “Just so I don’t forget,” he said, his hands hooked over the doorframe, “avoid making any Forest Gump references. Like, at all costs. Okay?”

  “Well, shoot,” Sam laughed from her place in the middle row. Her hands clapped loudly onto her thighs. “I brought him a box of chocolates and everything!”

  “Oh, I’ll keep the chocolates,” Lincoln winked. “But seriously, no Gump stuff. Rubs him the wrong way.”

  “Got it,” I assured, though admittedly confused. I waited until Lincoln was halfway back up the walk before I turned in my seat to face Sam. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

  “I know! It’s an Academy Award winning flick! Who could have anything against that? And Tom Hanks. Love him. Even in The Terminal, and that entire flippin’ movie took place in a godforsaken airport! Not the most stellar of performances, but notable nonetheless.”

  “Not about the movie.” The thick strap of the seatbelt dug into my neck, and I pulled it loose with my thumb. Why were seatbelts constantly trying to strangle you? Wasn’t their job to keep you safe? “About the fact that you, me, Lincoln, and Dan are all hanging out. It makes me uncomfortable. And it feels date-ish.”

  “Because it is date-ish.” That didn’t ease my worries one iota. “But look at it this way—at least you’ve seen your date. The only thing I know about my date is what he doesn’t have. Does he have blue eyes? Maybe. Full, pouty lips that beg to be licked? Possibly. Sandy blond hair hinting at a beachy, surfer style and a laid back, no worries attitude? Could be. Legs? Nope.” Sam shook her head. The fringe of her indigo hair stuck to the shiny patch of gloss smothered across her lips. “See? The only definitive thing I know about him is what he doesn’t possess. So you really have a leg up on me in that department.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Sam smacked her gum loudly. “Oh yes, I did. Good one, huh?”

  “Shhh!” I fluttered my hand at her. My fingers got dangerously close to the sticky bubble ballooning from her mouth. “I think I see them!”

  “They can’t hear us, you know. Leglessness doesn’t affect auditory function.”

  I shushed her once more. “Just shut up, your talking is making me more nervous.”

  “What do you have to be nervous about? You already know that your date is hot.”

  I blushed just hearing that. “You think Lincoln’s hot?”

  “In a too-tall, awkward man-boy kind of way, yes, he’s hot.” Sam crawled across the backseat to peer out the window on my side, her hands and knees pawing at the upholstered leather seats. Lincoln had the handles of Dan’s chair in his grip and both guys had their backs to us as they maneuvered backward down the driveway. “Do you really need my validation on those kinds of things, Eps?”

  “Yeah, I sorta do.”

  “Then you’ve got my notarized stamp of hotness approval.” Sam pressed her index finger to the fogged-over glass, pointing almost. “Shhh, they’re almost here.”

  “I thought you were just saying we didn’t have to be quiet—”

  “How’s my hair?” She fluffed the back of her head with her palm and pressed her lips together tightly. Primping wasn’t something I knew how to do.

  “Purplish blue.”

  “Good. And my lips?”

  “Kissable.”

  “Even better. God, I hope this Dan guy is hot. The anticipation is killing me!”

  I giggled. Sam was consistently overly eager when it came to boys. She hadn’t mentioned Brian—or was it Ryan? —in the past few days, and I assumed she’d flung that short-lived fling out of the way to make room for the newest flavor of the week. Sam ran through guys like one does Kleenex. Or toilet paper. Or whatever it was that served a completely necessary purpose, but also had to be quickly and appropriately discarded. She was a love ‘em and leave ‘em sort of gal, minus the love portion.

  When the two guys we were impatiently waiting on got to the base of the walk, Lincoln spun the chair around so fast that it was all a blur of blond hair and tanned skin, a deep maroon t-shirt and glints of metal. It was like he was purposefully keeping Dan hidden from our view, only to ramp up the expectation.

  “Please be hot,” Sam whispered once more as a mantra. “Please be hot.”

  I faced forward, focusing my gaze straight out the front windshield.

  Until I realized that was rude. And weird. It was weird to ignore someone when you were about to be introduced, obviously. So I peered slightly over my left shoulder, trying to maintain a cool, casual composure, but I’d never learned how to be either of those things. Instead, I devised a makeshift plan at attempting normalcy. I’d make the customary eye contact and then would swivel back into my assumed position. I wouldn’t make things awkward for us all. Awkward was never fun.

  Out of the corner of my vision I could already see Dan—a not at all unhot teenage boy—in Lincoln’s arms, not so much cradled, just carried. The door opened and Dan lowered into the camper and immediately shot a heart-fluttering smile my direction, then passed the same one over to Sam.

  Sam, clearly, was over the moon with this.

  “Hello, ladies.”

  “Hello, Dan,” Sam cooed.

  Lincoln spoke up, still standing outside the vehicle. “I’m gonna throw this in the back real quick,” he said as he motioned toward Dan’s chair.

  “Thanks, mate.”

  I didn’t figure Dan to be an Australian, but oh how he had that beach vibe Sam had been craving. His skin wasn’t merely kissed by the sun, but had clearly made out with it and taken it back to his duplex for a good old romp between the sheets. The evidence of its golden rays was all over him. He was gorgeously tan—unrealistically so—with light eyes and silver studs in his ears, along with the brightest, whitest smile I’d ever seen. Though he had several visible pockmarks along his jaw and left cheek, if anything, they only added to his rugged, masculine aura. He truly was a sight to behold.

  The back propped open and the entire frame jolted as Lincoln hoisted the wheelchair into the van and then slammed the door shut. I could hear his feet fall in loud claps as he jogged his way back around to the driver’s side of the camper.

  “Sam, I presume,” Dan said as the vehicle began coasting down the street toward the coffeehouse, Lincoln at the helm. Even his voice was sexy and made my breathing stutter, which was weird for a sound to have the ability
to falter something so normally routine for me. “Short for Samantha?”

  “Yep. Dan, short for Daniel?”

  “Short for Lieutenant Dan.”

  Sam huffed and gritted her teeth simultaneously. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Lincoln!” She jabbed at the back of his seat with a balled up fist. Still driving, Lincoln eyed her in the rear view mirror, giving her a don’t-you-even-think-about-it glare. “Seriously? I can’t say anything?”

  Lincoln shook his head so tightly it looked like a nervous tick.

  “Listen,” Dan interrupted. He seemed like a sharp guy. I doubted he’d be one to miss the underlying, very blatant nonverbal exchange occurring in the camper. “I don’t have legs. I’d love to tell you the harrowing tale of just why I don’t have said legs, but that will have to wait until we’re in a location that has lots of paper products that can absorb the deluge of tears that will likely ensue.”

  “Coffee house it is. Then you’re spilling the beans.” Sam nodded with a playful smirk. “But just so you know, you’re probably not the only one in this bus that has a sob-worthy story.” Her gum crackled between her teeth when she spoke, almost giving her a kind of accent. “I just want to prepare you so you don’t feel slighted and all when the sympathy is evenly dispersed around the table and doesn’t solely land on your shoulders.”

  “You hear that, Linc?” Dan called out from the middle. He cupped his hands in a funnel around his mouth dramatically. “Sam thinks she’s got you and me beat when it comes to pathetically tragic pasts.”

  Lincoln, still using the rearview mirror to communicate with the backseat occupants, shed a small, unwilling smile. It barely reached into his cheeks at all.

  I glanced across the cab at him. I hoped to catch his gaze, and sure enough, within seconds Lincoln looked my way. That’s when I reached over the console between us and rested my hand there, available. He must’ve seen me place it, because his ended up in exactly the same positioning, only two inches away. Every bit of what we were doing was intentional on the most honest level, testing one another’s hormones like this.