Sweet Insanity (Sweet Series Book 1)

by Desiree Adele

  Besides, being the reason behind her laughter and smile was a prize in and of itself. She held back for a while, but once her shoulders relaxed and her weapons were laid down, they came with ease. Yet, even while her eyes shone with a beautiful brightness from her laughter, I could sense the tragedy behind them.

  If I thought she was pretty when she was scowling, she was downright stunning when she laughed. It was like music to my fucking ears. She doesn’t have one of those ear-piercing seagull-squawking laughs. It’s more of a throaty chuckle that sent a powerful dose of desire straight to my groin. I used the time she was thanking the waiter for our food to covertly adjust myself. The bartender caught me though, and he shot me a look that said, “Smooth, man.”

  When the check came, we fought—thankfully not physically—over who would pay. I won when I reminded her of how I’d sort of tricked her into the date, but she insisted on leaving the tip.

  However, she did refuse, albeit politely, to let me drive her home. Another slight disappointment, but I wasn’t going to push my luck, so I called her an Uber and she sent me a quick, “See you in class,” as she climbed into the backseat.

  The one thing that did bother me was that she didn’t leave me with her cell number. Yeah, that stung a little bit. I can’t exactly keep barreling in while she’s working and, no pun intended, pin her down for a date.

  So I guess I’ll just have to take advantage of the opening she offered and see her in class.

  Coming back to an empty, silent apartment was a massive relief. There was no fucking way I was going to spill to Keith where I’d been or who I was with. I made that shitheaded mistake when I first told him about Dahlia. Back when I couldn’t even remember her name.

  The asshole would either taunt me or, worse, take credit for getting her to go out with me, thanks to that stunt he pulled that resulted in painful bruises and a busted lip.

  Even if that stunt did make it easier for me, I’d earned that fucking date all on my own. I’d earned those laughs and those bright smiles. They belonged to me.

  And I wanted more.

  MY PHONE HASN’T STOPPED RINGING for the past ten minutes, and I’m thankful it’s on vibrate when I walk through the door and spot Christos fast asleep on the couch, the television showing an episode of Cheers.

  After kicking off my shoes and tucking them away in the corner, I tiptoe up the stairs, careful to avoid any spots that may creak so I don’t wake him. It’s not that Christos would be upset if I told him what I was up to; I’m just not quite ready to let it out there in the open, even to him.

  I don’t even get the chance to change into my pajamas when I make it to my bedroom. Slipping my cell from the pocket in my purse, I look at it and see an image of Lexi and me with our cheeks smushed together filling the screen.

  With a swipe of my thumb, Lexi’s voice is shrieking so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Were you going to tell me you were going out with Zack Graves?”

  Great. Just fucking great. I knew some blabbermouth at Sammy’s would spot us and spew it out to the masses. The question is which blabbermouth was it? Not that it matters. The can of worms is already open and the gossip gulls are snatching every last wriggly, juicy creature.

  “Christie came back to the house tonight and told me she saw you walk into Sammy’s Wingshop with him! What gives, Dahly?”

  Ah, yes, Christie, Lexi’s sorority sister and one of the many ringleaders in the gossip circus. Had I seen her bleached-blond hair in the crowd, I would have found a way to go to another place. One far less crowded, with a reduced chance of getting caught by one of her kind.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I drop my ass on the bed. “It wasn’t exactly—” I take a breath. “Planned.”

  She snorts out a laugh. “What, did he just show up at your doorstep? I bet Christos must have loved that.”

  “The studio actually. He showed up for the youth class.” I have to bite my lip to prevent a smile from pulling at my mouth. The more I thought on it, the more laughable the whole scenario was.

  Lexi’s squeal makes me wince, whether from my embarrassment or the piercing volume of it, I’m not sure.

  “I knew it!” she professes, her voice dripping with pride. “Didn’t I tell you he was into you? Oh God, this is so exciting. When are you seeing him again?”

  “Slow down, and I don’t know. The whole thing was a little weird.”

  “You didn’t like him?”

  To the contrary. Zack was engaging, personable, and, dare I say, charming even. All things I hadn’t expected him to be. Reluctant as I was to go with him, I found myself enjoying his company and conversation.

  Yeah, I know. It freaks me out too.

  I huff out a sigh. “He was . . . fine. But didn’t you tell me he’s the campus playboy? Shouldn’t I be a little skeptical over his motives?

  “Firstly, one does not simply call Zack Graves ‘fine.’”

  And cue the eye roll. God, the girl can’t help herself.

  “Secondly, I said nearly every girl at Oakland wants him. That doesn’t mean they’ve all been successful in bagging him.”

  Yeah, but I’m sure plenty have been. Including Christie.

  “He isn’t a serial dater. I don’t think anyone has ever spotted him on legit date before.”

  “It wasn’t a date,” I insist.

  “Well, what would you call it then?” I can practically see the pestering look on her face.

  My hand flies up to cover my eyes as I search for an answer. “We were just hanging out as friends.”

  “So you guys are friends now?” she mocks in a dry tone.

  Dammit, I hate it when she twists my words. The girl is too fucking crafty for my own good.

  “Yeah, sure, we’re friends,” I say in a harsh voice, but feel the need to clarify further. “But just friends.”

  “All right, fine. So what did you and your friend talk about on said non-date?”

  God, can’t this conversation just be over with already? I’m confused enough without Lexi’s opinions in the mix.

  Using the excuse of having to wake up for an early class, which is actually true, I let her know that we’ll talk more tomorrow and hang up with a flat, “Love you too.”

  I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for far too long after finishing my nighttime routine of a shower and brushing my teeth. My mind’s spinning with the events of the evening. It almost feels as if it didn’t happen, as if it was all a figment of my imagination. Coping with it would be so much easier if it was.

  But it wasn’t, and my mind lingers on Zack for so long that the last thing I see before drifting to sleep are his luminous cobalt eyes and that warm, inviting smile.

  I’M MORE THAN RELIEVED THAT the remainder of the week went by without a hitch. No interruptions from Zack and no more inquisitions from Lexi.

  But today is Monday, which means I have to face Zack for the first time since our little outing on Wednesday.

  Professor Cormac just finished his summation of today’s lesson plan. Mental disorders present during the act of a crime. Pretty interesting if you ask me, though I’m probably the only person in this room who thinks so.

  My hands take their place on my laptop keyboard, ready to pound out notes, when someone pokes me in the back with what feels like a pencil. When I glance over my shoulder, the corners of my lips turn up as Zack makes a comical display of showing me his phone and powering it down rather than just silencing it.

  I roll my eyes before turning back to the front of the classroom and trying my damndest to type as fast as Cormac is speaking. He’s in an unusually chipper mood. Either a pop quiz is coming up and he’s waiting with eager anticipation to hear the collective groans or he has a hot date in the near future.

  See? Even someone as drudging as Cormac dates.

  I shake my head at the thought. Zack Graves and I are not dating. Nope, nada, no, nein, and all other translations of the word across the globe.

  It does
n’t matter how good looking and funny he is or how well we seemed to get along, Zack and I are simply not compatible in that way. Besides, one ‘date’ does not a relationship make. I’m not in a position to be in one right now anyway. Not that I’ve ever had one.

  Class ends with one of the freakiest sights I’ve ever witnessed. And that includes Lexi forcing me to go with her for a bikini wax. Now that’s a memory that still makes me shudder.

  Cormac smiles. Actually smiles. I swear the entire class sits there for an extra few seconds before grabbing their things and walking out.

  “Hey,” Zack says as he stands next to me. His voice is smooth, yet somehow rough at the same time. It reminds me of one of my favorite book narrators.

  I echo his greeting. “Hey.”

  “So what do you think was up with Cormac today?” he says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

  I shrug. “No idea. Whatever it is, I think he made the entire class believe we were suddenly thrust into an alternate universe.”

  He chuckles low in his throat, sending a tiny tremor up the length of my spine. I hope to God he didn’t notice.

  “I think we might be. Cormac hasn’t cracked a smile once since the beginning of the semester. The old guy must be getting laid.”

  It’s my turn to chuckle, and as I walk away, he sidles up beside me and falls into my short but quick stride. The second we enter the hallway, my throat closes and a pit opens in the bottom of my stomach. If I thought the restaurant was overflowing with gossips, we’re now in the motherland of them.

  I’m not embarrassed by Zack. That’s not it at all. I just prefer the obscurity my lack of social interactions provides. I generally fly under the radar, and that suits me just fine. No getting invited to stupid frat parties and no outlandish rumors being spread about me. That’s an idyllic existence for me. Any student should be so lucky.

  As if reading my thoughts, Zack says, “Don’t pay attention to whatever it is you think they’re thinking. I stopped doing that a long-ass time ago.”

  “How do you deal with it?” I ask, training my eyes on a small scar marring the space just above his cupid’s bow. I quickly regret that, because my idiotic mind conjures up a particularly vivid image of licking that tiny imperfection with the tip of my tongue.

  Dismissively lifting a shoulder, he says, “Because I don’t believe in wasting any energy on something that doesn’t serve you. If I let every boneheaded rumor get to me, I’d probably be huddled up in a corner somewhere crying to my teddy bear.”

  My mouth spreads in a teasing smile. “You have a teddy bear?”

  He releases a short puff of air through his nose. “Didn’t we all have one at some point?”

  Sort of. Only it wasn’t a teddy bear; it was a turquoise seahorse with little sequins on the fins and goofy big eyes.

  I draw in a deep, cleansing breath and release those memories with an exhale. I hate when they creep up on me like that. No matter how far I’ve come, the monsters are still there, scratching at my feet to drag me back down.

  We’re nearing the door when he stops just short of the metal handle and peers up at me through thick, black lashes. “So, listen. Would you—”

  “Helloooo!” Lexi calls from halfway down the hall in her best Mrs. Doubtfire impression.

  My shoulders hunch forward. Oh, wonderful, this is all I need. Reluctantly, I wave her over to us, and she nearly fucking skips the rest of the distance. Even though she’s my best friend, I know she’s the proverbial cheerleader shaking pom-poms for Zack’s team and maybe Puck Boy himself. The little traitor.

  “Figured I’d swing by after your class and ask if you wanted to grab a bite at Café au Lait,” she says to me, giving Zack the side-eye.

  I pin her with my own glare as a signal for her to stop staring. “Sounds good. I’m not training tonight, so we can go somewhere else if you want.”

  “Okay, let’s think about it.” With a mischievous spark in her chocolate-brown eyes, she turns her attention from me to Zack. “Hey, you looked like you were about to say something before I interrupted you. How rude of me. I’m Lexi, by the way.” She extends her hand.

  He accepts it with a brief shake then scratches the back of his head. “Zack.” He clears his throat.

  “Uh, just wanted to ask Dahlia if she wanted to do something later this week. Maybe try the new Italian place on Meadow Street.”

  Italian food. The ultimate romance-inducing cuisine. I can see it now, Zack and me pulling a Lady and the Tramp as we slurp the same piece of spaghetti. Sharing a plate of decadent tiramisu as we gush over the romantic atmosphere before he leans in for a kiss with some fat chef playing the accordion and singing “Bella Noté.”

  No, thank you.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” I mutter.

  His mouth presses into a hard line while he looks off to the side in an attempt to hide his disappointment.

  Ah, hell. Now I’m the asshole. This is exactly why going out once was a bad idea. But I can’t ignore the increasing tightness in my chest at the sight of his disappointment. Even Lexi is glaring daggers at me.

  I run a hand through my hair, tugging a little too hard. “I’m just—” I heave a long sigh, squeezing my eyes shut. “Can we slow it down a little? No dates. Let’s just, I don’t know, hang out. As friends. Okay?”

  To my relief, his shoulders square and a tiny spark returns to his eyes, though they aren’t shining like they usually do. “Yeah. I can do that.” He nods.

  I offer a reassuring smile. “Thank you.”

  He rocks back on his heels, hands still shoved in the pockets of his dark jeans. “Can I get your number?”

  Well, this is it. Once our numbers are exchanged, I’ve officially opened the lines of communication between us. My palms are sweaty, but I reach into my bag, pull out my phone, and hand it to him to plug in his number.

  He retrieves his cell from his back pocket, but pulls it back just before I reach out to take it. With a coy smile, he presses his finger against the power button, types in his password, and hands it to me. My fingers tremble as I enter my actual phone number. I won’t lie, the temptation to put in the wrong number almost won out, but a part of me wonders if being friends with him would be all that bad. As long as we stay securely in the friendship court, with no one putting even a toe over the friendship zone line, everything should be peachy.

  Right?

  Lexi clears her throat as she stands off to the side. Jesus, I almost forgot she was here. She isn’t usually this quiet. Zack and I apologize to her, and she waves dismissively, but her eyes remain wide as if she isn’t sure what just happened.

  Zack’s lips tip to one side in an easy smile. “I’ll talk to you soon.” He casts his eyes to Lexi. “Nice to meet you, Lexi.”

  “Yeah, you too,” she answers with a soft smile. As Zack walks through the door, Lexi hooks her arm around mine, puffing out a breath. “That was painful, babe.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Lex.”

  MY BACK FALLS ON THE bed and I huff out a sigh of exhaustion, squeezing the curve between my neck and my shoulder. That was one brutal fucking game, but we won against Ohio 3-1. Though they didn’t go down without a fight. Gotta say though, two and half hours of players shoving into you has nothing on five minutes on the mat with Dahlia.

  My head instinctively turns toward my phone on my bedside table. I’ve had her number for a total of four days, but with how jumpy she acted after class, I didn’t think it was a wise idea to text her right away. And I already knew she wouldn’t text me first.

  Given our brief conversation in the hall about not giving a shit what anyone says about me, I feel as though I’ve sniffed out the source of her discomfort. Sure, I may be used to floating around in the rumor mill—hell, I’ve earned my place there—but Dahlia isn’t and she’s been smart enough to avoid it for this long.

  So it looks as though I have two choices, if I want to keep seeing her,
aside from her back in crim psych. Take her to a place out of town or hang out in more secure locations. Considering she wouldn’t let me give her a ride home after that date, I doubt she’d be cool with the first option. So option two it is. And I know just the place.

  I press the little envelope icon next to her name.

  Me: Hey! Do you offer 1 on 1 classes?

  I’m focusing so intently on the screen, my eyes get dry. I double-check the small icon to make sure it was delivered. Not only was it delivered, but it’s been seen. She’s either making me sweat or straight-up ignoring me.

  A solid ten minutes go by with absolutely nothing, but as I get up to take a piss, I hear the little ping of a newly received text.

  I almost dive onto my bed to get my phone.

  Dahlia: yes

  One word. That’s it. Jesus, what will it take to get a reaction out of this girl? Then my phone pings again.

  Dahlia: $120 a class. Individual sessions are usually on the weekends.

  Yeesh. So if it takes her a month to feel comfortable going out with me, that’s $480 . . . if my dad catches wind of that shit, he’s gonna blow a gasket, and if he doesn’t, coach sure as hell will if he finds out.

  Is Dahlia worth it?

  Me: I’ve got practice on Sats. Does Sunday afternoon work?

  Hell yeah, she is.

  Dahlia: Yes. Noon.

  Me: See you then

  Well, hello, cloud nine. Nice to see you again.

  I stare at her text for far too long with a goofy grin on my face, but the corners of my mouth drop when I realize what I’ve gotten myself into.

  Not only am I putting myself at risk for another ass kicking, but this time I’m fucking paying for it. I’m so whipped and I haven’t even kissed this girl.

  MY KEYS CLINK AGAINST THE metal door handle as I unlock the studio doors, then I drop my duffle bag on the floor to punch in the code for the alarm.

  In twenty minutes, Zack is due for the individual course, having already secured his spot with the payment.