Sweet Insanity (Sweet Series Book 1)

by Desiree Adele

  The sneaky little devil. I swear, I never should have mentioned a word about Zack to Lexi. Ever since the whole ‘stealing my homework’ issue, I feel as though she’s been trying to hook me up with him. I make a mental note to have a little chat with her in the car.

  I turn to Zack, who is still sitting on the couch and rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Can we cancel our session today?” I scramble for a believable excuse. “I slept wrong, so I’m not in the best shape.”

  His nod is swift, but the uneasy air surrounding him makes my insides clench. I know I’m making it seem like I didn’t enjoy last night, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I had a blast at his place, and while it took a minute to get used to Keith’s very special vernacular, he’s got charisma in spades. Speak of the devil . . .

  Amid grumbles and a myriad of stomping footsteps, Keith staggers into the kitchen wearing a shirt with cut-off sleeves and a pair of white boxers scattered with what appear to be dog bones. I’m sure there’s some kind of crude joke associated with those.

  Dave and Aaron trail behind him, and soon all four of them are huddled in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and brewing coffee while Zack and I sit in uncomfortable silence.

  Naturally, Keith is the first to say something. “So I assume Z-man told you all about my nineties-themed birthday bash in a couple weeks?”

  A what?

  My confusion must be written all over my face, because Zack chuckles. “It’s just a party with a nineties theme. Clothes, music, all that shit. It was his idea, not mine.”

  I nod in understanding. “Ah, gotcha.”

  Lexi peers at me from behind her blue coffee mug. “I think it sounds fun. Don’t you think, D?” She casts me an expectant look.

  Oh, Lex, queen of interference, we are so having a chat. But honestly, what harm would it do? Lexi has been badgering me all year to go to a party with her. At least this isn’t a stupid sorority party, and blowing it off because of Zack doesn’t feel right. As long as we don’t end up falling asleep and spooning on the couch or his bed or any other surface of this house, all should be well.

  My eyes drift back to Zack, who offers a hopeful smile. “Definitely.”

  ICE SKATING. I’D LET THE bastard convince me to go ice skating. Granted, he’d caught me at a weak moment.

  We were in the studio, working on takedowns and pins. During one pin, my legs were wrapped around his upper torso while I locked his head and arm into position.

  Not exactly my brightest idea, because after the pin, we lay there staring at each other, nearly every inch of our bodies touching and sending an exquisite surge of pleasure straight to my core. When his eyes ignited into molten sapphires, I instinctively released him, needing a heavy dose of oxygen to keep my head from spinning.

  Trying to lighten the mood, Zack mentioned something about making good on his threat to humiliate me for once and suggesting a day out on the ice. Too bad I was too lost in a lustful haze to pay attention to what he was saying.

  Now I’m paying the price, though everyone else seems to be absolutely thrilled by my blossoming friendship with Zack

  Sure, because a friend looks at another friend as if they want to tear off their clothes and climb them like a tree.

  Ugh, even Christos had a little glint in his eyes when I told him where I was going today. Of course, he didn’t say anything. He’s much too discreet. All he asked was if this was the same Zack he’d seen on the schedule the last four Sundays.

  Nobody seems to understand that it’s a dangerous game we’re playing. No matter how much Zack and I get along, we come from different worlds and our lives are leading us in opposite directions. Long term, it simply wouldn’t last and we are way past the point of it just being a fling.

  When I pull up to the rink in Christos’s car, yet another odd sign of his wanting me to go, I sit there staring at the dashboard for a second. I finally unbuckle the seat belt, pull on my big girl panties, and stride into Lexington Ice Emporium.

  When I walk in, I’m struck by a wall of icy air, my arms wrapping around my middle as I shiver. I dressed in warm clothes as per Zack’s recommendation, but apparently a simple long-sleeve shirt won’t cut it.

  The whole place smells of ice. Like stepping into a walk-in freezer. A symphony of grinds and hisses fills the space while a smattering of people glide over the vast icy field. Some move with grace and precision, turning and pivoting with effortless ease, while a couple holds the hands of a small child scrambling to gain his balance.

  Yep, that’ll be me in about ten minutes. I’ll make that little kid look like a pro.

  I spot Zack sitting on one of the benches while he ties a pair of expensive-looking skates to his feet. A hideous pink pair lies next to him. When he looks at me, I feel his smile down to my bones, and my answering grin is so big, my cheeks actually hurt.

  He stands and somehow manages to walk on the blades without a single hitch in his step. “Welcome to my world, Anastas.” He spreads his arms out wide, looking far too pleased with himself.

  My upper lip curls in distaste as I glare at the skates in a color that would make Joan Rivers roll over in her grave. “What are those?”

  He follows my finger to the skates and shrugs. “I guessed you were a size eight and a half.”

  “Yeah, but what’s with the color?” I sneer, not bothering to confirm he correctly guessed my shoe size.

  Seriously, Barbie wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that shade of pink. It looks like a wad of bubblegum that’s been smashed by a thousand sneakers on a New York sidewalk.

  An evil grin spreads across his face. “That may have been intentional.”

  I smack his shoulder, and he responds with a mock whine of pain. “Let’s get this over with.” I groan as I meander to the bench and take off my shoes.

  “Whoa, don’t knock me over with your enthusiasm,” he grumbles, sitting next to me while I slip on the skates.

  Once they’re tied, I move to stand and regret it as my ankles roll and my knees smack against the carpeted floor. Dammit, I’m not even on the ice yet!

  Zack grabs my elbow and hauls me to my feet. “Take it slow and find your balance.” He cups my shoulders to steady me and smirks. “Your balance will come from your core.”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I waver and wobble while trying to put one foot in front of the other.

  Zack’s grasp remains firm on my elbow. “Doing good.”

  I’m pretty certain he’s just placating me.

  After a veritable eternity, we reach the threshold between the relative safety of the gray carpeting and the field of white that will surely be on my death certificate under ‘Cause of Death.’

  Zack releases my elbow and steps onto the ice while I clasp the glass panel as if it’s the key to everlasting life. The icy air causes my lungs to seize even more when I attempt a few deep breaths. I never should have goaded him when I teased about being a skilled skater. Then again, how was I to know we’d end up here. Together. I’m not sure which thought frightens me more. Waving me over, he extends a hand out to me, but I hesitate to pull away from the glass.

  Gliding over, his blue eyes soften. “C’mon.” he reaches for me, again. “Once you find your rhythm, it’s all smooth-sailing from there. Trust me.”

  I manage to pry one hand away from the glass and clasp his. He gingerly guides me onto the ice. Where I fall not even a foot beyond the threshold.

  And I fall hard. Like my tailbone is lodged in my chest while the jerk laughs. I guess payback really is a bitch.

  I make a face as I try in feeble desperation to get back to my feet, holding my hands out and leaning over to hold myself upright. Zack offers his hands, both palms up, and because I don’t think I can move without holding onto something, I grab them with an iron grip. Our gazes lock, and my eyes sweep over his face, his cheeks flush from the chill in the air and his earnest smile. He skillfully skates backward at a snail’s pace while I adjust. He makes it look
so easy.

  “Just make outward sweeping motions with your feet.”

  When I tear my eyes off my powder-puff-pink skates to look into his, I expect to see his chin jutting out and a smug glimmer in his eyes, but I see nothing but soft patience in the depths of his oceanic eyes. I suddenly wish I could dive into them and languidly float among the gentle waves.

  “When did you learn to ice skate?” I manage, as one of my feet threatens to go rogue.

  “I was nine when my dad took my brother and me out on a little lake nearby.”

  I snort. “So this was like fate for you, I take it.”

  Now it’s his turn to snort. “Nah, I don’t believe in fate.”

  I focus on him with more intent as he weaves backward with practiced ease.

  “People use words like fate or destiny as a crutch. Like it’s some magical fairy that sprinkles dust over their heads and all of the sudden—poof—everything straightens itself out. Our fates are contingent on our choices. It’s not about the big picture. It’s about the moments in between.”

  My eyes go soft, as do my insides, and I almost slow to a complete stop. I’d never guess a speech like that would pour out of Zack Graves’s mouth. I just assumed he’d be one of those arrogant ‘I was born to do this’ guys, beating his fists on his chest like Tarzan.

  But then again, I shouldn’t be that surprised. Zack hasn’t turned out at all how I thought he’d be. Instead of insufferable arrogance, he’s shown only humility and a confidence that’s come from years of practice and hard effort.

  Which is why coming up with excuses to avoid him is becoming all but impossible. Whenever I see him, a wave of ease rolls over me, and when my phone pings with a text from him, my face instantly brightens into a smile. But then, I know all too well that wherever there is light, shadows follow.

  “When did you become so wise, sensei?” I blurt, instantly stumbling after losing my focus.

  His eyes turn pensive, a whisper of his smile ghosting his lips. “My mother’s wisdom.” His voice is thick with somberness.

  Ah, hell. I regret poking fun of him in that moment. While he was sharing a piece of his mother’s advice he clearly lives by, I was mocking it.

  I squeeze his palms that much tighter and my lips press together in a hard line. “I’m so sorry you lost her.” He gives a dismissive shake of his head, staring at our joined hands. “She’s not lost. She’s just waiting on the other side.”

  Oh, my heart. I have to fight against pulling a hand away to clutch my chest, where a dull ache spreads wide. I can only imagine what that must have been like for him. It seems unfair that Zack’s mother loved him with her whole heart only to be taken from him, while my mother squandered her ability to live for anything aside from her addiction.

  A few minutes pass and I chance a look behind me. It feels as though we’ve gone around the rink several times, but in reality, we’ve only made it about three quarters of the way around.

  “So.” I clear my throat. “You’ve borne witness to my wildly impressive skating ability.” When a teasing laugh escapes him, I give him a wry look. “Let me see yours.”

  His forehead wrinkles, and he purses his lips. “You gonna be okay by yourself?”

  My shoulder lifts. “I think I can manage to stumble my way over to the wall.”

  With a throaty chuckle that rolls over my ears in a gentle wave, he leads me to the wall before I break my neck trying to skate the whole fifteen feet. I wobble a bit when he pivots us, but I manage to grab onto the blessed wall while he pushes off. Most of the other skaters have moved off, only a couple of stragglers remaining, but they’re clinging to the wall for dear, sweet life just as I am.

  My mouth falls open as he flies across the ice. My eyes bulge to the point they may pop right out of my head. A sinuous dance of precision and power, he leans forward, skating in wide strokes before pivoting sharply on a perfectly timed turn. It’s like watching poetry in motion. His strides are long, and he moves so fast, his short hair ripples against the wind he creates by propelling himself forward. It is—he is—truly mesmerizing.

  He circles the rink twice in the amount of time it would take me to skate even halfway around before coming back to me. But he’s coming in too fast.

  I brace myself, turning my face to press against the glass, and the next thing I know, something cold and wet covers my arm and the side of my face. Dragging a finger across my face, I look down to find ice shavings dissolving rapidly from the heat of my skin.

  When I glare at him, he has the nerve to wince. I lunge forward with the intent of strangling him—only to have my feet slip out from beneath me. I fall flat on my back, my breath leaving me in a rush.

  “Goddammit!” I shout in pain, rubbing the back of my head as I try to lift myself back up. The cold seeps through my shirt, making my teeth chatter.

  Zack crouches by my side, resting a hand against my cheek that’s numb from the ice bath. His eyes fill with concern as he gives me a once-over before his face lights up with a smug expression. “Well, this is an interesting turn of events. I managed to get you on your back this time.”

  The double entendre is definitely not lost on me, and my belly constricts at the thought of being beneath him while he explores my body with his hands and lips. And by the look in his eyes, the way they become hooded while his lips part on a breath as he stares down at me, it wasn’t lost on him either.

  OUR LAUGHTER BOUNCES OFF THE walls of his apartment as we stumble through the door. Well, to be honest, I’m doing most of the stumbling. Frustrating as it was, I have to admit that skating was more fun than I’d thought it would be. Quite possibly the most fun I’ve had in years.

  Clearly Zack enjoyed stealing me away from my world and throwing me into his. The man has patience, I’ll give him that. No matter how far I fell behind or how many times my knees smacked against the ice, Zack was there to help me regain my footing. Watching him on that ice, without the bulky gear, it was like watching Christos perform a flow. Graceful, yet powerful. With subtle movements he made to twist and turn, making it look so easy, he commanded the ice. It was as much a home to him as Christos’s studio was to me.

  Guiding me to sit on the sofa, he moves toward the kitchen, his shoulders still shaking with remnants of laughter. “Drink?”

  I wince as I bend my knees to sit. “Just water, thanks.”

  I hear the faucet followed by the hiss of a bottle top before his footsteps come back toward where I sit. When he drops himself on the couch, his weight makes me lean so our sides are completely flush.

  “You did pretty well for never having been on skates before,” he says before tipping the beer bottle to his lips.

  Words catch in my throat as I stare at his mouth while he sips, and my eyes trail to his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Powerful hands. Hands that gently held mine while he guided me around the rink.

  “You okay?” He nudges my shoulder.

  I shake my head and chuckle. “You’re just placating me. I felt like a newborn giraffe trying to walk for the first time.”

  He jerks forward, coughing midsip. “Hey now, a few more months and you’ll be the next Tonya Harding.” His head tilts. “Although you won’t need to hire anyone to break someone’s leg. You can manage that on your own.” I playfully smack his forearm, Zack just barely catching the bottle before it slips from his grasp. “Guess I’d better put this down before half of it ends up on the floor or sprayed on the flat screen. Either Keith will kill me or our landlord will.”

  After setting the bottle on the glass top, he leans back on the couch, grabbing my legs and placing them over his lap. I wince at the movement. My form is going to suffer so badly for the next few classes.

  “Think Christos will have my head for crippling his apprentice?” He smirks, sliding my Converse off my feet.

  I groan as he digs his fingers into the ball of my right foot and sink back onto the plush material. “Nah, all of our students will just have magically ad
vanced. Temporarily, of course.”

  He raises his brow, a snide smile spread across his face. “Or I can fill in for you. If anyone asks questions, I’ll just tell them you were on your knees all day.”

  I fight the urge to grimace as I try to pull my feet out of his grasp. “Careful, or you’ll have more to worry about than Keith and your landlord.”

  Callused fingers sweep over my ankles, kneading gently. Thank hell I’m not the type to wear stilettos, like so many of the girls buzzing around Zack. For some reason, that thought bothers me. Am I actually jealous of those girls? He’s never paid them much mind, and boy do they try. They all but lift up their shirts like the crazy girls at Mardi Gras, putting themselves up like an offering to him. But what would happen if I did see him reciprocating their attention? My stomach tightens. Oh hell, I’m treading on thin ice here. No pun intended.

  His fingers move in a small circle at the base of my shin. I lift my head off my arm to peer down at him.

  “You’ve a good scar here. Couple of them actually,” he says, almost absently. His brow is furrowed ever so slightly, bringing out the subtle lines in his forehead.

  Yep, scars upon scars are scattered across my legs and my hands. I can still feel the broken shards of wine bottles, plates, and glasses piercing my skin as I ravaged through restaurant dumpsters. Hungry and desperate for anything salvageable. Thankfully the scars have faded into barely visible white lines that all but blend into my fair skin. The physical ones anyway.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to focus solely on Zack and his hands. Gentle caresses that seem to search the scars for their origin. I understand that he’s waiting for an explanation I’m not willing to give.

  Abruptly, I sit up more and grab my water with a trembling hand. Alone, I can handle the memories. Even with Christos. But with anyone else, especially Zack, they make me feel weak. Small and helpless. All traits I’ve done my damndest to trample. I tilt my head so my hair falls forward, covering the side of my face.