Drive Me Crazy

by Tami Franklin

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Drive Me Crazy

  Also by Tami Franklin

  About the Author

  Copyright © T.M. Franklin, 2019

  Originally Published as part of the What the Heart Wants Anthology

  Copyright © T.M. Franklin, 2017

  The right of T.M. Franklin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by: T.M. Franklin

  Images by:

  stock.adobe.com

  © flint01

  © redkoala

  Visit the Author’s web site at

  www.TMFranklin.com

  “ . . . but that’s what it’s there for, am I right?” The guy in Ben’s passenger seat emphasized his point with a huge burp, which was greeted with enthusiastic cheers from the drunken frat boys in the back seat.

  Ben nodded stiffly as the man swayed a little, bumping his shoulder and sending a waft of liquor-soaked breath into his face. He turned the corner, relieved to find his destination only a block up on the left. Traffic was busy as usual on a Friday evening, and Ben had considered not switching on his Uber app as he left the library to head home. But a buck was a buck, as his father always said, and heaven knew he could always use an extra buck.

  Streetlights glimmered off puddles as he pulled to a stop at the curb, glancing through the rain-spattered windshield at the row of bars and restaurants.

  “Here you go,” Ben said, fighting the urge to shove them all out of the car as quickly as possible. They toppled out and staggered down the sidewalk with laughter and whoops of excitement, leaving the back passenger door wide open. Groaning in frustration, Ben threw open his door and dashed through the rain to slam it shut. He was drenched by the time the passing traffic slowed enough to let him get back in, and he fumbled in his pocket for something to dry his steamy glasses.

  He had just replaced them, combing his fingers through his wet hair and cranking up the heat, when the passenger door flew open and a tumble of colors collapsed into the seat next to him.

  “I tell you, he’s a number one douche nozzle. Number one!” the girl—it was a girl, Ben realized—shouted, and he realized after a stunned moment that she was talking into her phone. “He sent his steak back three times, Sadie. Three times!” She caught Ben’s shocked expression and frowned. “Hang on a sec,” she said into the phone, then covered it with her hand. “Hey. Mark, right? I’m Lilli. Can we get going, please? I need to get home, get in my pajamas and have a nice glass of wine or some ice cream or maybe both.” When Ben continued to gape at her, she raised her eyebrows. “1416 Commercial. Do you need directions?”

  Ben recovered from his surprise and shook his head, opening his mouth to tell her he wasn’t Mark and she was in the wrong car, but she was already back on the phone.

  “And then he texted the whole time, telling me he had this big deal and he just had to be on hand at all times or it could all fall apart.” She caught Ben’s eye and waved toward the steering wheel in a hurry up kind of motion.

  Ben shrugged and put the car into gear. Commercial was on his way home anyway, and the girl sounded like she’d had a pretty horrible evening, so he figured it was the least he could do. His good deed for the day.

  “I swear, Sadie, this is it. No more blind dates for me.” She paused, and Ben could hear the sound of Sadie’s voice, although he couldn’t make out the words. “I know.” Lilli sighed. “I know. But it’s just not worth it, not even for the free meal.” She glanced at Ben and he kept his gaze strictly forward.

  “I’ve gotta go,” she said, still watching him. “Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye, hon.”

  She disconnected the call and Ben swallowed nervously, unsure what to say.

  Lilli had no such qualms, however. “Let me ask you something, Mark,” she said, turning toward him and tucking a leg beneath her. “Why are men such idiots?”

  Despite himself, Ben choked out a laugh. “We’re not. You shouldn’t let one . . . douche nozzle . . . ruin it for the rest of us.”

  Lilli snorted, and he hazarded a glimpse in her direction. He could see the differentiation of colors now—shoulder-length dark hair topped by a bright pink hat, a dress with large flowers of the same pink along with yellow and green. Her raincoat was a pale yellow plaid and she wore matching rubber boots. Somehow, despite the haphazard intermixing of color and patterns she looked . . . nice. It suited her.

  She studied him and he caught a glimpse of wide dark eyes, a short, upturned nose and smirking, full lips before he turned his gaze back to the traffic ahead.

  “So,” she said, tugging up her knee and wrapping her arms around it. “Tell me about yourself, Mark. No . . . no, let me guess. I’m really good at this. I think I have a little psychic in me.”

  He gave her a skeptical look, but she just narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re smart. A student, most likely. I’m thinking . . .” She tapped a finger on her lips and Ben noticed her nails were painted bright yellow with white daisies on her ring finger. “Business, most likely.”

  Ben turned onto Commercial and cleared his throat. “Double major, actually. Business and Pre-law.”

  “Ahh . . .” she nodded sagely. “Of course, I should have gotten that. The black polo shirt and khakis are a dead giveaway. Practically a Pre-law uniform.”

  He shot her a glance, and she smirked. “Let me guess. All-American blond, blue-eyed frat boy going to college on the family dime and Uber-ing for a little party money on the weekends.” She turned back toward the windshield and her voice took on an air of condescension. “Probably a legacy, headed to the Ivy-league or something Ivy-adjacent for law school. Clerking for someone on the federal level to earn your stripes, then straight back to Daddy’s firm to take over the reins. Am I right?”

  Ben fought a rush of irritation. “No offense, but that’s really none of your business.”

  Silence hung in the air for a long moment, then the girl sighed. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “I know. I just . . . it’s been a long night.”

  Ben didn’t know how to reply to that, so he didn’t. He couldn’t wait for this ride to be over so he could go home and forget about it. Forget how her words had poked at something deep inside him. Something he preferred not to examine too closely.

  He pulled over in front of her apartment building and waited silently, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

  Lilli cleared her throat. “So, um. Thanks for the ride.”

  He nodded curtly, but didn’t look in her direction.

  “Sorry again, about before.”

  Ben shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” When she didn’t make a move to get out, he glanced at her. “I really need to get going though, so—”

  “Oh yeah, sure.” She fumbled for the door handle and managed to get out of the car. She poked her head back in. “I really am sorry, Mark.”

  Ben looked into her sad, dark eyes and sighed. “It’s not Mark.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not Mark. You got into the wrong car.”

  She stood up and thumbed at her ph
one. “You have got to be kidding me,” she murmured, obviously finding a message from Mark wondering where she was. “You could have been a psycho or something.”

  “Who’s saying I’m not?” he asked. Feeling a punch of victory at her surprised expression, he smirked. “Guess your psychic tendencies need a little bit of practice.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Touché. Good night, whoever you are.”

  “Goodnight, Lilli.”

  For some reason, Ben couldn’t get the encounter out of his mind over the next week and he wasn’t sure why. He’d spent maybe fifteen minutes with Lilli, and during most of those, he was annoyed at her. Still, he’d find himself replaying her words at odd moments, feeling her condescension like a nagging itch on his skin.

  Why did he care what she thought? What did it matter to him if the whole world saw him as a silver-spooned rich boy who was set to take over the family business? What was wrong with that? So he had a few advantages—was it wrong to use them? His future was laid out before him—had been as long as he could remember—and he was fine with that.

  Really. He was fine with it.

  Pretty much.

  Ben shook his head to dislodge the uncomfortable thoughts and focused on the textbook lying before him on the library table. After a few moments, he gave up and looked out the window at the darkening sky beyond.

  Was he fine with it? Really?

  He’d followed along with what was expected of him for most of his life, only rebelling once when he was fifteen and wanted to write for the school newspaper. His father had quickly put an end to that, insisting that journalism—print journalism, anyway—was a dying field and there was no future in it. Ben had given in, of course, and instead joined the Future Business Leaders of America and the lacrosse team, since it would look good on his college applications.

  His father didn’t know that, despite his apparent capitulation, Ben went on to write a monthly column for the Kennedy High Gazette under an anonymous penname. Or that he’d continued to do so for his college paper since his second semester. It was a small act of rebellion, but it made him feel . . . good. Strong.

  He knew he’d never be a journalist professionally, but it was nice to flex those muscles, even if it was under a pseudonym.

  It was enough. It was fine. Maybe once he’d passed the bar and was working at the firm, he’d do some more writing if he could find the time. Maybe the law review or some consulting for the local paper.

  Ben blinked as the lights flashed overhead, signaling the library was about to close. He hadn’t gotten much done, and would end up spending most of the weekend studying, as usual. After packing his stuff up with a yawn, he made his way to the lobby, thumbing through his phone, absently. He should just go home and study some more. He really should.

  But when he got into his car, he opened his Uber app and set himself as available. To his surprise, a ride downtown popped up almost immediately, and he couldn’t keep down a rush of anticipation, no matter how ridiculous it was. What were the chances he’d get another ride with the same girl? And why would he even want to see her again? She was pushy and kind of rude, and she made him reconsider things that had long ago been settled in his mind.

  It made him . . . antsy. Uncomfortable.

  He accepted the ride anyway. And the name Lilli popped up on the screen.

  Whoa.

  Butterflies twisted in his stomach as he neared the pickup spot, and they took flight when he caught sight of her standing on the corner, speaking on her cell phone. She looked up and spotted the car, taking a few steps, then freezing when she saw him through the windshield.

  She said something into the phone and then hung up, squaring her shoulders before she got into the car.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Mark,” she said once she’d opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

  Despite himself, Ben snorted, although he didn’t correct her. “You’re the one who asked for the ride.” He took in her outfit—a purple dress this time with matching heels. Her hair was pulled up, revealing swingy earrings with multi-colored beads.

  “Another blind date?” he asked, unsure why he cared.

  Lilli let out a heavy groan. “Ugh. Yes. And this one was worse than the last! He called his mother—his mother—in the middle of dinner. And he sent her a picture of me to get her approval or whatever.” She waved a hand.

  Ben grimaced. “Wow.”

  “Right? I mean, I like it when a guy respects his mother, but that’s a little much!”

  After a few silent moments, Ben couldn’t resist. “So did she approve?”

  Lilli laughed—a surprised snort that Ben tried to convince himself he didn’t find cute.

  “I have no idea,” she replied. “I said I had to go the bathroom and made a run for it.”

  Ben shook his head, but smiled. “Coward.”

  She shrugged, unbothered, and looked out the window at the passing scenery. They stopped at a light and she turned to face him again, her knee tucked up underneath her. “Listen, I really am sorry about last time.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “No. No, it’s not. I hate stereotypes and I fed into all of them and I’m just—” She sighed. “I’m not proud of that, okay? So, I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t know why it was so important to her, but Ben couldn’t deny her his forgiveness. “Really, it’s okay. No harm done.”

  “Okay,” she said, nodding. “Okay, good.”

  He smiled, looking into her dark eyes. “Good.”

  The silence seemed weighted, somehow, and Ben wasn’t sure why.

  “Green light,” she said.

  “What?”

  Lilli tipped her head toward the windshield. “The light’s green.”

  “Oh!” He blinked a few times and started through the intersection.

  “So, how about you let me try again,” Lilli said.

  “Try what?”

  Her grin widened. “My psychic reading.”

  He huffed. “No thanks.”

  “No, seriously. I promise I’ll be nice.” At his skeptical look, she smacked him in the arm. “I can be nice!”

  Ben didn’t know why, but he shrugged in acquiescence.

  “You’re . . .” She hummed for a moment, considering. “You’re undercover for the federal government, posing as a typical overachieving student, but in reality you’re trying to take down an international crime ring.”

  Despite himself, Ben felt a smile quirk his lips. “What kind of crime ring?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “Illegal imports of counterfeit cargo shorts.”

  “Illegal cargo shorts? Really?”

  “It’s a very serious problem, Ben,” she said somberly. “Cargo shorts are quite important to frat boys. Second only to khakis and polo shirts, of course.” She glanced pointedly at his outfit.

  He found it hard to be offended when he spotted the teasing smirk on her face.

  “You’ve discovered my secret,” he said, shaking his head. “Now, I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.”

  “Oh, I have A-1 security clearance. No worries about that.”

  “A-1. Impressive.”

  Lilli shrugged. “Let’s see. What else? You have an exam coming up. Criminal Justice, or maybe Sociology. You work out, but you’re not insane about it,” she continued, then added with a grin. “And despite the All-American, blond, blue-eyed boy-you’d-take-home-to-mom thing you’ve got going on, you don’t have a girlfriend—or boyfriend—since you spend your Friday nights rescuing maidens from ill-fated blind dates.”

  He pulled over in front of her building and turned to her in surprise. “That’s—that’s pretty amazing, actually.”

  She nodded soberly, then after a beat, burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said, still laughing. “Your face.” She took a breath and smiled. “You have a backpack in the back seat. The zipper’s open, so I could see your textbooks. You have a gym membership card on your key ring.” She motioned to where i
t dangled from the ignition. “And the rest is pretty obvious.” Lilli picked up her purse and started out the door before ducking back in.

  “Thanks for the ride, Ben.”

  His brows shot up in question at his name, and she held up her phone.

  “It was on the app.” She grinned.

  “Ah, Uber beat me to it,” he said with a laugh. “Yeah, I’m Ben. Ben Anderson.”

  “Thanks for the ride, Ben Anderson,” Her smile widened and she extended her hand across the seat. “I’m Lilliana Santos. Damsel in distress and amateur psychic extraordinaire.”

  “Lilliana. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand and smiled at her. “Stay away from the douche nozzles, okay?”

  “I’ll try,” she said. “See you around, Ben.” She slammed the door and ran up the walkway, stopping to stomp in a puddle along the way.

  Ben laughed and watched her until she closed the front door behind her.

  And maybe he sat there for just a little bit longer with a smile on his face, although he’d never admit it to anyone who called him on it.

  stalking [staw-king] n.

  1. Hunting for game by moving silently and stealthily or by waiting in ambush

  2. The crime of following or harassing another person, causing him or her to fear death or injury

  3. The removal of stalks from bunches of grapes prior to winemaking

  Ben frowned at the definition in his Criminal Law glossary. One and three he was fine with—no game or grapes involved here. But two gave him pause. No, he was pretty sure Lilli didn’t fear death or injury, but maybe only because she didn’t know that he was driving by her apartment building on the way to class every morning and home every night. Sure, it wasn’t really out of his way, but it wasn’t the shortest route either. And he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. He didn’t really know her. Wasn’t sure what he’d do if he actually saw her. Wave? Stop? Smile? All of the above?

  Which might just creep her out and push her toward the fear of death or injury portion of the definition.