Crazy Girl

by B. N. Toler

“I definitely need some coffee.”

  Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pushed up on her toes for a kiss. I stayed straight at my full height and laughed when she curled her mouth, frustrated with me because there was no way we could kiss unless I bent to meet her. “Really? You’re not going to bend a little and help a shorty out?”

  “What if I couldn’t, eh? What if I had an iron rod in my back that wouldn’t allow me to bend? What lengths would you go to kiss me, woman?”

  Releasing her hold around my neck, she stepped back and huffed as she gazed about the room. Her brows lifted suddenly as if she’d found her answer before she flashed a look to me that said, watch this.

  Moving across the room, she pulled a stack of books from the wall, my shirt rising up and revealing the curves of her ass, making me have to adjust myself where she couldn’t see. The pile wasn’t so high, but the books were thick, which made the entire pile too heavy for her to lift. She slid the stack across the floor until it was in front of me. Holding my shoulder, she stepped on the pile, which made her about an inch higher than me. Once she was steady, a victorious smirk captured her features and she wrapped her arms around my neck again.

  “Isn’t this against some kind of religious book lover code or something? Stepping on the art of writers or something like that? Blasphemy of romance.”

  “Nooo,” she assured me. “Because the act of stepping on these novels of romance was romantic in itself, my sin is washed away.”

  “Good to know,” I feigned a relieved sigh. “I was worried you might be cast away into an eternity of no books or reading.”

  She gasped, playing along before covering my mouth with her hand. “Don’t speak such vile and unholy words, child.”

  I laughed. “Well, I’m deeply touched you would go to such lengths just for a smooch from me.”

  She chuckled. “For all this effort, I expect the payout to be worthwhile.”

  I grinned as I grabbed her ass and jerked her body to mine. “Yes, ma’am.” Our mouths met and her hands fisted my hair as I clutched her tightly to me. She raised one leg and hooked it around my hips. “Damn, Hannah,” I breathed as I pressed my erection against her. It only took seconds and the woman had me ready to kick the pile of books aside and take her right there on the floor, but a knock on the door hindered that.

  We pulled apart, both of us a little breathless. I held her steady as she stepped off the books. “I swear, this better not be some kind of salesman.”

  “Open the door, you whore. We know you’re in there,” a female shouted through the door. Three loud bangs followed. “Let us in.”

  Hannah’s body shook with silent laughter as she covered her face with her hands. When she dropped them, she cut her eyes to me. “I apologize in advance.”

  I raised my brows as she began unlocking the door. “Uh, should I go upstairs?”

  She shook her head no. “They’ll only come up after you.”

  Opening the door, two women entered with bright smiles and wide eyes that were immediately fixed on me. Both were attractive, though they looked a little hungover. As their stares left my face and drifted down my body, it occurred to me I was only wearing boxers. And Hannah only had on my shirt…with nothing on under it. But I guess Hannah’s lack of clothing didn’t matter much since they were all women. I was the center of attention here.

  “Courtney and Kate,” Hannah sighed, tossing an apologetic look my way. “This is Wren.”

  “You left your purse at Deanna’s house last night,” the one I believed to be Courtney, based on the order in which Hannah had introduced them, said as she extended her arm holding a small purse. Hannah reached for it, but the chick with the bright-colored hair dropped it before she got it into Hannah’s hand, and it plunked to the floor.

  Hannah rolled her eyes as she bent to pick it up. “Thanks, Court. You two must’ve kept drinking after I left last night, eh?”

  So I was right. The little one, Kate, hung her head. “Why did we drink so much wine?” Her voice sounded pained.

  “Deanna was sober and kept serving us,” Hannah replied grimly. “That’s why I snuck out.”

  “She called Will and Mike and told them we weren’t driving home.”

  “Well we’ve just heard so much about you, Wren,” Kate said in a cheery Southern accent, redirecting the conversation. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Nice to meet both of you as well,” I replied. Courtney continued to stare at me, her smile bright, her eyes barely blinking. Kate elbowed her and she seemed to snap to attention.

  “Yes, so, so, sooooo great to meet you,” Courtney added.

  Hannah closed her eyes and shook her head. “Wren, why don’t you go and make yourself a cup of coffee.”

  “Yeah, I think I need one,” I agreed. As I turned and made my way to the kitchen, I could hear the three of them playfully squabble in a blur of loud whispers.

  I hate you so much right now.

  You had sex with that last night?

  You’re tapping that?

  Really?

  You so owe me. I was the one that made you get on that app!

  Shut up, he’ll hear you.

  Was it dirty? It was, wasn’t it? Damn, I bet it was.

  Shut uuuuuup.

  He had big feet.

  And hands.

  Did you see his abs?

  Oh man, I bet he went down on you for hours.

  Now I have a mental image of him, and I can replay all the epic sex you’ve told me about over and over.

  Courtney!

  What? Kate asked if it was dirty.

  The whispers grew louder and faster until I was unable to decipher any clear wording. I turned and the three of them were huddled together in some kind of fight where they were trying to out whisper each other and flapping their hands in some kind of girl-fight. Hannah was pushing against them like somehow in doing so she would silence them, and Kate and Courtney were pushing back, both of them grinning as they continued to whisper; though, they’d stopped making complete sentences and it sounded like all they were saying were dirty words just to rile Hannah up.

  I internally chuckled at their schoolgirl antics. They were in their mid-thirties, after all. “Would either of you ladies like a cup of coffee?” I asked. The three of them immediately drew away from each other, going still and silent. Hannah’s face was bright red, and Courtney and Kate still wore their shit-eating grins.

  “So nice of you, Wren,” Courtney said.

  “But we’re good. We’re only staying a minute,” Kate chirped.

  After making my coffee, I made my way back into the living room and found Hannah with her head hung while Courtney and Kate made thrusting motions, laughing silently as they did so.

  Clearing my throat, they jumped. “Well, Courtney, I do think it’s time we said our goodbyes,” Kate managed through her giggling.

  “Why yes, Kate. I do believe you’re right,” Courtney replied in a deepened Southern accent.

  “Thanks for bringing my purse,” Hannah piped in quickly as she herded them toward the door, much like she did to me the night of our first date.

  “Lovely to meet you, Wren,” Kate called.

  Waving a hand, I chuckled as Hannah pushed her body against them.

  “Oh my God, Hannah. Are you naked under that shirt?” Courtney said loudly, almost as if she wanted the neighbors to hear. “You’re not even wearing any panties! You dirty little slut,” she cried out. Kate, who was already out the door and on the porch, let out a loud laugh. The two were enjoying torturing Hannah way too much.

  When she finally shut the door, she pressed her forehead against it. “Well, those were two of my best friends.”

  “They seemed like a lively duo.”

  Spinning around to face me, she smirked. “They are.”

  Sipping my coffee, I glanced around the room again. It would’ve been nice to have a place to sit.

  As if she’d read my mind, Hannah apologized, “Sorry I d
on’t have anywhere for you to sit.”

  Scratching the back of my neck, I battled with whether we should broach this subject again. Last time she’d seemed agitated when I tried to discuss it with her. But at this juncture, and after last night when I felt things shift between us, maybe she’d open up to me more. Her lack of things didn’t bother me. I just wanted to understand. I wanted to get to the nitty-gritty of it.

  “So…what’s the plan here?” I began. “You’re just going to live in this empty house for the foreseeable future?”

  She pushed off the door and immediately busied herself sliding the stack of books she’d used to step on to kiss me earlier back to its place. “I told you. I just don’t want things anymore.” I didn’t believe her.

  I sipped my coffee again, giving myself a moment to choose my words carefully. I didn’t want to upset her, or make her think I was judging her. But she didn’t sound like she meant it. She plunked down on the floor in front of her laptop and began typing. Her attempt to end this discussion was anything but subtle.

  “Hannah,” I said her name. She ignored me. Wow. I’d hit a nerve. I battled again. This was obviously a sensitive subject and went much deeper than her original minimalism reasoning. “Hannah,” I said her name again. “It’s rude to ignore someone when they’re speaking to you, babe.”

  Staring at her computer screen, she continued typing. “It’s rude to push someone to discuss something they don’t want to discuss.”

  “Well people in relationships discuss…stuff.” I motioned my hand more to myself than for her, as if the gesture would explain stuff was a simplification of what I really meant.

  Turning her head, she glanced up at me. “Who said we were in a relationship?”

  The question took me aback. Her gaze was firm; purposeful. If she’d meant to sound like an asshole, she’d nailed it. I clenched my teeth. There I was thinking after the previous night we’d agreed to this, agreed to being together without having to say it out loud, and she was clueless to it. We’d never officially spoke the words, but more like we…felt it. I did, anyway. And she did, too. I knew she did. But now she wanted to act oblivious to it because I dared question her about something personal. Shit. I was acting like a woman. What the fuck? My mind rolled quickly through thoughts. I was worried about her. Hell, I was falling for her. Not something that came easy to me, and she was throwing it back in my face.

  She was still and tense as she watched me digest her question. Quickly, I shook off my thoughts and moved on. Clearly, she wasn’t wanting a serious relationship with me, or rather she wasn’t ready for one. I knew coming into this the woman was a thousand shades of crazy and had some baggage, but that didn’t give her the right to treat me like shit. Glancing down at my mug, I nodded a few times. Hannah wasn’t mine, and I wasn’t hers; therefore, her empty home was none of my business. If all we were was casually dating, then that’s all our conversation should be. “You’re right. It’s none of my business.”

  When I moved my eyes to look at her, her expression had slightly turned, a worry in her gaze. She’d regretted asking me that question, and as I looked at her, I realized she probably felt every bit of what I felt. But I wasn’t a man that played games. The fact I’d even broached that we were in a relationship was a huge step for me. I didn’t like feelings. But I had feelings for her, and at that moment it didn’t matter to me whether she felt the same as me or not. She’d just shat over mine to punish me for daring to care about why she felt the need to hide in an empty house. I mean for fuck’s sake, it was an argument over simple shit like a sofa, or a chair.

  “I’m going to get dressed and head home,” I informed her, bobbing my head once before heading to the kitchen.

  “Wren,” she called. “Don’t leave.”

  After setting my mug in her kitchen sink, the leaky, dripping faucet pissing me off even more—I mean did her minimalism include not spending money on home repairs—I went to dress. She was waiting for me by the stairs. She knew she’d messed up and she wanted to take it back. I could see it by the pained look in her eyes.

  Nope.

  Maybe I was being irrational, but I needed to get away from her. The last thing I needed was to continue falling for a woman that couldn’t own her own feelings when I struggled to allow myself to have any. I also didn’t believe she was upset about what she’d said, it was more about my reaction to it. She didn’t want me to be pissed about her snide comment. Too late. “I need my shirt,” I told her. Passing by her, I went upstairs and began tugging my pants on while she slipped out of my shirt and pulled on a robe.

  She watched me dress, and I knew, while her body was still, her mind was racing. She wanted to fix it, but how? Then her pride stepped in, hushing her from doing anything that might make her seem weak or vulnerable. Once I was fully dressed, I approached her and she tilted her chin up to meet for a kiss. Yeah, not happening. People didn’t always feel the need to say goodbye to their booty calls. That’s what suckers in relationships did. I turned my head and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. She was leaving the following day for a signing. She’d told me this days ago, and I’d seen the updates on her Facebook page. Maybe there she would pull her head out of her ass. “Have a good trip.”

  As I descended her stairs, I thought maybe she’d come after me. Maybe she’d call for me, but she didn’t. I didn’t know why I expected anything else. I’d never met a more stubborn person, and I’d dealt with some real head scratchers. She took the cake.

  Driving home, I decided it wasn’t going to work. She was too…much. She wasn’t just crazy, she was fucked up. And I was done.

  “It’s hell writing and it’s hell not writing.

  The only tolerable state is having just written.”

  -Robert Hass

  The signing had gone well. My current situation in life left me feeling less than most days, but seeing my readers always made my heart happy. It was still surreal to me that anyone would want my signature. The signing and lovely people I met had refueled me somewhat, motivating me to try harder on my manuscript. Even if I was close to losing my muse. I also got to hang with my peers, fellow writers I respected. That was always inspiring. And I tried to feed off of that.

  I’d been back two days and hadn’t heard from Wren. My eyes felt heavy from lack of sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I couldn’t stop replaying the look on his face before he left. It haunted me and kept me up at night, staring at my ceiling, hating myself. Pulling him up on Facebook, I scrolled through his page, but he hadn’t posted anything in days. Glancing at my phone, I huffed. I should call him. I wanted to. But what could I say? I’d hurt him and somehow saying sorry didn’t seem like enough.

  I missed him.

  I missed his stupid beard, and the way he made his coffee in a French press and made it way too strong, but had somehow made me like my coffee that way, too. I missed how he teased me and kissed me, and the way my body fit against his.

  Ugh, I missed him.

  My phone vibrated on my work desk. My heart skipped, hoping it was Wren, only to deplete. It was Brigham.

  Brigham: Coffee after game tonight?

  Brigham had text me several times over the last few days. Mostly pictures of random things like a photo of him as a baby and a shot of him at a club with a woman that looked young enough to be his daughter. I had no idea why he did this, but I didn’t bother asking, even though I thought I was weird.

  Me: Maybe…

  Brigham: Worried your boyfriend will get jealous?

  I rolled my eyes. I decided to stop denying I’d been seeing someone. Brigham wasn’t going to let it go.

  Me: Don’t think we’re seeing each other anymore. Been MIA.

  Brigham: He already moved on, huh?

  I wanted to throw my phone. What a shitty thing to say. Instead I put my phone down and decided to ignore him. I hated he’d touched on something that had been eating away at me—might Wren already be onto someone new? Hadn’t heard a thing while at my
signing or after. It’s like he dropped off the end of the earth. At least anywhere within my vicinity. I loathed how much that thought bothered me. And more so, I loathed that if he was moving on, it was my own fault. My insecurities and doubts, combined with Brigham’s words had me on edge. The last night I’d spent with Wren in my home had been incredible, and there had been a shift between us—I’d felt it. And I felt that he felt it. When he’d showed up unannounced and acted jealous, I was done. I loved it. I loved seeing that he cared. I felt awful for the poor Uber driver that looked like he was about to crap himself when Wren was talking to him, but I absolutely loved everything else.

  Jealousy, within reason, can be a beautiful emotion. It’s often named the ugly one; the voice of irrationality. But if we stepped back and looked at it from a different view point, we’d see it’s one of the rawest of vulnerabilities. It’s an emotion mixed with love and fear. Wren had always seemed so in control of his emotions around me. Reserved. But that night I’d seen how he really felt. And it had meant something to me.

  The next morning I’d left him sleeping peacefully in my bed and hunkered down with my laptop and wrote. He refueled me. Every time I was with him I felt inspired. Then he pushed. He had to ask about why I had no furniture, which I’d already explained. I didn’t understand why it mattered. I mean, I knew it seemed odd, but really, why did he care?

  “What’s with the mug?” Taz asked as he sat on the edge of my desk.

  “Is my expression that bad?” I snorted.

  “You look…lost in thought.”

  I let out a long breath. “I’m just over here trying to solve the riddle that is me.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t imagine the brain power that’s requiring.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. He was probably the only person in the entire world that would ever be able to tease me without me taking it to heart. One of the crew members came in to ask him a question and while they chatted, I watched him. Talk about a stellar guy. I knew I was partial, being his sister and all, but he was. I was sitting in an office in my brother’s prominent business, something he’d built from a small family business into a corporation. Taz was so put together. He’d built an amazing career had an awesome spouse whom he adored, and great kids. We’d had the same shitty things happen to us as kids—how had he managed to become this amazing grown-up and I was…me?