When Perfect Meets Crazy novel Chapter 28

I came out of the Davidson home to find Masked Idiot casually leaning on the hood of my car, looking much like a model at photoshoot. The sunshades and leather jacket worked magic for him

I faltered mid stride, unsure of how to proceed.

Thanks to Parker, I now knew for a fact he wasn’t a criminal. Quite the opposite, a Fed. A criminal, I could handle. A Fed, I wasn’t sure what to do it especially since he couldn’t know I knew. Outing Parker for revealing confidential information was off the table.

I decided to be blasé and quickly sent up a prayer so it wouldn’t come off weird.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, gesturing to his outfit and pose.

It was a safe neutral conversation starter. So far so good.

“Why, hello to you too,” he drawled sarcastically, straightening to his full height.

I waved it off.

“I’m not entirely sure where etiquette stands on stalkers but it definitely isn’t exchanging greetings like close friends,” I countered, elbowing him out of the way so I could get to the driver side door of the car.

I was really nailing it.

His bike was nowhere in sight. I interpreted it to mean he’d be hitching a ride with me. While I wasn’t in danger of letting it slip that I knew he was a Fed, I still didn’t think spending more time than necessary in his presence was a good idea. In some ways, being a Fed was worse than being a criminal. A criminal, I could easily deny and everyone would believe me. A Fed, not so much. More so now, with my mom still away. If my dad got wind of this...

I shuddered.

“Someone’s grumpy,” he muttered under his breath, crossing over to the passenger side of the car.

“What’s up?” I asked as he settled in the front seat.

Anything to distract myself from the gruesome thought.

“Nothing.”

“Where are you coming from?” I probed.

“Why do you ask?” distrust coated his tone.

“You’re dressed nicer than usual,” I replied, realizing that the question had probably sounded invasive to him even though I hadn’t meant it to be. I gestured to his outfit, sparing him a cursory glance before returning my gaze to the rear-view mirror as I backed on to the road. “Why?”

“I had a date.”

It was all I could do to not physically react to the reminder. In light of the new revelation that he was a Fed, I had completely forgotten the fact that he had a girlfriend. I had instantly penned him down as a lone wolf, like Parker the only other actual agent I knew. The idea of a date -much less a girlfriend- seemed preposterous now. It was stupid of me to forget that he had a one though. I was supposed to be constantly alert and on my toes, and not forgetting important things like a girlfriend. I could kick myself.

I snuck a glance at his profile. Judging from his expression, it seemed the ‘date’ had gone awry.

“Ah.” I nodded emphatically, covering up my mistake. “With the infamous girlfriend, yeah? What was her name again?”

“Tammy,” he supplied.

“Tammy,” I echoed, silently wondering why I didn’t know any Tammys just like I didn’t know any Ellies. Why couldn’t he have been dating a girl I knew? It would’ve saved both of us much from the to-trust-or-not-to-trust rollercoaster. I wasn’t asking for much, just someone to vouch for my character and persuade him to lay off. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Where are we going anyway?” he asked, an awkward beat of silence later.

The question drew my attention back to the problems at hand and off him and his relationship drama.

“Olly took our mom’s car out since she’s away and now it won’t start,” I grumbled, irritation clear in my tone and on my face as I roughly cut off a minivan, ignoring the angry honk that came from it. “I can’t believe she did something so stupid!”

“Spoiling your mom’s car is a bad move but she couldn’t have meant to,” he interceded on Olly’s behalf.

I could feel his gaze on my profile and could pretty much hear the ‘it was just a mistake. Why are you being extra?’ on his lips.

I scowled, massaging the bridge of my nose.

“My mom never signed off her touching the car. I barely get away with using mine. I mean, she still checks my car to make sure I’m not driving recklessly. But now that the cat’s away, my stupid stupid sister decided it was time to play.”

I huffed, annoyed disbelief on my face.

“Stupidly,” I added, in case it wasn’t already clear.

He nodded slowly, holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender.

“I covered for her with the sleepover and now she pulls this?” I hissed, impatiently honking at the car ahead of me. “She didn’t even tell me before taking the car out.”

“I’d suggest you not engage in illegal hormone-driven activities that require you to keep your identity secret in the first place.”

“Boxing isn’t hormone-driven. Do you have any idea how much effort goes into training?”

“Semantics.” I waved his argument off with a flick of my wrist. “How do you suppose fighting came about? The first person who threw a punch? Do you think it happened as a calculated purely intellectual act?”

He scowled, folding his arms across his torso.

“Of course not,” I continued. “Whoever it was, did it as a hormone-driven act. Pure and simple.”

He shook his head with two parts exasperation and one part indignation.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said. “If you’re condemning all hormonal acts then you’re also saying you’re against sex.”

I almost smiled. That had to be worst counterargument he could have gone with. Off the top of my head, I could come up with ten stronger arguments. The topic was wholly in his favor. Any proper debater would’ve hit me with the rebuttal that pretty much everything evolved from a hormone driven stimuli.

“For starters,” I began, smiling inwardly at the knowledge that I was going to crush his defense. “You’re just trying to manipulate me into acknowledging your weak point. It is unacceptable, just so you know. Secondly, I’m not denying the fact that sex is a hormone-driven exercise. The only difference is, you don’t see people going around claiming sex is an intellectual activity. If you want to deny fighting for what it really is, fine but don’t expect me to stick my head in the sand with you.”

I couldn’t help but smirk as a scowl took hold of his features.

“And lastly,” I snickered, unable to help myself, “I have nothing against sex. I’m all for it.”

“I’m never gonna win with you.” He heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know why you still try.” I shook my head.

“Glad you’re feeling better,” he grumbled.

Sarcasm colored his tone. 

“We’re here,” I announced, scowling as I pulled up next to a -color me so fucking shocked- small shop with a neon sign advertising it as a tattoo parlor.

Masked Idiot’s head whipped towards me so fast it was a surprise he didn’t sprain anything. His expression was full of horrified amusement. I could already hear his thoughts going, 'and I'm supposed to believe you're a squeaky clean law abiding student?'

“Don’t say it,” I ground out, mentally coming to the decision that it was high time I killed Olly. The heck is she doing at a tattoo parlor?