Page 100 of Crazy Thing

Darius glances at my bus with a raised eyebrow. “So, this is all some big rebellion against your parents?”

I swirl my spoon around in my bowl. “When you say it like that, it sounds silly.”

“It’s not silly. Your feelings are valid. But by not allowing yourself to fully enjoy this thing between us, you’re indirectly letting your parents control you.”

“Psht. I’m not letting anyone control me,” I protest, even as I start to examine whether or not there might be some merit to what he’s saying. “The day I left my parents’ house and began to carve out my own path is the day I took my power back. I can’t just ‘sell out’ now.”

Darius is quiet for a moment. “Taking your power back—truly taking your power back—means not giving anyone the ability to deprive you of doing whatever the hell makes you happy. Within the limits of the law, of course,” he’s careful to add and I laugh. “You don’t have to prove anything to them, Ziggy. Enjoying the perks my money allows doesn’t make you a sellout.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” I ask, worrying at my lower lip with my teeth. I’m trying to be better, to be more open with Darius, to stop holding back. But at times, the chasm between his world and mine feels impossible to bridge.

He scoots closer to me and brushes my hair back from my face. “I didn’t get rich so I could flaunt it for other people and show the whole world what a big shot I am. Wanting to be wealthy had nothing to do with my ego.”

At that statement, I hike an eyebrow questioningly.

“Okay, fine. That’s a pile of bullshit. It definitely had a little bit to do with my ego.” He grins. “But that wasn’t themainreason. I worked hard and built this life because I never wanted to see the people I care about struggling. I wanted to make sure that they’d always have everything they could ever need. And for the record—your name is now at the top of that list, Ziggy Beaumont. I care about you and I want us both to enjoy our time together.”

At his words, I actually whimper out loud.

His voice is so earnest. He’s making me see everything from a different angle, from a new perspective I’ve never considered before. He’s shining a light on my own judgments and hypocrisies in a way I never expected.

“Money isn’t inherently bad, Fairy Girl. And I’d like to think that I’m not an inherently bad man just because I have a lot of it.”

I set my bowl aside and cup his cheek. “I’ve come to realize that you’re the furthest thing from ‘bad’, Darius.You’re an incredible man. I’m in awe of you every day.” I place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Look—do I want you to come over to my place? Yes. Absolutely. But I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into things you don’t want to do.” He tucks a pink wave behind my ear. “You’re my fairy girl. I’d never try to clip your wings.”

I lean across the distance between us and nibble on his bottom lip. “And I’d never let you.”

He chuckles low. “Y’know what? I like that.”

The rest of dinner is mostly quiet. When we’re done eating, we carry the dirty dishes back to my place and together, we clean up the kitchen area in silence.

It’s late now and melancholia slips over the room when it’s clear that our evening together is coming to an end. Darius grabs my hips, slowly backing me up against the counter. He dips his head, stealing my lips in an exploring kiss.

His forehead rests against mine. “The meal was delicious. Thank you for cooking me dinner.”

“We cooked dinner together,” I correct him. “It was fun.” I hesitate before admitting, “I had an amazing time with you.”

“Ialwayshave an amazing time with you, Fairy Girl.”

“Thank you for the beautiful hat.” I kiss his stubbly cheek.

“Beautiful hat for a beautiful girl.” His honey eyes twinkle at me.

After another kiss, he releases me. I feel a pang in my chest when he doesn’t mention spending the night.

I watch as he exits the bus. Through the window, I see him gathering up the blankets and pillows laid out on the grass.

My heart twinges. This perfect spell is broken and it’s time to return to my regular life.

With a sigh, I turn and head into the bathroom. I take a quick shower, wearily contemplating my drive back to Honey Hill. Traveling forty-five minutes is the last thing I want to do right now, but I can’t stay parked in Darius’s front yard forever.

I turn off the water and get dressed in a comfy pair of leggings and a baggy tie-dye T-shirt. I’m securing my hair in a messy bun as I step out into the main area of the bus.

And there’s Darius, shirtless and sprawled out on my sofa-bed with his phone in hand. My heart swells when I notice his toothbrush and phone charger sitting on the kitchen counter.

Eyes on his screen, frown on his face, he lifts one corner of the blanket, beckoning me to bed. “The wifi connection is pretty spotty over here,” he mutters.

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