Page 78 of Crazy Thing

“Okay. Compromise. Let’s go into town for breakfast,” I suggest.

She raises an eyebrow, suddenly looking nervous. “What? How is that a compromise?”

But I’m liking my idea. I just need to get her onboard. “Let’s go to the Pancake Village. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen buckwheat pancakes on the menu. Or maybe it was buckwheat crepes. Or buckwheat French toast. Or maybe even a buckwheat parfait.” I add with a laugh. “You could get one of each!”

Ziggy stands there, picking at her fingernails and hesitating. Why is she always so difficult?

“Damn. This is what I get after fucking you thoroughly last night? You don’t want to be seen in town with me?” I joke.

Or at least I’m trying to joke. But the look on her face tells me that I’m onto something.

Then it dawns on me. I realize too late that Ziggy believes thatIdon’t want to be seen withher.

My chest aches because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

But with the way that I treated her in the past, I can see how she may have come to that terrible assumption.

I climb to my feet and cross the space in a few large steps. I cup this beautiful girl’s cheeks in my palms. I speak slowly and softly, hoping to get her to really listen this time. “Ziggy, do you want to go to the Pancake Village with me? And before you answer, just know that—yes—I am asking you on a date. All the buckwheat you can eat, Fairy Girl.”

A slow grin curves across her lips. She leans in closer. Her breasts brush across my chest. It takes considerable strength not to reach out and massage her warm, naked globes.But this moment is bigger than sex and fooling around. I want to convey that I’m interested in her. For real.

“I’ll go on one condition,” she’s saying.

I feel my heart tingling with excitement. “Oh boy. What’s your condition?”

Ziggy’s smile grows devilishly and she points to her old-fashioned bike that’s hanging in the farthest corner of the bus. “Bicycles.”

My face falls.

32

ZIGGY

“Come on, slow poke,” Darius jokes. “My grandmother can bike faster than that.”

“That’s because she doesn’t have a grumpy boss who keeps her chained to a desk all day.”

“Oh, I could chain you to my desk all right.”

I roll my eyes as I catch back up with him.

We’re pedaling and laughing and teasing each other, as we ride our bikes into town. I’m on my vintage bike, and he’s on a newer ten-speed he found in his garage. Now that we’ve made it into the heart of town, everybody’s staring at us as we roll by.

Darius doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he looks like he’s actually enjoying himself. I know he didn’t plan on it—at least not when I conned him into riding bikes with me—but right now he reminds me of the fifteen-year-old Darius Brighton who I had a crush on years ago.

Boyish. Charming. Easygoing.I like it.

But it makes me realize that I’m also attracted to the grumpy, gruff side of Darius, too.

He’s just notDariuswithout all of his pieces, both light and dark and rough edged.

My legs are burning by the time we arrive in town. I bike a whole lot when I’m in Honey Hill; it’s my primary way of getting around. But I’m no match for Darius’s mega strong quads. Especially since all my limbs are deliciously sore from last night. And now that I know what those thighs look like beneath those pants…Well let’s just say, I veered off the bike path more than once today.

We make it to the diner in one piece, and we lock our bikes onto a pole out front.

As I’m double-checking my lock, Darius pulls out his phone. In my peripheral vision, I notice him aiming it at me. Then the click of a shutter fills the air.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” I ask, stepping toward him and self-consciously pushing sweaty hair back from my temples.

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