Page 1 of Crazy for You
Prologue
Ipressed the button on my Fitbit as sweat trickled down my temples. The summer heat had been off the charts with high humidity that, according to the weatherman, would last well into next week. I usually didn’t mind sweltering temps as long as I was either on my skateboard, swimming in the ocean, or in an air-conditioned place.
Sadly, our AC had been on the blink, and I suspected it was broken. Dad liked to keep the electric bill as low as he could, which meant the indoor temp was high and not as cold as my bestie’s place. Georgia’s parents both worked at the local hospital. Her mom was a nurse, and her dad was an ER doctor, so they could afford to keep her home cool.
Still, I was tempted to grab my skateboard and hit the park, but Dad wouldn’t like me traipsing out at three in the morning. Not only that, but my junior year was starting the next day, and while I would love to do anything but sit in a classroom with students I didn’t care to know, I’d promised Dad I would do well my upcoming year.
High school sucked the big one. Drama galore, and then there was Grady Dyson. He was the ass of all asses, despite his good looks—tall, football beefy, thick blond hair that curled around his ears, and blue eyes. Most girls in school bowed down to him like he was a rock star. But I wasn’t one of them. The dude had hated me since the seventh grade. He’d stuck his tongue practically down my throat on a dare, and in turn, I’d kicked him in the balls. Then I’d spread a rumor about how awful his kiss had been. Girls had giggled and whispered about him that year. Since then, I’d been on his radar.
Oh, he was making me pay with the crap he’d said about me. I’d ignored the gossip my freshman year, but sophomore year, and one rumor in particular, had been a different story.
“Stay away from Lawson. She’s a terrible lay,” Grady had told his friends and anyone who would listen.
After that, guys looked at me funny or not at all. But I wasn’t one to back down. I’d stormed onto the football field during one of his practices and kneed him in the balls. I’d gotten suspended, but I considered it worth it.
I had no idea how I would keep my cool or bite my tongue, but if I didn’t want to sit in detention or get suspended again, I had to. Aside from Grady, I also had to pay more attention in class. My mind wandered too much. While the teachers lectured, I daydreamed, mostly about nothing or skateboarding—anything but math, English, and science.
My mom had died in a car accident two years ago, and neither Dad nor I had been the same since. It was hard to be happy after we’d lost the glue who held us together. Dad and I had tried to get our lives back to something resembling normal. We’d moved out of our old four-thousand-square-foot mansion that Mom had designed. Too many memories, although it was hard to forget the day we’d moved in. She’d been the happiest I’d ever seen her. Her bright blue eyes sparkled like the ocean on a clear summer day. Her smile had been infectious, and she couldn’t wait to show me my room. She’d had the entire house decorated with new furniture before we stepped into the grand foyer.
“We’re starting anew,” she’d said as she draped her arm around me. “You’re going to love this place, Skye.”
A tear escaped as I planted my feet on the scuffed wooden floor and rose. I missed the plush white carpet I’d had in my former bedroom. Hell, I missed so much, and memory after memory suddenly bombarded me. I sat down on the edge of the mattress and cradled my head in my hands. Every time I thought of Mom, another piece of my soul was ripped away.
Taking a deep breath, I got up once again. I couldn’t keep crying. I couldn’t keep making myself miserable. But it was hard not to shed a tear any time I thought of Mom.
Stella, my Maine Coon, purred from her perch on my chair in the corner.
“It’s okay, girl. Just thinking about Mom.”
She meowed as if she, too, was still mourning Mom. After we’d buried her, Stella looked for her everywhere. It had broken my heart to see her wandering aimlessly around for weeks.
“I know, girl. I’m still grieving too.” I turned on my nightstand lamp, and the soft glow shined on the dirty clothes piled on the floor near Stella.
I wasn’t the cleanest person. That award went to my BFF. Her room was immaculate, but then again, I didn’t have a maid who picked up after me.
I ambled over to Stella, then rubbed her head. “Go back to sleep. I’m just going to crack the window.” Maybe the air wasn’t so stifling outside.
A car door slammed as I was about to raise the blinds. I didn’t have to look out to know Mr. Caldwell, our next-door neighbor, was stumbling up his driveway.
Regardless, I peeked. Sure enough, he was swaying as he walked. The man had a drinking problem. I’d overheard his wife, Bonnie, telling Dad one day that, after his thirteen-year-old son drowned, Mr. Caldwell hadn’t been the same. “He drinks to drown the misery,” she’d said.
Dad and I could sympathize with their sorrow, but alcohol wasn’t the answer. Or at least that was what Dad had said to Bonnie.
The therapist Dad and I were seeing explained that everyone dealt with problems differently.
For sure.I daydreamed and cried. But I also read a ton. When I wasn’t skateboarding, I was reading. I devoured books like a hungry animal, from romantic comedies to political thrillers or anything to keep my mind from wandering down a deep, dark hole that I couldn’t get out of.
Dad, on the other hand, tinkered in the garage during his free time. He liked to fix golf clubs for some of his friends. And every Saturday, he played eighteen holes with his buddies. If he drank, it was never more than one beer.
Once Mr. Caldwell was out of sight, I lifted the window higher, hoping a brisk wind would blow in. Sadly, the humidity was too thick for anything to cool down.
I picked up my Stella. “How about we check the thermostat and then sit outside?”
We had one of those large wraparound porches, which was what had drawn Dad to our modest eighteen-hundred-square-foot home. He’d grown up in the deep South in a similar two-story with lots of land. We didn’t have a large yard, but the neighborhood was decent, and I liked the moss trees and the azalea bushes that decorated properties up and down our street.
I loved sitting in one of the rockers, watching cars and people walk by. I’d practically lived on the porch only to get a glimpse of the boy next door. Colton Caldwell was dreamy in every sense of the word. He had wavy brown hair, almost the color of mine sans the blond streaks. Colton was tall, with eyes the color of warm melted chocolate, and a sexy grin that made my belly swarm with butterflies.
Stella jumped out of my arms, then took off the moment my feet hit the cool tile at the bottom of the stairs.
