Page 166 of Crazy for this Girl

I’ve met the devil in my sleep, and he wanted me to die.

“You don’t have to be here, Laynee. I won’t show up for dinner.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I press my chest into her back, feeling a slight shiver betray her.

I’m not totally crazy in this like I am with everything else.

I hurt her, but she still cares about me.

“I’d love for you to ask me yourself,” I say as I inhale her rich floral scent.

“Now you’re just pushing it, Harper.”

“Harper?” I chuckle deep within my chest, weirdly loving when she’s in one of these moods. It’s the only thing that reminds me that she’s still her and that we used to be something amazing to each other. “Now you’re officially really mad at me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to do my work Monday morning…through emails.”

“I’m not worried about that, Laynee.”

“You should be,” she bristles, looking at the siding of my house. “I’ve only thought about over a dozen things I could do to make your life a living hell.”

“Care to tell me a few?”

“No.”

“Is one of them having a conversation with me while your back is turned?”

“No, but I’ll add it to the list.” I grip her bicep and turn her around before pressing her spine into the ligneous siding of my cabin.

“What part was too much?” I press. “You’re frazzled.”

“I’m not.” She flicks her light blues to me. “I just thought I was going to have a quiet weekend.”

“With your brother and mother here?” I lift a knowing brow. “Laynee…you know better than that.”

“I’m used to that. I’m not used to you being here wrecking everything.”

“And how many times have you visited since I’ve been gone?” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest to keep me at bay. “Exactly.”

“Exactly, what?”

“You’ve been here exactly how many times I have.”

“So, zero for you.”

“A few for me. You weren’t here.” She narrows her eyes, and I’ve officially added on another strike to my record. “I’d wish you were. It’d make it easier being in this setting.”

“It’s harder in this setting. Every memory and conversation we ever had mocks the shit out of me.”

“It was a timeout.” It was bullshit. “But now we’re adults and can make up for it.”

“I don’t want to make up for it,” she clips out. “I want to work and get paid and get away from you afterward.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Completely.” She sighs. “Are you coming to dinner or not?”

“I don’t like your attitude and you’re judging me with half a story.” I shrug. “So, if you ask me, I’ll think you actually want me there.”

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