When Perfect Meets Crazy

Chapter 36: 35 - Why are you still following me?

“Okay,” Ian sat up, “that wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. Isabelle is hot.”

I rolled my eyes and moved to close the laptop. We just finished watching the first season of Shadow

Hunters and of course ‘Isabelle is hot’ was the most important part for him. Cue my infamous eye roll.

“I see what you mean though,” he added a few beats later. “You and your sister are a bit like Alec and

Isabelle but, you know, the watered down version.”

I bit my lip, considering his opinion.

“I see how I seem like an Alec but I think I’m more Isabelle than Alec. Not regular Isabelle though.

Isabelle when she was trying to be responsible and uptight so their mom could get off Alec’s back.” Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

At his confused frown, I added, “You haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Oh.” He nodded and moved to help clear up our mess. “Why were you on me to watch it anyway? You

kept making snarky comments about everything they did. Mocking them.”

I paused, pursing my lips contemplatively.

“I wasn’t mocking,” I replied, picking up what was left of the popcorn while he folded the afghan. “I

wasn’t mocking. It was more like constructive criticism. I like the show. It’s like..., My way of showing

affection.”

“Well, your way of showing affection involves lots of insults and backhanded jabs,” he informed.

I shrugged.

“Hang on a second.” He straightened up, eyeing me with a mischievous glint. “If that’s your way of

show affection, am I to infer that you being abrasive to me is bec--”

“Nope.” I cut him off as soon I realized where he was heading. “No. Not even a little.”

“You just said--”

“I also just said no.” I turned my back to him, effectively ending the conversation while I pretended I had

things to do on this side.

There was nothing to do.

“If you say so,” he chirped.

Asshole.

“Are we done here?” I asked, putting away my laptop.

It was phrased like a question but it was a dictate. I was telling to him it was time to leave.

“Why?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Hot date?” He pinned it on jokingly to ease the accusation as

though he only just remembered he no longer needed to be suspicious of me, that we were past that

stage.

I faced him, placing one hand on my hip.

“Why are you even still following me around? By now, you have to have figured out that I’m not going to

blow your cover and that I’m not involved in your drug trafficking syndicate.”

“Maybe but I’m not the only one involved and you know more about it now than ever. I can’t just let you

go.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s Townsend’s call, not mine. He’s not going to let you off just because

you seem harmless.”

Something about the way he said it didn’t seem like the full truth but I didn’t have the time nor the

inclination to pursue it.

“I’m not under arrest.” I rolled my eyes, dismissively walking to my closet.

Honestly, it’d be weird not having him around. I was used to his constant presence. He had grown on

me. A lot more than I’d like to admit. It would be quiet without him and while I liked quiet, his company

wasn’t such a bad trade-off.

“Party,” I divulged, pulling out a pair of barely ripped jeans that only ever see the light of day when my

mom is away.

One could hardly see my thighs through them unlike the one Olly got which was as ripped as ripped

jeans went. It showcased blocks of her thighs but her argument when we bought them was ‘go big or

go home’ since it wouldn’t matter how ripped it was if our mom caught us in them. We’d be in big

trouble anyways so according to her, we might as well embrace the wild side.

It was a sound argument but I would still much rather dip my feet in than dive in head first.

“Huh?”

“I’m going to a party,” I clarified. “You asked if I had a hot date.”

“Oh.” He blinked, silence descending.

I met his gaze through the mirror, then looked away. He dramatically heaved a sigh and threw himself

onto the bed.

I ignored his cue.

He sighed again like he had been bored for over a century and splayed his limbs out across my bed.

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes, stifling the urge to giggle. “Want to come with?”

He grinned boyishly, eliciting another eye roll from yours truly.

“Don’t you have practice to be at or a drug network to unravel?”

“Things have been slow lately. It’s been quiet after the last time.” He gestured to his mostly healed left

eye. “And I have only two matches around the corner and I’ve beat those guys before. Anyway, it’s

Friday and my next match is next Friday. A full week away. I do whatever I want tonight.”

I glanced over my shoulder, taking in his outfit; a dark green plaid shirt worn over a blue t-shirt and

jeans. It was an uninspired look but he wore it like a model.

“You can come.” I nodded my approval.

“I didn’t peg you for a party person,” he mused.

I didn’t bother dignifying it with a response. Because I was intimidatingly smart didn’t mean I couldn’t

kick back. One doesn’t become a force to be reckoned in high school by simply being smart. I dressed

well, partied and had quite the varied bunch of friends.

“I’m going to take a shower. You’re going as you are, right?”

He nodded.

I showered and dressed in the bathroom, leaving Ian to entertain himself.

Running my fingers through my hair, I mentally flipped through my styling options on the way back to

the room. It was time for a long term protective style. My hair had been in short term styles for almost

three weeks now.

“Took you long enough.” Ian jumped to his feet.

“I was barely twenty minutes,” I answered, hooking my towel on the hanger before I turned to face him.

“And with you here, I had to dress up in the bathroom.”

“Twenty minutes is more than eno--” He dropped off abruptly, eyes widening as his gaze finally took in

my appearance.

“What?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nothing.”

My eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Better be,” I murmured, absently taking note of how his darkened gaze was still fastened on me.

“What?”

He averted his gaze, partly turning his back to me. I rolled my eyes and took a seat at my dresser.

“I’ll just pack my hair, then we can go. We’re meeting Olly there.”

“Leave it.” His voice came out deeper than normal.

“It won’t take long.” I rolled my eyes.

“It looks good down. You never wear it down.”

Something about the way he said rubbed me wrong but I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. It was a

harmless observation for the most part.

“Fine.” I half-heartedly agreed, giving myself a last once-over in the mirror.

Luckily, my curls were still defined enough to let my hair down.

I turned away from him to straighten the camisole I was wearing underneath the sequined sheer top I

had chosen. Then I slipped on earrings and a wristwatch, and looked myself over again. It wasn't

‘there’ yet.

I frowned at the image, tilting my head sideways. I pursed my lips, my brows coming together as I tried

to figure out what was missing. Why the look wasn’t quite coming together. What is it?

I expelled a breath noisily through my mouth, chewed on my lower lip, and then tried tucking in the front

ends of the top.

“Better,” I declared, glancing at Ian through the mirror for affirmation.

I found him already staring at me, an indecipherable expression his features.

“What?”

I looked good. I knew I did. So why was he staring at me like I had unexpectedly grown two heads?

He swallowed self consciously, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“You said... you said we were meeting Olly?” He still didn't meet my gaze even as he asked.

I rolled my eyes.

“Stay with me, Carrington.” I snapped my fingers and moved away to get my black boots.

“Carrington?” He arched a brow.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” I said innocently, meeting his gaze as I slipped on my boots. “It’s supposedly a

friend of Max who’s throwing it,” I informed him.

“Tat parlor guy?”

I couldn’t see his face but the tone of his voice made it clear he was surprised and not at all on board

with the development.

“Let me guess,” he said sourly. “Trevor invited you?”

Surprised at his tone, I glanced at him over my shoulder, flashing him a frown.

“Last time, you were on me about not flirting back and now you have a problem with him?”

“I don’t.” He shrugged stiffly.

“You’re still a horrible liar.” I shook my head, directing my attention to lacing up my boots. “Also, not that

it’s any of your business but Olly invited me. She wants me to see that they’re -to put it nicely- not

delinquents.”

I finished with my boots and got to my feet.

“Unlike you,” I added because I couldn’t not.

He scowled darkly. It surprised me. He was usually better at taking my jabs. This was out of character

for him.

“Oh-kayyy,” I drawled, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you hormonal now? Because I don’t think it

happens to guys.”

He flashed me an unimpressed look that bordered on hostile.

“Okay.” I held up my hands in the universal sign of surrender and even took a step back for good

measure. “Backing off.”

I had no idea what his problem was but I wasn’t about to be target practice for a verbal sparring. It was

just easier to avoid the altercation even though there was no way I’d lose to him.

Besides, I could just ditch him once we got to the party if he kept the attitude up.