Driving Me Crazy

Chapter Three

Charles

This girl is looking at me like she wants to bite my head off right now. To be fair, I was decently close to hitting her this morning, but I was running late. Fred Vasseur, my team principal, had called me earlier reminding me that I was an hour late for practice. The light had just turned yellow so I went for it, not knowing she would step out.

We got to Miami early this week in hopes of a bit of relaxation before the crazy weekend ahead of us. Instead of sitting in my hotel room eating chocolate and binge-watching Money Heist, I'm standing outside Target with an angry brunette. She looks to be about five feet tall, standing with her back to the cement building.  Her long brown hair can't tell whether it wants to be straight or curly. It's pulled back into a sleek ponytail revealing an adorable freckle at the base of her jawline. She sports pouty lips that are shining with a clear gloss and every time she speaks, her cheeks show hints of dimples behind her anger. The dark brown eyes stare back into mine with disgust as she processes what I just said to her.

"Well, don't you want an autograph?" I say, just to be sure she really doesn't know who I am. It's very rare that someone doesn't know me while we're on tour, especially since we go back to the same cities every year. Girls pretending they don't know us is not as uncommon as it should be and I'm half tempted to call her bluff right now.

"Just 'cause you funded my night off, doesn't mean you're a celebrity or anything, you psycho." She shoots back with an admiral smirk, showing that she's proud of her comeback.

Holy shit, she really doesn't know. I've never been able to start fresh with someone before. "What's your name?" I ask, not wanting to pass up the opportunity. She withdraws and shifts on her feet while looking around. After wrapping her left hand around her right arm, she begins to scratch at something that's not there. "Anxiety?" I think to myself.

"Why should I tell you, Romeo? I don't even know your name." She looks me up and down and changes her stance so that she's leaning against the wall, giving her an added look of confidence.

We are secluded in a corner outside of the building with my back to the street so nobody can see my face, except her. I have my hood up over my head and one hand in my pocket, despite it being 86℉. People walking by are talking loud enough for us to hear clips of their conversations, oblivious to other passersby. One person walked past with a speaker connected to their belt, singing Chase Atlantic's "Phases" at the top of their lungs, all while wearing entirely too much body spray to the point where my eyes began to water.

"Is Romeo really the best you've got? So generic for a Monegasque." I drone, leaning my body against the building while keeping my back to the street. We hear it a lot coming from American girls. The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet is one of the main things people think of when you mention Monaco, well that and Formula One.

"The Mona-what?" she replies. You can see the confusion in her eyes with the way her eyebrows tweak upwards in the center and when her head cocks to the left, her hair follows. It kind of reminds me of a dog, tilting its head when they hear a squeaky toy, in a good way of course.

I take a slight bow, mockingly, before saying, "A Monegasque is someone from Monaco. The accent, as I'm sure you've noticed." As I speak, her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. She breaks eye contact, and I see a flash of embarrassment on her face before she stands tall to talk again.

She flashes a slight smile and almost whispers, "Okay yeah, I see where that would be generic. I'm Katana, and you are?"

As I stand there thinking about how that name is perfect for her, my heart stops when I realize I can't tell her mine. If she looks me up on anything, she's going to instantly find out and it would ruin everything.

I try to think of a name but I'm drawing blanks, until I blurt out, "I'm, Theo. Nice to meet you Katana." Really? That's all you could think of?

She smiles brightly and a moment of silence stretches between us before I ask, "Katana, like the video game? Uhh, Mortal Kombat?" Quickly realizing that was a mistake, I snapped my mouth shut. Katana's face immediately turns red and her jaw drops in astonishment. Her reaction causes me to start laughing uncontrollably. I know I should stop but it's just too funny. She's absolutely pissed and it looks amazing on her.

"Seriously? Are you even capable of being nice? No, like the sword you asshole," Katana says with a sharpness to her tone, even though I can tell she's trying not to laugh with me. She tightens her lips into a line to avoid smiling in response to the tears in my eyes.

After a moment, she pushes off the wall in an attempt to walk away. While reaching for her arm, I say, "I am so sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I mean I did, I just didn't mean for it to be rude." Her eyes quickly flash to my hand on her arm before meeting mine again. I take the time to admire her incredibly soft olive skin before pulling my hand back and breaking our electric connection.

After shooting me a death glare, she decides to return to the place against the wall of the building. My eyes scan her face, noticing the pouty expression that I'm contemplating kissing right off of her just to see those dimples again.

The irrational thoughts in my head cause me to spit absolute word vomit when I say, "What are you doing tonight, other than drinking your body weight in tequila?" Hinting at the limes in her hand and the bottle still in mine. It was at that moment she again realized that I never actually handed it to her.

I see her eyes glance at the bottle in my hand and then back up my torso before making their way up to meet mine. There is a moment of silence between us until she smiles and asks, "What did you have in mind?"