Amelia | ✔

4. Cuck-oo-Crazy Pants. .

Logan

*****

Okay, I'm just gonna come out and say it. The girl was Bat-Shit-Crazy, I'm not even going to beat around the bush about her questionable mental health.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I haven't met her kind before because God knows I would be lying if I said I didn't, considering the line of work I was in, but damn, she put all of the other coco-crazy to bed.

I saw her the moment she walked through the doors with Suzy and I remember thinking she was hot. I remember my eyes following the way her long, thick dark hair flowed past her shoulders against her back with every movement she made. I remember thinking you know what? Luke was right.

He'd told me Suzy would be coming with her best friend whom he wanted me to meet. He had told me she was cute and innocent. You know what Luke, my trusted buddy forgot to mention?

The friend was also an escapee from a loony bin.

When she and Suzy walked closer to our table, their hands holding ice-creams and smiles on their faces, basket case was the last thought in my mind. Attractive yeah, that's more like it, but the moment she stared at me with her dark eyes like she couldn't agree on whatever was going on in her head, alarm bells rang in my head.

The biggest mistake I made was to open my big mouth and ask if she was okay. I still think if I would have kept quiet and let her ogle away her thoughts or whatever, we wouldn't have escalated to where things got crazy.

So yeah, from that moment, crazy came out and I was not equipped to deal with it. A lot of shit was already going on with my life and I wasn't in the mood to mix hers with mine.

Alright, so perhaps I should address the thing everybody is wondering about. Here goes.

Yes, there was a brunette on that field earlier. That brunette moved at a speed of a broken snail and was not ready to pass the ball to anyone as if she was holding gold. And yes, I took the ball from her because I couldn't take it anymore.

Did I force it out of her hands? No. No, I didn't. You would never believe how easy it was to take it. The ball was practically falling off of her hands. Did I punch her? Absolutely fucking not. Did I remember it was her the moment she walked to our table? No, I did not. There was no way I would have and here is why.

The girl who was out there on the field was a tired, clad in dirt, barely moving an inch with a dirty messy bun on top of her head like a very bad made birds nest. The one standing furiously in front of me, however, was a different case. This one I would go so much as to say was beautiful. Crazy, but still beautiful. Long lashes that didn't even need mascara to call you to her. Perfect eyebrows, perfect pink, bow-shaped lips, eyes as dark as a night sky, and soft curves on her 5'7, 5'8 height. So, I think it's safe to ask, how the hell would I have known it was her?

I'm not a bad guy, I swear I'm not. Or at least I don't think I am. Whatever, the point is, no matter what, I would never punch a girl. I would also never just give my apologies to anyone who thinks I did something when I know I didn't. That's just not me and her suggesting it was just plain old crazy. I didn't even know her.

Oh, by the way, I know I said I'm not a bad guy and I would never hit a girl and all, but there is another thing I wouldn't do. I wouldn't just stand around and let anybody assault me for no good reason. Girl or not. Period.

She stood there with her blue, ripped boyfriend trousers and a white top as if she could take me head-on. Cute, but I seriously had to resist the urge to scoff in her face. I'd seen the moment she gathered her pretty little hand into a tight fist and let if fly my way. On instinct, I blocked it with my arm.