When Perfect Meets Crazy novel Chapter 35

An awkward bit of silence passed and I finally looked up, meeting his gaze.

“I hate that.”

He blinked and stared back, not saying anything. I forced a smile, then averted my gaze, returning my attention to the desk unit as the most uncomfortable silence ever settled between us.

He cleared his throat, drawing my gaze back to him.

“Do you know what we should do?” he asked.

“What?”

“Screw her over,” he answered. “Seriously. You’re crazy smart. You can come up with a legit plan. I can help you carry it out. My sister had to deal with something similar too when she was young.”

“She’s just nine,” I said flatly.

“My older sister,” he clarified.

That made more sense but I still wasn’t interested. I understood the sentiment behind the offer and it was exactly why I was unwilling to accept it.

“Don’t pity me.” I rolled my eyes.

“Pity you?” He raised his eyebrows. “You?”

I shrugged. It was the reason he was oh so chivalrously offering to mess with Claire, wasn’t it? I wasn’t stupid nor was I interested.

“Whoever pities you is completely stupid and contrary to what you believe, I’m not. I know you’re tough. I’ve seen it. I know what you’re capable of.” He gave a one shoulder jerk. “I’m not denying that it must’ve hurt but I know you. I wasn’t even going to say sorry.”

I arched one eyebrow, disbelief coloring my face specifically at the last part of his statement.

“You heard right.” He held my gaze. “You’ve insulted me way too often for me not to know you have a tough skin. Remember all the times you outright called me dumb. Not to mention the times you implied it.”

A gasp of surprised laughter bubbled out of me. He shrugged and I found myself smiling in genuine appreciation.

“I used ‘idiot’ more than any other adjectives,” I corrected. “For accuracy’s sake.”

He rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips. My answering smile was so wide it made my cheeks ache.

“I have a question.” His expression suddenly turned serious.

My smile collapsed.

“What?”

“I’d ask Claire myself but it feels like a touchy subject so I’d just rather ask you than go behind your back. I’ve seen you in action so I’d prefer to not be a target.”

“What you want to know?” I asked reluctantly.

“Claire. How did she manage to pull one on you? You have eyes in the back of your head. I want to know how she did it.”

I released the breath I had been holding, relief flooding through me. All that anxiety for nothing. He really needed to stop building up to questions or confessions and just outright say whatever he had to say. Who builds up to random only mildly invasive questions, for the love of God? I shook my head exasperatedly.

“You’re insane,” I stated.

Suddenly, all I wanted to do was laugh. So I did. But once I started, I couldn’t stop. The whole while, I was conscious of Ian’s confused gaze on my face. Still, I kept laughing.

“No seriously,” he pressed.

I could see why that nugget of information would be important to him, especially since he’d never successfully pulled one on me himself but in the face of everything, there was something intrinsically hilarious about the idea that an undercover special officer was avidly interested in how to pull one over a sixteen year old high school student.

Somehow, I managed to quiet down for a moment.

“I was quiet in middle school. Harmless,” I answered, forcing myself to swallow what was left of my laughter.

At the word ‘harmless,’ he flashed me a skeptical frown. I smiled.

“It’s true,” I reaffirmed. “I grew up smart and when you’re that smart from a young age, you naturally become the teacher’s pet. You have people comparing others to you. Saying how you’re smart, not disruptive and things like that. It warps you a little bit.”

I shrugged, doing my best to ignore the sudden bout of self-consciousness.

“You start feeling like you always have to be just that - smart, quiet, not disruptive- all the time.”

He nodded slowly.

“So,” I said brightly, shaking the melancholy off as best as I could. “I was quiet and not disruptive the way smart kids always are. It was part of what spurred my rebellious phase on.”

He nodded, staring at me like I was something he couldn’t quite fully understand.

“Every time I think I get you.” He shook his head.

I overlooked his uncalled for internal reflection.

“I wanted to stop feeling like all I had was because I was good at school and a model kid at home. Like it was all conditional and would all go away the second I failed. Or the second I stopped conforming.”

I heaved a sigh.

“So I started acting out.” I shrugged. “I stopped studying. Stopped doing everything I was supposed to.”

My gaze found his.

“I’m confused.” He frowned. “You’re pretty much every parent’s dream child. A straight ‘A’ Harvard bound student.” His eyes narrowed. “Tell me this is not what you look like rebelling.”

“No. Of course not.” I laughed heartily, shoving him lightly. “I stopped because it wasn’t working out the way I wanted.”

“What?”

“It backfired.”

“How does rebelling backfire?” He scoffed.

“Mine did.” I shrugged. “My parents started fighting about me. About whose fault it was. About everything really. They also started focusing their efforts on Olly. You know, to at least secure the other child before she ‘got out of hand like me’.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “They were stifling her. She was miserable. Picture trying to turn Isabelle into Alec.”

“Isabelle?”

“Lightwood.” I clarified.