When Perfect Meets Crazy

Chapter 29: 28 - My long distance boyfriend

“What,” I spat, all but pouncing on my sister. “The. Hell.”

“You can yell at me later,” she said dismissively, hurrying me towards where our mom’s car was parked.

From my peripheral vision, I noticed Masked Idiot smirk lightly but I was too preoccupied with Olly to

bother with him.

“I can yell you later?” I hissed, disbelief at her nerve on my face. “I’m going to kill you later! What the

hell were you thinking!”

She flinched, shrinking away. Unfortunately, I was already on a roll. She had crossed one too many

lines for me to even try to keep my anger in check.

“Mom’s car!” I yelled, highlighting her transgressions. “You spoilt Mom’s car! At a tattoo parlor, Olly! A

fucking tattoo parlor! Are you trying to get me killed? Have you lost your--”

“I know!” she snapped, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I know,” she added softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t

think this would happen.”

She let out a sigh, sniffling quietly as she raised her head skyward to keep from crying. I swallowed the

‘clearly’ on the tip of my tongue and sighed. She really was born to test my limits.

Masked Idiot who had, till now, smartly stayed out of my line of sight stepped forward, flashing me a

‘what’s the plan?’ look. I sighed again, pinched the bridge of my nose and let my eyes drift shut for a

moment while I mentally regrouped.

I drew in a deep breath, opened my eyes and faced the problem; my mom’s car.

Olly mustered a wobbly smile. I returned it as best as I could but it came out forced and more grimace

than smile.

I turned away to survey the surroundings, taking note of; the purple tinge to Olly’s hair tips -how I

missed it so far was beyond me-, the two pierced boys leaning against the wall, blatantly

eavesdropping -not that I had made any efforts to be quiet in my rage- and the middle aged man

smiling sympathetically at Olly.

“Hey.” Masked Idiot broke the stiff silence that had descended with a crooked smile directed at our

audience.

I rolled my eyes to heaven and back, stifling the urge to sigh. Olly, finally getting a hold of herself,

stepped in to handle the introductions.

“These are Max, Trevor and Greg,” she said, gesturing to each one as she called out their name. “And

this is my sister and...”

“Ian,” he slid in smoothly.

She arched a brow, throwing a curious look my way. I pretended not to notice.

“Greg,” I said, turning to the middle aged shop owner. “What does my sister do here?”

“I help with the designs,” she piped up. “I sketch them on paper,” she quickly added before my mind

could go down the ‘you tattoo people?’ rabbit hole.

I arched an eyebrow, wordlessly communicating, ‘Did I ask you?’ to which she pouted and averted her

gaze to the floor.

Greg smiled.

“She’s pretty good at it too,” he chipped in.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. It was obvious she was good otherwise, why else would he have hired

a seriously under-aged freshman? Besides, as her sister, I knew better than he did how artistically

gifted she was.

I moved on, suspiciously eyeing the two boys I placed to be somewhere in their late teens or early

twenties.

“And you guys...?”

Trevor pushed off the wall and came to stand before me.

“I design. Like Olly. I also tat. Max tats and handles the books.” He stretched out a hand.

I eyed it distrustfully and readied myself to deny the proffered hand. Before I could though, Masked

Idiot next to me shook the proffered hand.

I just wasn’t a fan of unnecessary and avoidable skin contact.

“Nice to meet you,” he slid in smoothly.

“Yeah.” Trevor nodded, sizing him up.

Trevor had the tall lean build of an athlete. It worked with his delicate features to create an appealing

look. It gave him a lazy artsy vibe. Unfortunately, Masked Idiot moonlighted as a boxer so he was more

built and -luckily- tall enough to escape coming off as stocky. Bottom line, Masked Idiot won but it was

a close match. Trevor’s cobalt eyes almost put him in first place. Almost.

I, however, barely spared either boy a glance.

“What have you done so far?” I faced Olly, gesturing to the car.

“Nothing,” she answered.

“Smart.” I nodded in approval.

“She wouldn’t let us even take a look at it.” Trevor chipped in, closing the distance between us. “We

could’ve got her started,” he added gesturing between himself and Max.

I ignored his comment, catching Olly’s eye.

“Good call,” I mouthed soundlessly.

If they’d so much a touched the inner workings of the car, our mom would know the way mothers

always seem to know things. It was an annoying and seriously inconvenient superpower but there was

nothing Olly or I could do about it. It was a good thing she waited for me to arrive so I could make sure

everything was put back exactly how our mum left it when the repairs were finished.

“Open her up,” I ordered.

She complied but not before exaggeratedly rolling her eyes me.

“You sure you can fix it?” My question was directed to Trevor.

“Yeah,” he replied without hesitation.

I was completely sure he didn’t take the question seriously. He had no reason to. Olly and I, on the

other hand, had a lot riding on this. I bit my lip nervously, contemplating the pros and cons of letting him

have at it.

“Hey,” Masked Idiot nudged me, drawing my attention his way.

I arched an eyebrow.

“I can help,” he revealed.

The brow went higher. He rolled his eyes.

“I used to rebuild old cars with my dad when I was younger. I still do actually.”

“Of course you did.” I shook my head. “Rich people crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure normal people do that too,” he defended.

“Maybe,” I acquiesced. “But you said old cars and we both know what you really meant was vintage.

Which translates to expensive. I’m sure normal people don’t mean that or order fancy pricy spare parts

from Vermont.”

“Vermont isn’t really a car--”

“You get my point,” I interrupted, waving his rebuttal off. “But, yeah, sure. Have a go at it. And please

don’t screw this up.”

I took a mental picture of everything under the bonnet while Olly took several literal ones before we

both stepped aside to let the boys who were wondering why we were being so fussy get to work.

Greg and Max returned to the shop. Since there wasn’t much else Olly and I could do about the car

problem -I was really hoping it was just a displaced plug or something easily fixed-, I placed both hands

on my hips and faced my sister.

“A tint?” I hissed. “Really?”

She had enough sense to look sheepish as she fingered the ends of her hair.

“It’ll wash out before she gets back and I won’t let dad see. I promise.”

I started to tell her how stupid a risk it was but sighed and gave up before I got the words out.

“Good luck.”

She shrugged indifferently. That was pretty much Olly in a nutshell. My rebellious risk taking little sister

for whose mistakes I somehow always ended up being blamed for. It was insane that despite that, I still

loved her. The mind fuckery that came with having younger siblings. I shook my head.

“So, Trevor and Max, huh?” I shot her a pointed look.

“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes. “It may be a tattoo parlor but Greg runs a respectable joint.”

“You say joint now.” I smiled sardonically “Beautiful. I can’t wait for mom to find out.”

She rolled her eyes again but refrained from commenting.

“Max has a clichéd poetry loving emo girlfriend so calm down.”

“I wasn’t worried about Max. I’m worried about the one under the hood trying to fix mom’s car for you.”

“Trevor’s nice like that.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Whatever.” She flicked her wrist. “He’s not into me.”

“So you’re into him?” I extrapolated.

“I am not,” she refuted firmly.

I peered at her suspiciously, eyes narrowing until I was satisfied she was telling the truth.

“Good,” I declared.

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

I shot a text to the prom committee group chat that I’d be a bit late while we waited for the boys to

finish.

• • •

“Done,” Trevor announced, wiping his hands on his jeans before shutting the hood.

Ian mirrored the Trevor’s grin as he got out of the driver’s seat, leaving the engine running.

Olly and I exhaled audible sighs of relief before walking over to inspect their work and make sure every

bolt, screw and cork was exactly the way our mom left it. The boys watched silently, a confused frown

marring the face of only one. Masked Idiot knew enough about my family to be surprised only for a

moment.

“Thank you.” I smiled at both of them when Olly and I were done.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Trevor asked, taking a step towards me.

“I take it I should?” I frowned.

“I was two years ahead of you in high school.”

“Oh.” My brows furrowed. “You went to Claire Anne’s? I don’t remember you. Did we used to talk?”

“Not really.” He shrugged.

“Well..., that’s probably why. Anyway, thanks for today.” My smile was apologetic since I owed him for

helping out with the car.

He nodded.

“Anyway, I have to go. I have meeting that I’m kind of late to,” I explained apologetically before turning

to Olly. “Take the car home and leave it there.” My tone left no room for argument.

“I know.” She rolled her eyes.

I thumped her forehead before heading off to my car. Soon enough, Ian and I were driving off in my car.

“So,” he drawled.

“What?” I glanced his way. This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

‘“Trevor,” he said by way of an explanation.

“Are we speaking in one word statements now?” I arched a brow.

He rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

“He was flirting with you.”

“Three sentences is hardly flirting.”

“He was trying to get your attention the entire time we were working on the car.”

“Where are you going with this?” I raised both eyebrows.

“You didn’t flirt back,” he stated.

“I know what I did and didn’t do,” I drawled patronizingly.

He rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Finally, a question.” I condescended, unable to help myself.

At the dirty look he shot me, I smoothed my features into a somewhat serious expression. I owed him

that much for chipping in with the car.

“I don’t agree that he was flirting with me but to my knowledge, you don’t have to flirt back every time

someone flirts with you. If I’m correct -and I am- that’s called being a player or leading people on,

depending on the situation.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“As far as you know,” I corrected, even though at the moment, I actually did not have one.

“I’ve been following you for months now. I’d know by now if you had one.”

“We could be long distance.”

“You’re not but nice try,” he replied. “What I’m saying is, despite the tattoo parlor job, he doesn’t seem

sketchy. Almost nice even.”

“Says the actual sketchy ass criminal.” I threw a pointed stare his way.

“Have it your way.” He shrugged. “What’s your sister doing at a tat place anyway?”

I glanced at him, taking in his inquisitive frown that was more curious than judgemental. I might’ve hit

him if it had been the other way around.

“Rebelling.” I sighed wearily, wishing it was the other way around.

I wanted an excuse to not have to answer any follow-up questions and lashing out was always a

reliable door number 3.

“I guess it’s true what they say about strict parents and the kids they raise.”

“Yup.” I nodded, turning off the highway. “We are the wildest and most secretive group of kids.”