Free Some Sort of Happy (Skylar and Sebastian): A Happy Crazy Love Novel by Melanie Harlow

obsessive thoughts weren’t there, but they didn’t feel so huge or compelling. I was able to consciously file them in a compartment of my brain I thought of as the Fuck You I Don’t Care folder and be myself. On my good days, I could do that.
    It felt so easy to talk to her, and she was so sweetly embarrassed about her unintentionally dirty remarks.
    But I’d had an unintentional twitch in my pants when she put her hands on my chest, and I’d faltered when she mentioned my behavior from two weeks ago. I had no decent explanation. The truth was, not a day had gone by that I hadn’t thought about her.
    And then there she was. Chatting me up. Asking me for a drink. Expressing interest in where I lived. Wanting to come over and see it.
    And I’d handled myself just fine.
    I could have said no to the drink. I could have gone home, crossed Talk to Skylar Nixon off my list, called today one of my best days yet, and allowed myself a celebratory beer on the deck in one of my new chairs, most likely followed by celebratory jerking off to the memory of her ass in those yoga pants. (Twice, of course.)
    But the truth was, I didn’t want to be alone.
    Was it wrong to take her up on her offer just for a little company? Would it be too misleading? She was pretty and sweet, but dating was out of the question. She deserved better than me. And I couldn’t see her as a fuck friend, either. She was too good for that.
    Keep it in your pants asshole. She said a drink, that’s all.
    So while I selected and paid for my Adirondack chairs, I made up my mind to get to know her the way I wished I would have in school, and not to let either my attraction for her or my irrational fear of hurting her get in the way. I’d keep my compulsions in check, and stay in the moment.
    For a guy like me, it was a pretty fucking tall order.
    But today was a good day.
    • • •
    She pulled up next to me as I slid the heavy boxes containing the chairs into the back of my truck. “What do you think?” she asked through the open windows of an old Ford Explorer. It surprised me—I’d pictured a girl like her driving a much flashier car. Although her clothing today had surprised me too. I couldn’t ever recall seeing Skylar Nixon in sweats before. They looked good on her, though. She was small but curvy, not waif thin like a lot of the beautiful women were in New York. Skylar looked like the kind of girl you could go hiking with, but then you could take her out for ice cream afterward, and maybe she’d order a double scoop.
    It gave me an idea.
    “Hey, have you had dinner yet?” It was close to six, and I hadn’t eaten. A restaurant was always a trigger risk, but if ever I was going to take one, it should be on a day like today.
    “No.” She glanced at the plastic bag on the passenger seat. “I was trying to get this last chore done first, but I don’t care about it now.”
    “Would you maybe want to grab a bite?”
    She smiled. “Sure. Place?”
    “What do you feel like?”
    She thought for a second. “I wouldn’t say no to a cheeseburger.”
    “How about Sleder’s?” I suggested. “Meet there?”
    “OK. Or we could drive together,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll ride with you and you can drop me here afterward.”
    “All right.” I said it, but the hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I moved around to the passenger side to open the door for her.
    “Thanks.” She hopped up into the cab and I shut the door, my heart pumping a little too quickly for comfort.
    And then the voice spoke up.
    Maybe this was a mistake. Now you’ll be alone with her in your car, and—
    No. No. This is a good day. Please don’t ruin it, I begged the voice. Please let me enjoy her company without complications. One evening. It’s all I ask. One normal evening with a friend, the first one in a year.
    I slid behind the wheel and shut the door, feeling the tension in my shoulders, my arms, my jaw. Sticking the key in the ignition, I put both hands