Crazy Hearts

Crazy Hearts Tease Book Two Copyright © Copyrights reserved 2023 Lisa Helen Gray Edited by Stephanie Farrant at Farrant Editing Cover Design by Dark City Designs No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is a violation of the international copyright law, which subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment. This book is licensed for your enjoyment. E-book copies may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share with a friend, please buy an extra copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are all products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments is purely coincidental. CONTENTS PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE EPILOGUE PROLOGUE Gabby A great woman once told me: if you can dance and be free, without caring what others think, you can rule the world. I don’t know who the fuck she was. I was drunk at the time. But I do remember those words—and that I had a blast that night; so, she must have been right. As for ruling the world… well, let’s just say, the only thing I ‘ruled’ the next day was the toilet. I made it my bitch. So here I am, decked out in a jumper that reached my knees, dancing to my heart’s content. It’s my favourite jumper because in bold format on the front, ‘I can’t even think straight’ is written in bright rainbow colours. The only other pieces of clothing I’ve adorned are my black boxers and grey, thigh-high socks, since they make it easier to move around in my small, one-bed flat. My light brown hair with highlights is pulled up into a loose, messy bun. Tay Tay’s Shake it Off switches over to You Need to Calm Down, and I move like a badass bitch ready to take on the world. Or maybe just my neighbour. We all need to start somewhere. You see, my neighbour isn’t like any other neighbour. You can’t knock on his door to borrow sugar or stop to gossip about what drama happened outside. He’s a class-A dick. I hope he gets thrown into a shark infested pool and ripped to shreds. And that’s me being kind. When he moved in, I made the mistake of welcoming him to the small block of private rented flats. He misconstrued my greeting and assumed I wanted him. And stupidly, because I didn’t want to embarrass the fool—since he was doing that to himself enough—I respectfully declined. The second time, I was embarrassed for him. It didn’t stop him from persistently asking me out. I even once told him I was healing from a flare up of vagina acne, and he smiled at me like I told him my vagina birthed gold. Nothing I did got rid of him. So, when he started making jokes to his friends, saying I was begging him to give me a chance, I told him he didn’t have the right anatomy. Seeing him confused by my statement, I elaborated—being the kind and wonderful person I am—and told him I lick pussy, not suck dick. And I happened to do it loudly and proudly. He’s hated my existence ever since. At first, I thought it was because he’d been embarrassed in front of his friends. But I’ve come to learn that he despises the LGBTQ community. We go against everything he stands for. That kind of hate didn’t come from a lesbian turning him down; it was taught. His uncle, who has tried to find reasonable excuses to evict me, is proof of that. Because before my sexual orientation was revealed, I was his best tenant and he joked often about paying me to live here. Anyway, in the early hours of this morning—a time of day he loves to disturb me—the prick next door thought it would be funny to blast homophobic music and sing it at the top of his lungs with his friends. On a fucking weekday. I have work later on tonight. No one needs a sleep deprived Gabby shaking her tits and arse in their face. The last time I went into work tired, I talked a groomsman into stripping for me, then got so bored, I fell asleep. Woods didn’t appreciate picking my sweaty arse up out of the booth. And Dave hated that he had to give free drinks to a bunch of tossers. What brings me joy is that the prick next door doesn’t know I bought noise cancelling headphones last month. Because whilst the music and banging on the walls is a common occurrence, it’s not the only sound I have to drown out. The ill-behaved individual likes to make over the top animated sex noises during sex. I’ve never heard a girl, but then, if I had that rocking above me making those noises, I’d be doing all I could not to laugh, while praying for him to finish. Banging on the door vibrates across the room and causes a picture I have hanging on the wall to slip and fall. Luckily, I never bothered to replace the wooden picture frame that once hung there. Now, whenever the canvas falls, I don’t have to worry about glass breaking or the frame