Chapter 3 Sugar
?Azalea?
"Why didn't you get anything?" I question the no-name who sits on the other side of the booth.
I got my all-time favorite: cookies and cream, aka Oreo. They're basically the same thing.
He crosses his arms and leans them against the table. I can't help but watch the way they flex and his beautiful tattoos.
"What's your name?" I question somewhat nervously, afraid he'll ignore me once again.
"Grey."
I nearly shiver at his voice. It's just so wonderful. I let a smile appear on my face.
"Azalea Delilah Carson," I tell him fully just in case he didn't hear me outside.
Now he knows my government name, that wasn't my best decision.
"Is your name short for anything, like Greyson?" I question, trying to get any kind of words out of him.
"No," he slightly glares. Woah, he must not like Greysons. Poor Greysons of the world.
"Where are you from?" I take a sip of my milkshake slightly getting an Oreo chunk stuck in my throat. I hold back from coughing it out, just taking another sip.
That'd be the worst way to die. To choke on an Oreo chunk in front of the most attractive man I've ever seen.
He clenches his strong jaw and I wince internally.
He just doesn't seem to like me at all really.
"Knoxville," he grumbles and I smile.
"Why are you asking so many goddamn questions?" His face turns back into a dark glare.
"Well," I fiddle with my straw, "I just like making new friends."
New friends? More like, I like trying to get even one friend.
"What makes you think I want to be your friend," his dark eyes search my face.
I think the opposite, quite honestly. I'm just surprised he's stayed here in front of me for this long.
"Everybody needs a friend," I smile, averting my bright green eyes from his.
I need a friend.
That's true for some. Sometimes, people don't want friends and they like to be alone. That's not me.
With all the thoughts that run through my head daily, I need someone to talk to or I may end up in a mental facility.
"Th-"
Before I can even finish adding onto my 'everyone needs a friend' argument, he shoots up from his seat. He grasps my arm and pulls me out of my seat, startling me nearly to death.
Now is where he robs me of my remaining two dollars and kicks me in the throat.
"Is everything okay?" I mumble as he drags me through an employee only door, a pain travels through my knee and up my leg but I try to ignore it.
I thought it would be better by now.
"Um, Grey?" I question softly as we finally come to a stop.
I look around to see a lot of milk, for milkshakes, and lots of fruit.
"Did you want some fruit, or..?" I face him again.
He looks out the small window of the door and my eyebrows furrow.
Oh no.
My keys. And more importantly, my milkshake.
"Grey, my keys are out there," I say only to get ignored.
"What if they get stol-" he cuts me off by pushing away from the door and coming to stand directly in front of me.
"Do you ever shut your mouth?" he asks pretty angrily.
I didn't know I had to. Pardon me for speaking my mind and trying to save my milkshake from its potential hungry kidnapper.
"Are those the only words you can say?" I question, referring to the multiple times he's already asked me that.
That question doesn't appear to make him happy. Not much seems to make him happy. Not even milkshakes.
It makes me wonder if dogs make him happy. Dogs make everyone happy but honestly, he doesn't seem like everyone.
He leans closer as his eyes fall over every part of me, "You couldn't handle everything I've got to say."
Oh excuse me, I'll have him know that I was told not-so-nice things to my face in high school quite often, I can handle whatever he's got to say.
Plus, I'm not too bad at hiding how I really feel. I've got a mean pair of big girl britches that are ready to be put on at any time.
"I can handle insults pretty well," I keep my chin up, trying to hide how doubtful I truly am.
A sinister smirk takes place on his lips and I keep myself from looking away from his handsome face.
Why does he have to be so attractive?
"I'm not talking about insults," my back hits the wall behind me, pain travels along the surface of my skin, and I nearly knock over a container of strawberries when he traps me with his strong arms.
Does this milkshake place literally have no workers in the back? What the heck?
Why am I feeling so nervous?
Maybe because he smells like what I envision heaven to smell like and his tattoo sleeve is oddly mesmerizing.
"What are you talking about?" I swallow nervously, having no idea what is going on in his unreadable mind.
His eyes narrow down at me slightly and he pulls away. My eyebrows furrow in confusion as his jaw clenches. He looks back out the window before turning back to me.
"Is there someone out there you don't like?" I recover, straightening my shirt that has fallen down onto my shoulder.
"They don't need to see you," he glances over at me and I bite my lip from the sting his words left.
I mean, I get I'm not the coolest person in the world but to not even want to be seen with me hurts a bit.
~~~
It's been twenty minutes. I feel slightly as if he's holding me hostage.
"Would it be stealing if I ate a couple of strawberries?" I question suddenly, eyeing the strawberries that sit right next to me.
I can smell them.
"Keep your mouth closed."
"I would if you told me why we're back here. I'm left sitting here thinking of my own reasons, and my mind can surely wander off sometimes," I warn him and his eyes come to rest on mine.
Good Lord, why are his eyes so enthralling?
He basically renders me speechless whenever he looks at me. Or he makes me talk extra, I'm not too sure yet, he's caused both things to happen.
"You get on my fucking nerves," he keeps his eyes on mine although his face isn't set in a completely deadly glare.
"And you have me in a supply room, how do you think I feel?" I speak my thoughts. This isn't exactly the ideal place to bring a friend, especially a new one.
"I could have you somewhere else," his eyes gleam a certain way and my head tilts in confusion.
"Well let's go there then, there's nothing to do here," I motion toward the door. He just looks at me with this unreadable look.
"You're oblivious," the tone of his voice turns dark once more. I swear this guy can't decide on being a little, tiny bit normal or mean.
"Grey."
"Lilah."
Lilah?
"It's De-lilah and that's my middle name. You're not the greatest listener in the world if I can say so myself," I tell him, holding back a small smile.
"Lilah," he decides in a final warning tone.
To be completely honest, it kinda tickles my pickle.
"Can I call you what I want?" I bite my lip to hold back the biggest smile in the world. Oh, this is just too good.
"No," his eyes fall down to my lips but I ignore that, now unhappy at the fact that I can't call him what I want to.
"I was going to call you Sugar."
There's a perfectly amazing reason behind the name Sugar. And it's not because Sugar is a cool stripper name.
'Sugar' fits him spectacularly because behind all that saltiness, I know he's got a least a little bit of sugar in him.
It may take some digging but I'm sure it's there.
I didn't notice the harshest glare that I think I've ever seen being sent my way.
He shoves past me harshly, knocking me back into a metal rack. Pain explodes where every lash my father sent me is located and I look up to the ceiling trying not to have a heart attack.
"What's wrong with you?" he pulls me off and away from the rack, glaring down at me.
Well excuse me, you're the one who knocked me into it.
He's like a bull in a china closet and I need to get out of here. I can only take but so many of his hateful glares. My big girl britches are slowly falling off.
"Is the person out there gone?" I recover from the pain but he still looks at me, a deep frown on his face.
"Yeah," he mumbles and I walk toward the door to leave. I feel his presence behind me as I look out the window to make sure no one will see us exiting the employees only door.
A second later, I feel his hand touch the small of my back.
I would blush but his hand on my back causes another wave of pain. I hiss and jump forward.
"Lilah-" I ignore him and just walk out the door, with him following close behind.
My heart does take a small skip at what he's decided on calling me.
I grab my keys from the table, which thankfully, were not stolen.
Thank you, Jesus.
Even better than that, my milkshake is still here. I bet it's melted into a more creamy milkshake but at least it's still here.
"Don't fucking walk away from me," Grey grumbles, following me as I walk out of Momma's Milkshakes.
"What happened to you?" he questions, his dark eyebrows pull into a deep frown as he steps in front of me.
I consider doing what he did to me and bulldozing right through him. It wouldn't work out well for me, I'd ricochet off of him.
"What do you mean?" I question him, admittedly playing dumb but not making it obvious.
"Don't be stupid," he glares.
I remain silent, just looking down at my feet.
"I fell off my bed," I smile up at him, using the same reason as I told Mr. Terrip.
He continues his glare and I shrug it off, it seems like his glares are just the normal.
"I've got to get going," I tuck my light blonde hair behind my ear, "Mr. Terrip is probably getting worried. He owns Terrip's Bookstore right down the road."
Grey remains silent, his dark eyes boring into mine, making me slightly nervous for the seven hundredth time today.
"You should come and check it out, if you want," I fiddle with the ends of my mid-back length hair, "I spend a lot of my day there, helping out and whatnot. Mr. Terrip is really nice, he's wise too."
"I feel like that went right over your head," I speak on the fact that he doesn't really appear to be listening to my words.
"I'm going to enjoy never hearing your voice again," his dark eyes bore into mine, proving my thoughts, as his face remains completely emotionless.