Chapter 11 Jake
?Azalea?
This morning, I've successfully hidden from Mr. Terrip's sight. I made sure to wear my hair down in front of my face to keep extra precautions in case he did see me.
Dad lost his job. So he drank. And drank. He 'accidentally' pushed the side of my face into the wall. Then he drank more.
I hardly slept last night.
I'm not sure how much more of it I can take.
The bruise that sits right on top of my cheekbone was not-so-easily covered by makeup. My foundation is light and not full coverage.
Thank goodness I only get pimples rarely. Or hickeys. Why hickeys? I've only had one hickey in my entire life.
Grey. The man who I've decided to not talk to until he gets his stuff straight. But it's not actually like I can keep my big trap shut.
A book called Satan comes into my view.
I didn't know Grey Kingston had a book written about him.
I feel utterly terrible for comparing Grey to the Devil.
An hour and a half into dusting the top of the tall bookshelves, the bell above the door rings. After a minute I feel a presence behind me.
"You're going to hurt yourself," a low voice mumbles behind me and I sigh. How does he know? Maybe I was a circus balancing act in a past life.
I adjust my footing on my ladder and peek down at him a little. He's looking up at me, a sweet tea in his hand.
My heart melts a bit but I suck it up and turn back around.
Did he bring that for me? Stop.
I finish dusting the shelf that nearly reaches the ceiling and now I've got nothing to do up here. What do I do? I dust that boy again.
"How many times are you going to dust it?" he questions and I figure that if I throw one of my legs back, it could possibly hit him in the face. But then I'd probably fall so I get rid of that thought.
I hear him set the tea down in a space on a lower shelf. Then I feel his hand on the side of my thigh. I look down and he's standing right under me, his dark eyes staring up at me.
I'm glad I'm not wearing a skirt toda-I'm wearing a dress.
"Are you looking at my goodies?" I question down at him and he doesn't move his eyes from mine as they take on a mischevious glint.
"You want me to?" his thumb rubs against my thigh and I nearly shiver.
I'm supposed mad at him, remember?
I begin climbing down. Struggling a bit due to my leg and he sees that. He grabs me by my waist and places me gently on the ground.
I walk away from him, going to dust a short bookshelf that only reaches to my chest. I feel him come up beside me and I let my hair fall, covering my face.
My heart begins beating wildly when he wipes it away, tucking it behind my ear. I untuck it and let it fall again. He lets out a harsh sigh.
"Want a milkshake?" he attempts and I huff, staying quiet although he's making it hard.
"Talk to me," his hand rests on my hip. I move out of his grasp.
"How do I know you won't be mean?" I question quietly, not looking at him. He grabs my arm and pulls me to him gently. I make sure my hair stays in front of my cheekbone just in case.
"You're not stupid," his dark eyes bore into mine, recalling his words yesterday.
"I take care of myself just fine," I murmur, also recalling his words from yesterday.
"I know you do, look at you," his voice takes on a certain tone. Not necessarily a friendly one.
"I'm fashionable ain't I? You like it?" I hold out the bottom of my pale pink sundress, showing him.
I notice his bottom lip roll into his mouth. Woah. He gives me a nod and his hands reach to grab me. I grab them before they get to my waist. His jaw ticks as his dark eyes stay fixed on my torso.
"I'm not one of your guy friends," I tell him, leading his hands back down at his own sides. His eyes fall back on mine.
"You're not," he agrees, an emotion swirling in his eyes. It makes me happy that he doesn't hold that emotionless mask up.
"So you can't just say things that are mean y'know?" I finish.
And you can't kiss other girls in the spot where you kissed me. Or anywhere.
"I'm trying."
"I know that," I nod. I can see how he's already trying to fix what he did and how he acted in before. I mean, he brought me a sweet tea!
His hands fidget before they grip onto the tan hair tie around my wrist. I've noticed he does that quite a bit.
"Can-" he cuts himself off, shaking his head as if the thing he was going to say was dumb.
"Hm?" I hum, tilting my head up at him. He looks between my both of my eyes.
I want to smack his butt. Stop.
"C-, hug?" he mumbles and a smile takes onto my lips. He's trying.
I wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts me in a hug. He lowers me after a minute and hands me my sweet tea.
"I left mine on your floor yesterday," I mumble, feeling bad.
"It showed me I was a dick," he mumbles, "to you."
I take a sip of my tea.
"Are you doing anything today?" I question, admittedly quite shyly. I'm a little nervous he may turn on me any time.
He shakes his head and I almost laugh. Doesn't he own a restaurant?
"We should go somewhere," I tell him. I haven't been on a good little drive to anywhere in a long while. Although riding makes me nervous, the destination can always make me look forward to something.
"Don't you have a car?" he questions out before muttering a quiet curse.
Dad took away my keys last night. I was too scared to ask for them this morning. I had to walk here. At least it was a nice day today.
"I didn't mean it in a- that wasn't supposed to be...mean," he struggles and I let a small smile reach my lips at him.
"Let's go," he gives up, gripping my free hand. Little butterflies flutter in my belly. Mr. Terrip sees us walking out. He gives me a smile and a little wave. Crazy old man.
Grey opens the door for me and I'm a bit shocked. Who taught him that? He helps me a bit after I struggle to get my injured leg in the Jeep.
When his hand grazes my butt, I feel a little turned on. Stop.
I feel like it would be difficult if I was a guy. How do you stop a boner? When you get turned on, it shows.
I get turned on by looking at his hands, I'm thankful that I don't have a penis.
I'm not too sure he would be thankful if I had one. Or maybe he is. I hope not though.
"Do you like peepee? A little?" I ramble out. It sounds idiotic when it leaves my lips. I need to quit calling it a 'peepee'.
Before he can say anything, I rephrase my question.
"Do you like peters?" I think that's still really bad.
I finally look up at him. He's leaned against the side of my seat, the door wide open. His head is tilted back and to the side, his eyes watching me intensely.
He places his hand on the top of my seat and he steps forward before placing his other one on the space between me and the armrest console.
"You know I want to fuck you, right? Only you," he says and I intake a breath as his eyes dart down to my lips.
This is the furthest thing from friendly he could say. But gosh darn it if what he just said doesn't make me want to think unfriendly things right back.
"That answer your question?" I give him a nod, still in a bit of a trance. A little smirk graces his lips and I grow wings and fly to heaven.
He backs up and grips the seatbelt, pulling it across my body.
"Not friendly, was it?" he leans close to me as he clicks it in.
"No," I say a little breathlessly. His eyes return to mine before dropping down. His tattooed hand reaches up and takes my bottom lip away from my teeth. I didn't even notice I did that.
He shuts my door and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Only you.
~~~
I mentally trace the intricate designs of his tattoos before lifting my gaze to meet his cold, dark eyes as my mouth continues on its non-stop ramble. "Shut up," his deep voice startles me, stopping my consistent chatter.
"Sorry," I smile sheepishly as his cold stare burns through me.
I should consider hushing. The light turns green and he continues.
I'm not sure I've stopped talking our whole thirty minutes on the road. I don't even blame him for telling me to shut up.
"Sorry," he apologizes after a minute of silence which shocks me a bit.
"I was talking a lot, it's okay," I shrug my shoulder and he shakes his head.
"I was thinking," I begin again, a little giggle escaping my lips, "is your favorite color gray? that would be funny."
He doesn't laugh but I laugh enough for both of us.
"Don't have one," he gruffly replies and I let out a soft gasp. I look over at him, seeing his strong inked arm resting on the armrest and his other one steering effortlessly.
I admire for a second the veins in his arm.
"I'll help you then," I decide.
"What color do you find yourself most content looking at?" I question like some sort of therapist.
"Green," he says shortly.
"Poop green, tree green, traffic light green, light green," I list off as we come to another light. He looks over at me. He peers into my eyes for a minute.
"Emerald."
"Oh, like the birthstone?" I smile. His eyebrows furrow in the littlest of bit before they return to normal.
"Sure," he answers. My stomach growls a little bit.
"We should eat somewhere," I say, "If you want. My stomach is going to start sounding like a baby whale soon."
He turns off the road and we come to a pizza place. I'm glad he didn't ask me where I wanted to eat. I wouldn't know what to tell him quite frankly.
"Good?" he unbuckles his seatbelt and I smile giving him a nod. He gets out and I open my door. I slide to the edge of my seat, bracing myself to make the jump.
I don't get to as he comes to my side.
"Don't do that," he warns me grumbly, "your knee."
He places me on the ground and we walk in. The smell of pizza hits my nose and I almost break out in a dance.
Following the sign that tells us to take our own seats, we do. We sit in a booth and there are already menus on the table.
His foot bumps into mine. He's got some gosh darn long legs.
"How long are your legs?" I blurt and he looks up at me from his menu.
"Nevermind," I mumble, looking down at my menu. I want a pizza.
And Grey. Stop.