Chapter 17 Childish #2
He sets a real-live gun down on the table and I scoot my chair away from the table a little bit.
"That's real?" I question softly as he takes his jacket off. I swallow the drool in my mouth as his strong arms come into view. He sits the jacket down in the chair at the front of the desk before bending over down to his foot.
He comes back up with another gun in his hand. This man is seriously going to make me have a heart attack.
What happens if the gun suddenly goes off while it's on his ankle and his foot gets shot? Then he can't walk and he can't catch the bad guy. It's a lose-lose situation.
What's next? He pulls a freaking shotgun out his butt? Or maybe he even takes a knife he carries around out of his nostril.
He opens the closet that I looked at but never touched and there are more guns in there.
Thank Jesus I did not open that closet because I would have fainted.
"What took so long?" I question, looking away from the weapons.
"The woman threw her bags of fucking crack at us, threatened to kill herself if we moved, and after four hours, she passed out," he grumbles and my eyes widen.
And I called Grey a crackhead. Oop, I'm sorry Jesus.
"Did you save a bag of crack for me?" I blurt. He turns around and shoots me a glare.
"There's some on the bottom of my shoe if you want it," he recovers and I throw my head back in a laugh.
"We went through all that shit just because she's a known crack dealer," he comes closer to me.
"Never get high on your own supply," I mumble and he rolls his eyes, "that's why I buy mine. Or get it off the bottom of your shoe."
"You need to sleep," he says like I'm acting crazy or something. I'm wide awake.
Oh gosh. What if the crack particles from the bottom of his shoe flew into the air and accidentally got into my bloodstream?
I do have a little cut on my finger.
I begin standing. And only then do I realize how actually tired I am. I've been awake for 19 hours.
How is Grey even functioning? And looking gorgeous while doing it?
"You look like a child," he mumbles, coming over to me and taking the hood off my head. The hoodie does kind of drown me.
"Well, I'm not perfectly super tall and filled out," I say softly. I mean, I've got a little bit of a booty.
He pulls me around and we become pressed flush together. I look up at him and he looks down at me.
He trails his hands down my sides and stops them on my hips.
"You feel fucking perfect to me," he grumbles, his eyes set hard in seriousness. I feel my cheeks flush at his words.
Then again, he's been around crack particles all night and it's really early in the morning.
Plus, I'm sure if I talked to a dietician, they would say that I'm a pig and only a single lettuce a day would save me from all that I've already eaten.
In addition, it's very different being told that your body is 'perfect'. In high school, it didn't matter if you were the skinniest person in the school if you weren't liked, then you were called fat.
Jake always told me not to listen to them but I would still step on a scale and think, 'well, maybe they're right.'
But they weren't. And it took me two semesters to figure out that they were just doing whatever on earth they could to try and make me feel like I was lower and less than them.
I've never truly been confident in my own skin. I have a problem in the sense that I compare myself to the models I see on tv. 'Oh, my hips are too wide'.
'My hair is too long.'
'My stomach doesn't look the same as theirs.'
"My scars are ugly.'
I know I'm not perfect. Grey knows I'm not perfect. But I guess to him, he likes whatever I've got.
And that sends me on a whirlwind of crazy emotions that I've never felt before.
"Are you trying to get in my pants?" I whisper up to him, a little smile on my face. His lips turn up at the corners.
"It must be working if you're thinking about it," he leans down closer to me and I let out an amused gasp.
"Are you flirting with me?" I question him softly, my eyes on his lips. I feel his hand tilt my chin back up so that I'm looking in his eyes now.
"I think you're flirting with me," he voice gets quieter with his free hand, he lifts me up onto his desk. I let out an unflattering snort and I wince internally. I'm literally a pig.
"You're sure you want to fall in love with me?" I question. It's odd that he can sit here and listen to me snort. And eat a whole pizza. And listen to all my talking. And my nonsense.
"I'm already too far into it," he presses a kiss to my chin, "and I'm not slowing down anytime soon."
He raises my head and his lips are pressed against mine. Unlike the first time, this time is completely surreal.
His arms wrap around me, holding me as close as humanly possible, meanwhile, my heart has shapeshifted into butterflies.
His lips are softer than I remember and he's more gentle than I remember. Like he's nervous he'll mess up somehow.
I grip the side of his face and kiss him deeper. He needs to know that he shouldn't be all nervous all the time.
Our lips come together in a way that creates more sparks than fireworks.
I push away all the nerve-wracking thoughts that hit me.
He's much more experienced, that much I can tell. He's older, which plays a factor in the whole experience part.
I know that he doesn't just want me for what Aaron thinks. Or thought.
I've never looked at Grey as that type of person. He's always been truthful with me. And I may not know what he was like before we met, but that was before.
Before he wanted to fall in love.
As much as I've thought about it. I want to fall in love too. I've never been in love, and by the way he talks about it, he never has either.
It definitely wouldn't hurt to fall in love with the crackhead in front of me.
He's already come so far. He's learned things from me that I didn't even know he needed to be taught.
I don't think he understands that we're learning together. He and I are quite the teachers and students.
That sounded illegal and not right.
And even though he's still got his bratty moments, and his manners have never been existent, I wouldn't rather have any other best friend.
Even though he doesn't like me to use that term when talking about the two of us.
He already means a lot to me. And especially considering the kiss that is taking place exactly right now, I'm pretty far gone.
And these kisses are going to happen gosh darn more often.
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Thank you for reading! I changed my profile pic, peep my Corona bucket hat ;)
*Not edited*
Word count: 3185
-Ashlyn M.