Lilah

Chapter 21 Sway

?Azalea?

Sometimes I wonder why bad things happen to me. And why they happen quite frequently.

And why they have to be the worst things possible.

I'm hyperventilating. I'm panicking. Grey's trying not to judge but I feel like that's a very hard task.

I knew sometime this would backfire.

Oh God, please help me.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Grey, dad's here. He's downstairs," I stress. At least Grey parked across the street.

"I'll just leave," he mumbles like it's no big deal. And I can't even explain to him that it is a big deal.

"No! Unless you leave through the window," I wince.

"Like some fuckin' spider monkey? Who do you think I am?"

"He can't see you," I add and his jaw ticks.

"The fucking window? What are you so scared of?" his eyebrows furrow.

"What's the worst the guy's gonna do? Ground you? Come on, Azalea. We're together, is he ever gonna find out?"

My head hurts from my mind conflicting with itself. I don't know what to do, what to say, or anything.

"You're going to make me cry," I whisper and he sighs. He pulls me to him and he kisses the side of my head.

"I don't want to get in trouble. I don't like getting in trouble," I say metaphorically. I don't like getting welts on my back.

"Why don't I just stay here until he leaves again?" he tries.

"He won't leave until late tomorrow," I shake my head, "and you said you have to work in a little bit."

"You really want me to leave out the window?" he grumbles.

"I'm really, really sorry, and I know it's selfish for me to not want to get in trouble but I just-" he shuts me up with a kiss.

"It's not selfish. It's okay," he nods and I sigh. He licks his lips.

"Give me one more 'fore I go," he leans in, his eyes focused on my lips. I lean in the rest of the way.

I shoot away from him upon hearing my bedroom door being opened forcibly.

"I knew I heard someone else in here," dad's sober voice enters my room.

He's sober.

My heart falls. He glares at me evilly and I attempt to calm my breathing.

"I-I'm sorry," I whisper loudly enough for me to hear him.

"You should be sorry," his nose flares in anger. He turns his attention to Grey who sits beside me, not knowing what to do. But his face is nowhere near happy. Dad's tone is far from how a father should talk to his daughter.

He's trying his best to not glare at dad.

"You, get the hell out of my house," dad points his finger in Grey's face which only irritates him more, "you goddamn punk."

Grey takes his time as he pulls his boots back on. Who knew Grey was a petty man?

"This is the guy? This lowlife?" dad sneers down at me and I shrink away.

Too scared to even defend Grey.

Why does everyone think so terribly about Grey? He's nothing like they think.

"Stay away from that child," not his daughter, but that child.

"She's not a fucking child," Grey sneers right back, standing up and looming over dad's 5'11 height.

"What gives you the right to curse at me in my own home?" dad tries to stand his ground.

"The same right that allows me to not give two shits," I wince at Grey's response.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" dad grows even more irate.

Grey looks back at me.

"I'll text you," he tells me before walking to my door.

"You will not!" dad demands and Grey turns around.

"Yes the fuck I will," he nearly growls out before leaving me and dad alone.

He's sober though. He won't hurt me, right?

"You are to never see him again. Where is your phone, give me it," he demands.

"I don't know," I lie. He can't take my phone. Grey said he'd text me, he can't take it.

"Don't you lie to me Azalea Carson," he glares.

"I really don't know," my voice comes out shakily, "it's been lost for a couple of days."

He walks closer to me threateningly.

"And don't you ever, try to tattle on me ever again," he gives me the meanest tone, one that sends my eyes watery.

"Okay," I whimper and he leaves, slamming my door harshly behind him.

And then I cry.

~~~

At this point in my life, I'm the furthest from alone I've ever been. But I'm also a liar and I keep things from the people most important to me.

So I feel alone.

My phone lights up with a call but I ignore it, having a feeling I know who it is.

Grey cares. He cares a lot and he's not the only one but I can't tell him about dad. I just can't.

I don't want to lose my father too. He'll get better.

Right?

Why is it that I don't want to let Grey worry, but at the same time, I'm making him worry by not answering him?

Why has my mind been so conflicted about everything?

I just want it all to stop.

I want to stop worrying about dad.

I want to stop worrying about what to do.

I want to stop feeling selfish about everything.

I want to stop thinking so much.

I want to stop being scared to death of my own father.

I want to stop lying to the one person who I know cares about me.

I want to stop saying 'I can't.'

But I can't.

On one of the call's last rings, I pick up the phone.

"I was wondering when the hell you were fixing to pick up the damn phone," his unhappy voice says through the phone. I bite my lip as my eyes water.

I guess he's done working for today.

"I'm sorry," I tell him softly, looking out into the sea of trees over the overlook.

"What's wrong Lilah?" his voice softens which only sends a tear down my cheek.

"I don't know," I admit defeatedly, my voice breaking.

"Where are you?" he asks softly. I calm myself and swallow the lump in my throat.

"That overhang we went to," I mumble softly.

"I'll be there in a minute," his voice remains quiet. Most likely because he can hear my shaky voice.

The call ends and I hug my knees to my chest sitting on the rock edge of the overlook. At least if I fall off this thing, there's a grass patch on the other side before it really drops off.

Like it would matter. Shut up. It does matter.

It takes Grey ten minutes to get here. It should've taken him around fifteen but somebody must've been speeding.

He stands to the side of me, holding out his hand. I place my hand in his and he helps me to stand and he pulls me to him.

"What is it?" he holds me to his chest as his hand rubs my back soothingly.

"I'm having a mental breakdown," I tell him truthfully.

"I'm sorry about my dad," I whisper. He lifts my chin up to him.

"I don't want to hear it," he says sternly.

"That's enough," he wipes my damp cheeks.

"Don't be sorry about anything. Nothing is your fault," he adds.

"Is it 'cause I'm an ugly crier?" I sniffle.

"Shut up, you could never be ugly," he grumbles. I bet I could prove him wrong.

"Do you think I'm an unlucky person or it's just karma?" I question quietly.

"It wouldn't be karma because you never fucking did anything in the first place," he drills into me sternly.

"And so what if you're unlucky? I'm lucky as fuck, I've got enough luck for the both of us," he places a slow kiss on my lips, one that makes my heart speed up.

"Everything happens for a reason," I remind myself softly and he nods, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Would a tattoo on your forehead hurt? I'm thinking about getting one there that says 'I'm sorry you have to hear me talk', what color should I get it done in, blac-"

It's wild how quickly he can cheer me up just by being near me.

"Shut up."

"See, exactly what I mean. I'm sorry you have to hear me talk. I could get another one on my chin that says 'ignore me'," I explain.

"Oh! I've got a good one. This one I can get under my eyes like Post Malone and it'll say, 'Turn off your hearing aids old people,' that's a good one," I can imagine it now.

That's a lot of words on my face though.

I look up to see him scowling right back at me.

"I'm sorr-"

"Stop saying that," he grumbles and I internally say I'm sorry. Suck it.

"Did it hurt," when you fell from heaven, "when you got all these tattoos?"

"Some," he says and I sigh.

"Have you ever thought of getting one on your forehead?"

"One that says leave me the fuck alone," he mumbles. Is he kidding or no?

"That would fit you," I smile.

"Get your ass in your car," he lightly pushes me away and I laugh at him.

"Come home with me," he opens my door for me and watches as I climb in the driver side. Home?

His home, he meant.

"Aw. Do you like spending time with me?" I lean up and kiss his cheek as he hands me my seatbelt. He leans into me and I kiss it again before he pulls away.

"You've got a pretty face," he shrugs a single shoulder and the corner of his lips turn up in a little baby smile.

"You're so cut-"

"Don't call me cute," he cuts me off.

That's like me telling him to not call me Lilah. It's never gonna happen.

I buckle my seatbelt and turn back to him.

"Were you listening to Motley Crüe?" He looks at my radio where the screen reads the name Kickstart My Heart.

I listen to hard rock when I cry sometimes to make me feel like a badbutt. It didn't work this time even with one of the hardest rock songs I have.

"I love how heavenly their music is," I say sarcastically with an innocent smile on my face. He leans his arm on the outside of my car and I hold back from swooning.

My eyes find his lips that are beautifully resting in a small smirk.

"Are you gonna kiss me or just look at me?"

I blush slightly and lean up to him. He leans down the rest of the way and kisses me.

He pulls away only to look at me.

"God you're fuckin' sweet," he kisses me again with a bit more force.

He grips my chin and I gasp when he bites my lip. Then he pulls away. I'm blubbering.

"Okay," I blurt for no reason and he kisses my forehead. He leans down and I kiss his softly.

He's cute and he can kiss my grits if he doesn't like it.

~~~

"Why are you like this?" I sigh, looking up at him.

"I didn't ask for this," he responds.

"You're not trying at all," I narrow my eyes up at him.

"Yeah 'cause I'm gonna step on you," he looks down at my bare feet. I step back away from him and he reluctantly releases my waist from his grip.

Grey doesn't know how to dance. Such a cutie.

I'm quite the dancer myself.