Chapter 6 Dangerous
?Azalea?
I stare at my ugly busted bottom lip in the mirror.
I guess I was dumb to think he wouldn't actually go as far as elbowing me. Although he tried his best to convince me it was an accident, I knew deep in my heart that an elbow doesn't just fly up at someone by chance.
I got his alcohol. Apparently, it was too late for him though.
My mother didn't stop it. She sat on the couch and watched as his elbow hit me across my face.
It's not like I can hide it with makeup either.
Not only does my top lip have a small cut on it from last night at the bar, but the bottom lip does too. Although it's quite a bit worse.
I let out a quiet sigh.
I grab my phone and my car keys that my father kindly threw at me after busting my bottom lip.
I turn my light off and open my bedroom door. I close it behind me and stop when I hear someone to the left of me.
I turn my head and there stands my father, still in his clothes from last night. I gulp and send a quick prayer up to God.
I guess he's too hungover to go to work today.
He can't still be drunk right? I hope to God he's not.
"Why so frightened?" his worn out voice reaches my ears and I still can't tell if he's drunk or not.
Why such a piece of donkey crap?
I ignore him, wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible. I dart down the stairs and don't stop.
Once I've finally made it outside, I lean up against my car, bending down to rub my slightly throbbing knee.
I suck it up and make my way to the bookstore. Only two hours later than usual.
"Are you under the weather, Azalea?" Mr. Terrip asks first thing as soon as I enter.
"No," I reply, "Why? Do I look it? You can just tell me if I look ugly or not, you don't have to be nice."
"If you were ugly I wouldn't allow you to spend all your time in this store," he places his skinny hand on my forehead, "you would scare away all my customers."
"How darling of you to say," I wrap my arms around his frame, relishing in the feeling of his grandfatherly warmth.
We pull away and he picks up his glasses from his desk, sitting them on the end of his nose. He squints his eyes before grabbing my face ever so gently and tilting it up so that he can see it through his bifocals.
"What on earth?" he sees my busted lips.
My exotic dancing training isn't going well. I hit my mouth on my pole.
If I would say that to him, he'd surely have a heart attack.
Who would I talk to then?
"Here's the deal," I start, "I was laying in bed, my alarm woke me up. It scared me, right? So, I hit my knee on my mouth."
"You need to get out more," he removes his glasses and my mouth drops open.
"I thought you enjoyed my company!" I gasp and he nods after a second of deciding whether to ignore me or answer me.
"Of course I do. I'm just figurin' that maybe you could use a relaxing day at home," he shrugs and just the thought of me spending the day at home makes me uneasy.
"No thanks," I say quietly, making my way to my designated chair.
I plop down in my seat and lean my head up against the chair. The bell above the door jingles and I shoot up.
From my position, I see it's a girl maybe around my age. I let her walk around and look for a while until I'm able to gather up my courage.
"Do you need help finding anything?" I question softly, not wanting to be one of those people who walk up to you and basically corners you into buying something.
If I'm lucky, maybe she and I could be friends.
She looks over at me and she shakes her head. She's super pretty. I give the back of her head an unfortunately saddened smile and walk over to Mr. Terrip's desk.
"Be honest with me," I say as I approach him. He looks up at me.
"Do I look nice? Approachable even?" I take a seat on the end of his desk.
"Of course you do," he replies but it's kind of that thing where he has to say yes because he knows me. He's biased.
The girl approaches us with two books in her hands. Mr. Terrip stands and rings up her books. I keep my eyes downcasted on my black button-down skirt.
The bell to the door sounds once more. I look up to see Grey walking in, gorgeous as always.
My palms get sweaty seeing him. A single lock of hair falls onto his forehead and I've never wanted to run my hands through anyone's hair as much before.
"Have a good day," Mr. Terrip tells the girl as she grabs her bag, walking away from the checkout counter.
I offer the girl a smile, she doesn't see it.
My smile falters as she walks past Grey, obviously checking him out.
He doesn't glare at her like he does to me.
At that, I just look back down at my skirt. My blonde hair falls around my face, blocking the view of Grey.
I feel his presence in front of me and I turn to Mr. Terrip.
"Mr. Terrip, this is Grey. Grey this is Mr. Terrip," I mutter softly.
"This is who you've been tal-"
"Mr. Terrip!" I cut him off, "shouldn't you be finishing your crossword puzzles?"
"I mean, I guess-"
"Okay," I pick up his crossword book and hand it to him. He gives me a sly little smile before taking his book and sitting at his desk.
At least now I know he actually listens sometimes.
"Are you here for the book you forgot to get?" I question, looking up only to find him glaring at me.
I just let out a little sigh.
I carefully climb off the counter and walk away from him, toward the back of the store.
There's no reason to glare at me especially when he's not glaring at that other girl.
What am I? Jealous?
She was really pretty though. Maybe he liked her. That's probably what it was.
I know I annoy him. He reminds me of that quite often.
Maybe I should just stop talking altogether.
Walking to a row of books that need to be put away, I pick up one.
Grey's hand grasps the back of my shirt, turning me around to face him.
His hand comes up and he rests it right at the top of my throat. He lifts my head up and glares.
It's hot in here.
"That wasn't there last night," he growls out, looking at my bottom lip.
"Yeah it was," I reply, "it was dark Grey, you just didn't see it."
I raise my head and gently take hold of the one he has under my jaw.
Good lord this man has some nice hands.
I lower the both of our hands keeping my eyes away from his.
"Your book?" I question nervously.
"I don't want a damn book," he grounds out, agitated.
He needs a book on how to communicate properly. I can't read minds here.
I look up at him. I wait for him to say something but of course he doesn't.
If he doesn't want a book then what's the point of being here?
Does he enjoy making me feel terrible about myself? I get enough of that everywhere else I go.
This is the only place where I can be free without having to care whether or not anyone is judging me. Mr. Terrip is the closest thing to family and a friend I've got and even though I know he judges me, he is still always there for me.
"Then why are you here?"
"I wanted to see you hungover."
"Well, I'm not," I fumble with the book in my hands.
"I can see that," his deep voice grows a tad deeper. I search my brain for anything else to say which is unusual.
"I'm sorry you had to drive me home last night," I apologize.
"I don't have your sweatshirt with me but I can bring it to you tomorrow," I add.
Or maybe I could keep it considering it smells delicious like you and it's more comfortable than anything else ever.
"Next time drive yourself. That was out of my way," he grumbles, his eyebrows pulling together in a small glare.
"Well, you didn't have to do it. If I knew you were going to act like this then I would've refused to let you drive me home," I turn away from him, finding the book in my hand's correct placement.
"I didn't want to hear your bitchin' about it later," he says from behind and I close my eyes refusing to let his words do anything to me.
"That's all I hear from you," I fire back at him.
With my back facing him, my face morphs into one of a little regret. He may be awfully rude but I'm sure not.
I can't help but feel bad. I don't know what goes on with him at home. Maybe he's been through some things.
Maybe he should take my advice.
I decide on turning around to gauge his reaction to my words. Maybe he's laughing. He definitely won't be laughing but maybe, just maybe, he's not that mad.
I've 'known' this man for weeks, when is he ever not mad at anything I say?
I turn and come face to chest. I feel like giving up and just leaning my forehead against his chest and falling asleep.
I'm exhausted.
I need a coffee. Then, a nap. Heck, even a spa treatment after my nap.
"Nothing else to say?" he pushes away from me.
"That's all you got?" he repeats the question that I've asked him on a few occasions.
"Grey, stop," I whisper realizing that I never put on my big girl britches today. I think they flew out the window actually.
"Not so tough now, huh?" he leans into me, so close I can see the faint scar on his jaw. His tattooed hand comes up and he tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
My heart speeds up as his hand lingers on my skin, trailing down to under my chin.
Wait. He's mean to me. He's a full-fledged jerk.
And he's gorgeous. But dangerous. Dangerously gorgeous, there it is.
What am I even doing? I hardly know him and I'm letting him this close? There must be something in my water.
Why am I not pushing him away? Why do I keep asking myself questions?
I wonder how that nice homeless man is doing?
Why do I want to kiss him? Grey, not the homeless man...I think? No, no, It's definitely Grey.
With Grey so close in front of me, his hand tilting my chin up, I get the perfect view of his perfect lips.
I need help. I need a friend to help me because I have no idea what I'm doing or what to do. I've seen those movies where the friends help each other with basically everything.
Picking outfits
Is this text okay?
What do I say to him?
What do I do when he does this?
I feel like Mr. Terrip would ban me from the store if I asked him everything I want to.