❀Azalea❀

I down the last bit of my milkshake, ignoring Grey's gaze.

Especially when it drips down my chin I know he's judging me.

But from the way he's looking at me when I finally make eye contact with him, it seems like he's not judging me but something else.

I'm not sure what it is though.

"Are you sure you don't want one? You look hungry," I say.

He licks his lips as I wipe my chin with my hand. See what I mean, he's hungry, I'm sure of it.

The corner of his lips turns up a bit.

His jaw clenches deliciously and my bottom lip rolls into my mouth. He bites his.

"God, stop Azalea," he says in a rushed tone, "stop."

"Stop what?" My head tilts on its own accord and I feel his leg bouncing up and down underneath the table.

"I'm sorry," I apologize. For what? I don't know. I release my lip and look around the place.

I feel a hand grab my leg under the narrow table.

"Don't fucking stop," he stares at me predatorily.

Before I can even blink, he throws a $20 on the table.

A twenty? Gosh darn, all the waiter did was ask what we wanted monotonously.

He shoots up from his seat and grabs my hand, pulling me with him.

With the large hinges and rotation controlling brace, post operation of my first surgery on my knee, it eases some pain.

I got it from my car after we stopped by Mr. Terrip's. I had left it in there after I went to the doctors one day and they told me I didn't need it anymore.

Now I need it again.

I try and keep up, as well as keeping my weight off the leg because even though it's an expensive, metal brace, it doesn't fix my problem.

"Grey, easy," I softly remind him but instead of stopping he turns to me and lifts me up.

"Grey," I gasp as he carries me across town square before turning down Red Street.

"Hush, Lilah," He shushes me planting a kiss on my neck.

I let out a shocked noise. Am I dreaming? I have to be.

Is he drunk? Am I drunk?

Was I drugged at the milkshake place, oh Lord.

He pushes open the door at his bar and I catch sight of that bartender guy.

"Hey buddy!" I call out and his eyes find mine. They widen at my predicament for a minute before a cute smile spreads across his face.

"How are you?" I call out before Grey grabs ahold of my chin, turning my focus back to him.

"Eyes on me, only me," he grumbles.

He brushes through the doors to the back and we end up in the same place as before. The one where they have all the alcohol stocked up.

He aggressively sits me on the table before grabbing my hips with his big, strong hands. He pulls me to the edge, placing our bodies together.

Me being me, all flustered and stuff, I blush and mumble incoherent sounds.

"Fuck. Look at you," His tattooed hand travels up my neck before taking rest at the top of my throat.

My skirt rises and he notices. His free hand finds my leg and he glances down.

"You can't wear these Lilah, you just can't," he mumbles lowly before pulling my skirt down to it's supposed placement.

"What did I tell you about that?" His eyes find my lips and I just now notice how I'm biting it.

"S-Sorry," I stutter pathetically.

Am I horny? What does horny feel like? I'm not even sure I know what that means.

He presses against me harder and to create some distance, before I go crazy, my hand finds his stomach.

I nearly gasp at how tense and strong he feels.

When I feel his breath on my neck, I notice how heavy I've started breathing.

I feel like this isn't real. Did I accidentally smoke LSD? Do you smoke LSD? Am I okay?

The type of girl you wanna chew all of my bubblegum.

Why am I thinking of Paul Blart right now!?

His lips connect to my neck and I gasp softly. No one has ever kissed me here before. He gives my neck soft, wet kisses and I sigh into him.

My hand trails from his stomach around to his back on its own, feeling the way he tenses under my touch and every time he breathes.

When his mouth reaches a spot right beside my throat, my hand grips his shirt harshly and I have to bite my lip to keep from making a noise.

My breathing increases as he stays on that spot, noticing my reaction.

His arm reaches around me, pulling me impossibly tighter to him.

His mouth works wonders on the spot and I can't help but to finally let out a soft moan.

I'm pulled further into my trance even when his mouth pulls away from my neck. He places one last kiss on the spot before bringing his head out of my neck.

My bottom lip returns to its hated place between my teeth and he finally looks at my face.

His dark eyes meet mine and his tattooed hand trails up from my neck to where my teeth meet my bottom lip.

"Why do you get me so riled up?" He questions, although I feel it's more to himself so I don't answer.

He pulls my lip from my teeth with his thumb, watching my mouth the whole time.

Before I can say sorry for forgetting or anything, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls at it before biting down, I let out a gasp at the sudden pinch but he releases, placing a kiss on it before I can say a word.

It's burning hot in this room, holy moly.

His lips land on mine fully and I come to the shagadelic realization that we're kissing.

His taste is mesmerizing. I bet I taste like Oreos considering the milkshake I've just had.

"Damn boss, another one in here?" A male voice speaks as soon as the door to the room opens.

I shoot away with a gasp before his words dawn on me.

Another one?

"Out, Jonas," Grey sneers darkly and the guy leaves.

My heart sinks and Grey turns his attention back to me. I remove my hand from his back.

I keep my eyes down, too afraid to see his eyes and how he's looking at me after I've just given quite a bit of myself to him.

I'd been kissed before, a slight peck actually from a truth or dare game at a birthday party Jake brought me to but other than that, I've done nothing.

"You need to go home," he decides and I can't bring myself to fight it anymore.

With his one arm that is still wrapped around me, he lifts me off the counter and places my feet gently on the ground.

His strong arm supports me as I walk to the door. He opens it for me and I'm surprised he does it.

"Thank you," I thank him softly but he doesn't respond.

Once out in the main section, I notice how empty it is. Except for the crowd of guys surrounding the bar.

Now's the time to become a pimp. With all these guys here, it's a perfect setup.

I walk carefully across the dark wooden floor, Grey still clings onto me, thank goodness. He's actually being very helpful.

Maybe he feels bad for acting like my knee wasn't even hurt.

I feel eyes on me. More like two dozen eyes on me.

Where's everyone else in the bar? How come only those guys are here?

Finally, we make it to the main door. Thankfully, Grey doesn't stop there. He walks me all the way to where my car is.

"Thank you for helping me," I give him a small smile but he doesn't see it, too busy keeping his eyes away from me.

He never does that. Usually, it's always him who has his eyes on me and I'm the one looking away.

"It was a mistake," his words dig into me and if feels as if the world around us is silent. The buzzing of the street lights stop and the crickets halt their sound-making.

He's talking about the kiss and everything before it, I can feel it in my heart.

"I-Oh," is all I can muster. This time, it's me who looks away and him who looks at me.

Why does that hurt really bad?

"It shouldn't've happened," he continues in a final tone just adding to the wound.

I swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat as the back of my eyes sting.

Why was I so stupid to let it happen? It's all my fault.

I deserve to feel this way.

Maybe it's the world getting back at me for killing my brother.

The emotions I try so, so hard to keep at bay are released in the form of a single tear.

I was hoping Grey wouldn't catch sight of it. He sees everything.

"Azalea," He starts, his fist clenching by his side, and it makes me want to cry more. His tone is emotionless and he didn't even call me Lilah.

"It's okay," I wipe the tear with my shirt sleeve, giving him a smile I mustered up with my last strength.

"I-um," I clear my throat to keep my voice from sounding so weak. I know I'm already weak enough to him.

"I'm gonna head home," I bite the inside of my cheek trying to keep my nose from wobbling like it always does when I cry.

I struggle to get into my car which only makes me ten times as frustrated and when I look up to see if he watched me look stupid, I find that he's already gone.

It's there where I release the waterfall of emotions I was holding back.

The Niagara Falls of emotions, lemme tell you.

~~~

"You're a fuckin' waste," my father slurs down at me.

"I pray that it should've been you; not Jake," he continues and I try my best to crawl away from him, unable to stand up on my own from where he threw me down.

"Look at you," He sneers, bending down to me, eyeing my knee brace.

"Can't even fucking walk right. You're disgusting. You're a murderer," I feel my back hit a wall and I'm in a corner. For what seems like the nine-hundredth time today, I cry my eyes out.

I'm weak.
I'm pathetic.
I'm disgusting.
I'm a mistake.
I'm a murderer.

"You're a fucking whore," my father grips my chin painfully, tilting my head up.

"Look at your hickey you piece of shit," he presses a finger against the spot Grey had his mouth on, what seemed like hours ago.

He grips my face harder and I cry in pain. He holds my face up at his, his dark green eyes bore into mine horrifyingly.

"I wish you were dead," he says emotionlessly before pushing my face away harshly.

I catch sight of his face as he walks away. Slight regret coats his eyes but he doesn't do anything to help me.

It takes me a good twenty minutes but finally, I'm in my room.

I fall onto my bed in pure exhaustion.

The sound of glass plates and cups shattering reaches my ears. I place my earbuds in my ears, turning on my odd playlist of mixed music.

"Your taste in music is what's making you crazy," Jake's voice calls out and my mouth drops open.

"You're just jealous that you can't find songs as good as these on your own," I give him a little smirk. He throws a pair of pants at me.

Unfortunately, they're probably dirty. Nasty dingleberry.

"If you want me to keep helping you clean your disastrous room, you best keep your dirty clothes to yourself," I point at him and he throws blue boxers at me.

I scream.

"Oh hush, they're clean...?" He trails off in question and I shiver in disgust.

"Azalea Carson!" Dad's voice travels up the stairs and Jake and I both pause our cleaning.

"Yes?" I call out nicely, afraid he'll get mad at me.

"I'm going to work," he appears in the doorway.

"This house better be spotless by the time we get back from work," he narrows his eyes at me and I give him a nod.

"Jake, make sure she does it. Love you son," he leaves out the doorway and I feel my eyes go blurry with tears.

Jake's warm arms envelop me and he holds my head against his shoulder.

"I'll help you, it's okay," he says soothingly.

"I love you, okay?" He says the words I desperately wish my father would say to me.

"I love you too," I hold onto him tightly as if he's going anywhere.

Thank God he's not.

I jump awake and look around for Jake.

He was just here, he was just in my arms. It felt so real.

I hadn't had a memory like that in a while.

Those were the types that take the most out of me. The ones that remind me of how much I lost after Jake passed.

I find the clock and see that it's only three thirty in the morning.

I'm terrified of going back to sleep. I know that I'll have another dream. Maybe even a worse one.

My mind begins to wander off to the day of the crash but I cut those thoughts off immediately.

Last time I went over what happened that day, it wouldn't stop replaying over and over again.

I couldn't escape it. The pictures showed when I was awake and they were worse when I slept. Pictures of his lifeless bod-

I cut myself off.

I remain wide awake until my alarm sets off. Once it does, I groggily get out of bed.

I take a shower all while struggling to keep balance on my single working leg.

I throw on a white sundress with short sleeves, keeping myself casual. A dress is easier to put on when you can't bend one of your knees.

I open my closet, grabbing a light pink sweater noticing it's a little chilly today.

I catch sight of my crutches in the back of my closet but I internally send them the middle finger.

Although I can hardly walk, I will not use those evil things.

I take a seat on my bed and grab a pair of tan sandals. One goes on easily. The other doesn't.

I grit my teeth in frustration and pain and I attempt to put my shoe on my god-forbidden foot. Painful memories fly back to me as I recall having to go through this every day after the wreck.

I let my hair dry and it takes to its natural slightly wavy state.

I almost leave before remembering something.

I make my way to my bathroom and cover up the hickey on my neck.

What a leech.

I'm still incredibly upset with myself. How can I go from being angry at him to all hornish-acting? If that's even a word, heck if I know, I'm not a dictionary.

Then, to make things worse, I was seen by lord-knows-who when stumbling my way out of his bar.

He talks about friends of his, maybe all those guys were his friends.

I can't help but feel jealous of him.  He's got people to help him whenever he's struggling in any type of way.

I had to recover from a fatal crash all on my own.

I maneuver my way through the glass-covered floor to get to the front door. I grab my keys and I leave.

~~~

I walk into the store leisurely; trying to keep a pained expression off my face.

The last thing I want to do is worry Mr. Terrip. He doesn't deserve to be worried about me, I don't matter all that much.

I find my chair and take a seat, letting out a sigh once I do.

"No 'Hello, Mr. Terrip?'" he stops right beside my chair.

"I'm sorry," I give him an apologetic smile. He takes a seat on the arm of my chair.

"What is it darling? What has got you this way?" He speaks therapeutically.

"I want him back," I keep my eyes closed so he won't see how they're watering. I've already cried in front of two people this week, I don't want to make it three.

"My heart is just, it doesn't feel right," I speak, confusing myself with where I'm going.

"It hurts; it feels heavy. It feels like there's nothing you can do to make it feel better," Mr. Terrip finishes what I'm trying to say. More like the words I'm unable to say.

"You can't keep what you've been through to yourself," he admits.

"It's haunting you darling, I can see it," I rest my head on his side and he begins to brush my hair off of my forehead.

"I don't want it to haunt anyone else," I whisper, speaking the thoughts I've been thinking since the wreck.

"Have you considered what others think? Maybe we don't want it to haunt you. I know I don't. Aaron doesn't, you know he doesn't. I'm sure your parents don't either," he says.

My parents make sure it haunts me. My father reminds me that I killed my brother every chance he gets.

"You and Aaron shouldn't hear it," I tell him.

I only want their perspective of my brother to stay happy. I want their thoughts of him to remain as perfect as he was.

"You're too sweet," he places a kiss on my head before returning to his duties.

"How about that guy that was here? You two seemed quite close," he changed the subject and my mood takes a turn.

"I for one saw how he couldn't take his eyes off you," he nudges my shoulder

He was probably thinking of how annoying I am.

"I don't think he'll be around anymore," I sigh and Mr. Terrip's eyebrows furrow.

"Well I thought you two were friends?"

"I'm incapable of making friends," I bite my cheek.

"I think I'm done," I tell him.

"What happened? You two seemed fine. Especially when he was carrying you out of here," his tone turns playful causing a small smile to appear on my lips.

It was a mistake.
It shouldn't've happened.

"Our personalities didn't fit," I stand from my chair.

"I'm going to go find any out-of-place books," I turn away from him so we won't see my watery eyes.

I let my focus turn to books and before I know it, my mind has fully slipped away.

Maybe it's better that Grey and I don't know each other.

We're complete opposites.

Plus, he's not exactly the kindest person I've met.

But why do I feel so drawn to him?

♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦

Thank you for reading! I'm excited about the plans I have ahead ;)

*Not edited*

Word count: 3205

-Ashlyn Montgomery