Sweet as a lemon | e.d

Chapter 13 | 50 Shades Of Red

This is another long chapter so I apologize for all you short chapter lovers / sorry not sorry boo

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I tried my best to stall by pretending I couldn't find my keys to the apartment. The entire ride over here I was watching Ethan's reaction closely, which was confusion. I saw him look up at the run down buildings and trashed street. On almost every street there was something going on with police. Ethan's expression changed from confusion to nervous, although it's what I was expecting. Ethan lived in a rich, calm neighborhood where all the homes were nicely kept. And while Bushwick did have its moments, the majority of its people worried about bringing home enough money to pay bills, not worrying if the grass was cut. I could tell be was surprised when I told him I lived in Bushwick, but he tried to cover it up.

After about five minutes of looking in my bag, I felt Ethan's hand touch my hip. I felt my cheeks warm up when he jangled the keys in his hand. I let out a nervous chuckle as I grabbed the keys from his hand.

Why did I feel an electric feeling go through my body when his hand touched my hip?

I'm not sure why I was so scared to show Ethan where I lived. He trusted me with one of the most precious things in his life, and I couldn't show him where I lived? He trusted me, even if it was just in that moment, he trusted me.

But I just didn't trust, him.

Sometimes when I would be walking through the halls I would hear people saying the nastiest things about me.

"Have you seen where she lives?"

"I heard her moms never home, that's why she lives in a government home."

"Well of course she lives in a government home, I mean have you seen her clothes?"

Most of the time I would be able to block it out with my headphones, or I would be so heavily invested in my black book that I wouldn't hear them. People talked about me, but they didn't know me. I was just the outsider, the girl who was always by herself.

Always.

The scent of lemons and old furniture smacked me in the face every single time I walked into my home. I live here everyday and it still managed to be strong. It's probably worse for Ethan. I gestured for him to come in. I closed the door behind him and watched as his eyes surveyed the entire living room. There were a few old pictures hanging messily on the wall. Most were of me and my mom from when I was little, she took down all of the ones of Dakota, Margot, and Jessica. It was just me and her.

"I like your house," I crossed my arms self consciously and leaned against the door as he walked towards my favorite picture of me and my mom. It was hanging over the old red couch, with a light layer of dust on top of it. I was five years old and was taking a picture of Santa, crying my eyes out because his beard made me think a huge cloud was going to eat me whole. After trying everything to get me to stop crying, my mom jumped right next to me and leaned down next to me for the picture, and it worked; I stopped crying. She looked so happy, I was happy. I have another copy of that picture, except it's of me and Dakota sitting on his lap. My mom tried throwing it away but j dig it out of the trash can and hid it in my black book.