Lilah

Chapter 3: Sugar

With all the thoughts that run through my head daily, I need someone to talk to or I may end up in a mental facility.

"Th-"

Before I can even finish adding onto my 'everyone needs a friend' argument, he shoots up from his seat. He grasps my arm and pulls me out of my seat, startling me nearly to death.

Now is where he robs me of my remaining two dollars and kicks me in the throat.

"Is everything okay?" I mumble as he drags me through an employee only door, a pain travels through my knee and up my leg but I try to ignore it.

I thought it would be better by now.

"Um, Grey?" I question softly as we finally come to a stop.

I look around to see a lot of milk, for milkshakes, and lots of fruit.

"Did you want some fruit, or..?" I face him again.

He looks out the small window of the door and my eyebrows furrow.

Oh no.

My keys. And more importantly, my milkshake.

"Grey, my keys are out there," I say only to get ignored.

"What if they get stol-" he cuts me off by pushing away from the door and coming to stand directly in front of me.

"Do you ever shut your mouth?" he asks pretty angrily.

I didn't know I had to. Pardon me for speaking my mind and trying to save my milkshake from its potential hungry kidnapper.

"Are those the only words you can say?" I question, referring to the multiple times he's already asked me that.

That question doesn't appear to make him happy. Not much seems to make him happy. Not even milkshakes.

It makes me wonder if dogs make him happy. Dogs make everyone happy but honestly, he doesn't seem like everyone.

He leans closer as his eyes fall over every part of me, "You couldn't handle everything I've got to say."

Oh excuse me, I'll have him know that I was told not-so-nice things to my face in high school quite often, I can handle whatever he's got to say.

Plus, I'm not too bad at hiding how I really feel. I've got a mean pair of big girl britches that are ready to be put on at any time.

"I can handle insults pretty well," I keep my chin up, trying to hide how doubtful I truly am.

A sinister smirk takes place on his lips and I keep myself from looking away from his handsome face.

Why does he have to be so attractive?

"I'm not talking about insults," my back hits the wall behind me, pain travels along the surface of my skin, and I nearly knock over a container of strawberries when he traps me with his strong arms.

Does this milkshake place literally have no workers in the back? What the heck?

Why am I feeling so nervous?