❀Azalea❀
"Why didn't you get anything?" I question the no-name who sits on the other side of the booth.
I got my all-time favorite: cookies and cream, aka Oreo. They're basically the same thing.
He crosses his arms and leans them against the table. I can't help but watch the way they flex and his beautiful tattoos.
"What's your name?" I question somewhat nervously, afraid he'll ignore me once again.
"Grey."
I nearly shiver at his voice. It's just so wonderful. I let a smile appear on my face.
"Azalea Delilah Carson," I tell him fully just in case he didn't hear me outside.
Now he knows my government name, that wasn't my best decision.
"Is your name short for anything, like Greyson?" I question, trying to get any kind of words out of him.
"No," he slightly glares. Woah, he must not like Greysons. Poor Greysons of the world.
"Where are you from?" I take a sip of my milkshake slightly getting an Oreo chunk stuck in my throat. I hold back from coughing it out, just taking another sip.
That'd be the worst way to die. To choke on an Oreo chunk in front of the most attractive man I've ever seen.
He clenches his strong jaw and I wince internally.
He just doesn't seem to like me at all really.
"Knoxville," he grumbles and I smile.
"Why are you asking so many goddamn questions?" His face turns back into a dark glare.
"Well," I fiddle with my straw, "I just like making new friends."
New friends? More like, I like trying to get even one friend.
"What makes you think I want to be your friend," his dark eyes search my face.
I think the opposite, quite honestly. I'm just surprised he's stayed here in front of me for this long.
"Everybody needs a friend," I smile, averting my bright green eyes from his.
I need a friend.
That's true for some. Sometimes, people don't want friends and they like to be alone. That's not me.
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?
Maybe because he smells like what I envision heaven to smell like and his tattoo sleeve is oddly mesmerizing.
"What are you talking about?" I swallow nervously, having no idea what is going on in his unreadable mind.
His eyes narrow down at me slightly and he pulls away. My eyebrows furrow in confusion as his jaw clenches. He looks back out the window before turning back to me.
"Is there someone out there you don't like?" I recover, straightening my shirt that has fallen down onto my shoulder.
"They don't need to see you," he glances over at me and I bite my lip from the sting his words left.
I mean, I get I'm not the coolest person in the world but to not even want to be seen with me hurts a bit.
~~~
It's been twenty minutes. I feel slightly as if he's holding me hostage.
"Would it be stealing if I ate a couple of strawberries?" I question suddenly, eyeing the strawberries that sit right next to me.
I can smell them.
"Keep your mouth closed."
"I would if you told me why we're back here. I'm left sitting here thinking of my own reasons, and my mind can surely wander off sometimes," I warn him and his eyes come to rest on mine.
Good Lord, why are his eyes so enthralling?
He basically renders me speechless whenever he looks at me. Or he makes me talk extra, I'm not too sure yet, he's caused both things to happen.
"You get on my fucking nerves," he keeps his eyes on mine although his face isn't set in a completely deadly glare.
"And you have me in a supply room, how do you think I feel?" I speak my thoughts. This isn't exactly the ideal place to bring a friend, especially a new one.
"I could have you somewhere else," his eyes gleam a certain way and my head tilts in confusion.
"Well let's go there then, there's nothing to do here," I motion toward the door. He just looks at me with this unreadable look.
"You're oblivious," the tone of his voice turns dark once more. I swear this guy can't decide on being a little, tiny bit normal or mean.
"Grey."
"Lilah."
Lilah?
"It's De-lilah and that's my middle name. You're not the greatest listener in the world if I can say so myself," I tell him, holding back a small smile.
"Lilah," he decides in a final warning tone.
To be completely honest, it kinda tickles my pickle.
"Can I call you what I want?" I bite my lip to hold back the biggest smile in the world. Oh, this is just too good.
"No," his eyes fall down to my lips but I ignore that, now unhappy at the fact that I can't call him what I want to.
"I was going to call you Sugar."
There's a perfectly amazing reason behind the name Sugar. And it's not because Sugar is a cool stripper name.
'Sugar' fits him spectacularly because behind all that saltiness, I know he's got a least a little bit of sugar in him.
It may take some digging but I'm sure it's there.
I didn't notice the harshest glare that I think I've ever seen being sent my way.
He shoves past me harshly, knocking me back into a metal rack. Pain explodes where every lash my father sent me is located and I look up to the ceiling trying not to have a heart attack.
"What's wrong with you?" he pulls me off and away from the rack, glaring down at me.
Well excuse me, you're the one who knocked me into it.
He's like a bull in a china closet and I need to get out of here. I can only take but so many of his hateful glares. My big girl britches are slowly falling off.
"Is the person out there gone?" I recover from the pain but he still looks at me, a deep frown on his face.
"Yeah," he mumbles and I walk toward the door to leave. I feel his presence behind me as I look out the window to make sure no one will see us exiting the employees only door.
A second later, I feel his hand touch the small of my back.
I would blush but his hand on my back causes another wave of pain. I hiss and jump forward.
"Lilah-" I ignore him and just walk out the door, with him following close behind.
My heart does take a small skip at what he's decided on calling me.
I grab my keys from the table, which thankfully, were not stolen.
Thank you, Jesus.
Even better than that, my milkshake is still here. I bet it's melted into a more creamy milkshake but at least it's still here.
"Don't fucking walk away from me," Grey grumbles, following me as I walk out of Momma's Milkshakes.
"What happened to you?" he questions, his dark eyebrows pull into a deep frown as he steps in front of me.
I consider doing what he did to me and bulldozing right through him. It wouldn't work out well for me, I'd ricochet off of him.
"What do you mean?" I question him, admittedly playing dumb but not making it obvious.
"Don't be stupid," he glares.
I remain silent, just looking down at my feet.
"I fell off my bed," I smile up at him, using the same reason as I told Mr. Terrip.
He continues his glare and I shrug it off, it seems like his glares are just the normal.
"I've got to get going," I tuck my light blonde hair behind my ear, "Mr. Terrip is probably getting worried. He owns Terrip's Bookstore right down the road."
Grey remains silent, his dark eyes boring into mine, making me slightly nervous for the seven hundredth time today.
"You should come and check it out, if you want," I fiddle with the ends of my mid-back length hair, "I spend a lot of my day there, helping out and whatnot. Mr. Terrip is really nice, he's wise too."
"I feel like that went right over your head," I speak on the fact that he doesn't really appear to be listening to my words.
"I'm going to enjoy never hearing your voice again," his dark eyes bore into mine, proving my thoughts, as his face remains completely emotionless.
My big girl britches fall to the floor and disintegrate.
I clear my throat and peer down and at my tan flats.
Some people just don't get that words can hurt too.
"Have a nice day," I mumble before turning away, walking away from him, and not looking back.
~~~
"I wasn't expecting you to be gone that long, Azalea," Mr. Terrip raises his eyebrow at me as I walk in the front door of the store.
"I had to stop on the side of the road to use the bathroom," I give him a smile and he shakes his head at me, obviously knowing I'm kidding.
"How was your coffee?" he questions, leading me to another cart of books that need to be put away.
"The half of my coffee I was able to drink was just wonderful, the other half was drunk by the sidewalk," I picture Grey and I running into each other.
"That's a shame," he chides, although I see right through him.
"It's not funny, I was heartbroken Mr. Terrip," I pat my heart as I step up onto my step stool placing a book on one of the top shelves.
"You should be more careful, Azalea," he shrugs and I turn around on my step stool, looking straight at his seasoned face.
"Well, it actually wasn't completely my fault," he hands me another book, and I put it in its place.
"I have trouble believin' that."
"I feel like you're coming at my throat here, Mr. Terrip," I send him narrowed eyes to which he just smiles at.
"You know that stranger I was telling you about earlier? The one I met late last night?" I question him, taking ahold of his slim hand as he helps me off my stool.
Always the gentleman, Mr. Terrip is.
"Not really," he doesn't even act as if he does.
"I'm gonna pretend you do," I decide, "anyway, I ran into him after getting my coffee."
"Him?" he peers over his reading glasses at me.
"I thought you knew he was a guy?" I raise my eyebrows and he takes a seat at the front desk, removing his glasses.
"I don't even remember what I did ten minutes ago, you expect me to remember everything that comes out of your mouth?" he says and I can't help but admire the way he always speaks the truth.
He once told me that the older you get, the less and less you care about what people think about you.
"It would make things easier," I sing and he huffs.
"Fine, fine. I'll make sure to pay attention," he sits his chin on his hand, acting like he's paying attention but he's probably not.
This isn't the first time he's done this.
"We had milkshakes," I mumble and he looks like he's about to fall asleep.
Well, I had a milkshake.
"He's a horrible friend," I wince, thinking about all the things he said to me.
"Better luck next time kid, the boy must not be a friendly person. You have to remember that not everyone is nice anymore," his voice turns fatherly.
"He's no boy," I sigh, picturing his manly structure and dark eyes.
"I don't want to be a part of this conversation anymore," he places his glasses back on his nose and I giggle.
"Don't be like that, Mr. Terrip."
"You're too young for boys," he points at me and I internally roll my eyes. He's been telling me this ever since I met him when I was old enough to walk from my house to his shop.
"Men. Plus, I'm an adult...for the most part," I correct and he makes a dismissive noise.
The bell at the front of the store chimes and I look to see Aaron walking in as cockily as ever. I internally sigh knowing I can't get out of this interaction him and I are about to have, unfortunately, he's already set his eyes on me.
He's attractive, I'll give him that. He always has been. He's also always been a complete arrogant womanizer.
It just so happens that he was my brother's best friend.
"Azzy," his pearly whites appear as he smiles, showing his dimples.
"Hello, A-a-ron," I nearly laugh at my own joke. He runs his hand through his light brown, wavy hair as his dark blue eyes focus on me.
From the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Terrip keeping a close eye on him.
"Gotta love that beautiful smile," he flirts.
"Still not gonna work," I remind him and he lets out a little sigh.
I wouldn't necessarily consider him a friend. He comes around sporadically, most of the time just to check on me, although I assure him I don't need checkups.
What I do like, is that he gives me money.
I'm sure I could be his pimp if I really put my mind to it.
Being two years older than me, he's in his late college years and he doesn't hesitate to tell me about his often 'hookups'.
The perfect hooker for my pimp scheme.
Not many people get on my nerves. He does quite a bit.
"Let's go talk Azzy," he places his admittedly nicely built arm over my shoulder. Yeah, so what, he's got nice arms.
He leads me to the reading space around the corner and I just notice Mr. Terrip rolling his chair over to where he can see us. He makes me laugh.
He takes a seat on the newer couch Mr. Terrip recently bought and I sit beside him, careful not to hit my back against the couch.
"Relax, Azzy," he smirks, "why so stiff?"
"I'm relaxed, I'm chillaxed, did you see what I did there?" I laugh, "y'know, combining 'relaxed' and 'chill.'"
"Genius," he gives me a dimpled smile, "beautiful and a genius."
"Aaron," I warn and he raises his hands in surrender.
I ease back into the couch and return my gaze to his.
"How are you, Azzy?" he questions softly, a concerned glint in his eyes.
I look down at my lap and close my eyes for a quick second in an attempt to clear my mind from the picture of when the crash happened.
"I'm doing okay," I plaster a small smile on my face.
"You can talk to me, okay? I know that it's hard for you, Azalea. You were the only one there; you were with hi-"
"Aaron," I stop him, feeling myself get shaky, "I'll talk to you if I need to. I'm fine, really."
No one knows what I saw.
Doctors tried to get it out of me. Aaron tried to get it out of me. Mr. Terrip even attempted.
I don't want anyone to know how bad it was. I want their mental picture of Jake to stay the way it was.
No one deserves to see what I saw, besides me.
His eye flicker between mine before he lets out a sigh.
"Are you okay, Aaron?" I question. I'm not the only one that was heavily impacted by Jake's passing.
Aaron and Jake were inseparable all throughout their lives. They were best friends and had been for many, many years.
They were in their last year of high school and Jake's death shocked the entire school. He was loved by everyone, especially me.
He wasn't just my brother. He was my best friend.
He would always look after me, even in school. When the kids would pick on me, he'd use what he and I would like to call the 'bark'.
He would 'bark' strong words at the kids and him being him, they would run off with their tails between their legs.
He would have to hold me back from attacking them as they walk away.
"Jake, I'm telling you," I start and he smirks down at me as I take a wider stance, "if you would've waited two seconds longer, I would've had all of them on the ground."
"You're wearing crocs, Azzy," he smiles and I look down at my admittedly cute periwinkle crocs.
How dare he insult me like this.
I bend down and move the strap from the front of my shoe to the back.
"Now I'm ready, I'm in survival mode," I giggle but instead of laughing like he should, he frowns at my shirt.
"Did they do that?" he looks down at the purple stain on my previously white shirt.
Joke's on them, they missed out on some delicious purple Gatorade.
"Well," I hesitate, "I guess they did, I didn't notice."
He gives me a pitiful look and I sigh.
He leads me down the hall and into the senior hall. I keep my head down as I walk, not wanting to see the looks on people's faces as they see me.
I stand beside him fiddling with my fingers as he opens his locker. I look down at my crocs.
They're underrated. I've even got little matching flower charms on them. Plus, gosh darn it if they aren't comfortable and they just slip on easily.
It's also not like I wear them every day. I have other shoes, they just caught me on a lazy day.
He closes his locker and we begin to walk again.
"Keep your head up, Azzy," he nudges me and I lift my head, "don't let them think they've won."
We stop at the bathroom and the bell rings. He tells me to ignore the bell and I sigh.
"God, could you get any uglier?" one had said.
"She just looks worthless, doesn't she?" another followed.
Before I can stop them, tears roll down my cheeks as what they had said to me finally registers.
I keep my head down and grab the shirt from Jake before turning to walk into the bathroom.
His strong hand grabs my forearm and he pulls me back around, facing him.
"Azalea Delilah Carson," he says lowly and I slowly raise my head, looking up at him.
I pull my shirt up and cover my face so he doesn't see how their words really affected me.
"I don't even know why I'm crying," I pull my shirt back down, "their insults were childish."
"They weren't even good insults," I try to humor up the situation, it doesn't really work.
"What'd they tell you, Azzy?" he questions quietly but I remain silent.
"Azzy?" he repeats.
"Azalea," he deadpans.
"They just said I was ugly, stupid, whatever," I wipe my face.
"Listen to me," he says sternly and I look up into his eyes. The same colored green eyes as mine.
"You're beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you any different," he tells me sternly.
"Put on that shirt while I go have a talk with those fuckers."
I shake the memory from my head and pay attention to Aaron in front of me.
"I'm doing okay," he smiles.
"How're your parents?" he questions and I tense up.
I've thought about telling him before. About their drinking and maybe even about the lashes I receive from time to time.
On the downside, Aaron's rich. If I tell him, his family will just blow it out of proportion. Maybe even send my father or even my mother to jail.
It's only discipline, right?
"They're doing pretty good."
♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦
Thank you for reading! I gave ya'll a little more of info about what Azalea's deal is. Stay tuned for the next one, you'll definitely find out more ;)
p.s. I usually update on Saturdays
*I don't edit*
Word count: 3831
-Ashlyn Montgomery