❀Azalea❀
"Grey," I groan.
"Shut up," He responds and I scoff.
"You're heavy," I wheeze, trying to wiggle my body that is one hundred percent under his.
"You're fine," he mumbles and I let out another sound of frustration.
"You don't know how I feel."
He's not the one with someone as heavy as him on top of him. What? Whatever.
"Why are you the one on top of me? You're heavier," I complain. He gives one mischievous chuckle.
"I'd rather be the top," he grumbles amusedly. The top of what? That doesn't make sense. Is this man sleep talking?
"Well I don't like being the bottom," I whine and he raises off me. He props himself up on his elbows and looks down at me.
"You're so fucking oblivious," he shakes his head, rolling off me. Finally.
"Oh thank you Jesus!" I take a deep breath.
"I can breathe!" I arch my back up, stretching and breathing.
"Dramatic ass," he walks into the bathroom.
"Sugar," I get up, walking into the bathroom behind him, "one of these times, my ribs are going to collapse."
I pick up my toothbrush and follow him in brushing my teeth.
It doesn't matter whichever position we fall asleep in, he ends up directly on top of me.
To my surprise, he doesn't say anything about me calling him Sugar.
Is he warming up to it?
"You like being called Sugar, don't you?" I tease, placing my toothbrush back after finishing.
He does the same and gives me a side-eyed scowl.
He grips my chin harshly and he kisses me.
My body temperature raises a good ten degrees and my right leg starts wiggling.
He pulls away.
"You like it when I kiss you, don't you?" He teases the same way I did to him and I'm left blubbering.
"I think both of our questions are rhetorical," I lower my voice up at him. His lip curls up into a smirk.
His hand slides to right above my hipbone. He gently squeezes it and I jerk, a squeal leaving my lips.
He covers the last half of the squeal with his lips. His arm goes under my butt and he scoops me up.
He deepens the kiss and I pull away in shock. Woah baby.
"Baby steps," I breathe out, "don't rush into things, okay?"
"I'm sorry, I know better," he kisses the side of my face.
"It's just new, right? I know, it's okay," I assure him, kissing his cheek as he had done to me.
"I can still kiss you?" he questions, his eyes searching mine for an answer. A little smile reaches my lips.
"If I can call you Sugar," I bite my lip, trying not to laugh, "and slap your butt," I blurt.
"Whatever you want," he pulls my bottom lip from my teeth and he leans forward and kisses it.
I swear, he's a very affectionate person and he never knew it. His hands haven't left me all morning.
Heck, I'm not complaining.
~~~
Pancakes? I think yes.
Am I the world's best pancake maker? Absolutely.
Did I have to make them from scratch because Grey has no pancake mix or anything? Yes.
Did that make them any less freaking amazing? Heck no.
I kind of have to fend for myself when I get hungry. Mom doesn't really make any food anymore and dad sure doesn't either.
And I'm not necessarily the richest person; I can't just buy food.
And I can't starve. My appetite needs to be filled because even though I'm not growing, I like to think I am.
"C'mere Bear," I call him over. I feed him one of the smaller pancakes and he eats it without chewing.
Finishing the pancakes on his plate, Grey gets up to put it in the sink. I take that as my chance. I hop out of my seat and CIA-style sneak up to him.
I draw my hand back and just like I told him I would, I slap the booty. And it gets me fired up. I feel pumped up like a football player before a game.
I feel oddly masculine and like if I spoke, my voice would be deeper.
Oh, I'm so going to do that more often.
"You liked that way too much," he shakes his head, turning around to look at me.
"It turned me on, bro," I say deeply.
"Don't call me bro."
"Dude," I try and his eyes narrow.
"Dawg," I smirk.
"Fella," I love that one. A dish rag gets thrown in my face, my neck gets kissed, and my butt cheek is slapped off.
It stings like a motherfreaker. It hurt like a buttcheek on a stick.
"I didn't hit you that hard!" I remove the rag from my face, wincing at the pain in my butt.
"I didn't hit you that hard," he rolls his eyes playfully.
I twist my torso, lifting my shorts up. I look at the huge five-star on my butt.
I'm hitting him as hard as I can next time.
"I have a five-star!" I exclaim. Not realizing what I'm doing, I turn around and show him the mark on my cheek.
"I can't see all of it. You should take off your pants so I can," He offers and I consider it before realizing he's teasing.
And I'm wearing a pair of one of a kind peach-colored underwear that tends to ride up my butt. So he's definitely missing out.
"Did you go to college?" I question, changing the subject as my cheeks tinge.
"I got my associates in high school," he grumbles.
Jake was doing that too.
"My parents-well, my dad didn't let me do that. He said...never mind," I decide against telling him what Dad told me.
His eyes fall into a scowl and I wince. I turn around and go back to my seat at the table, shoving my face with pancakes.
"What'd he say to you?" He questions, his voice serious.
"It doesn't matter," I smile, pretending what he said didn't affect me.
"Azalea," he says harshly and I sigh.
"He said I should leave the success to Jake and that I'd never do good in college anyway."
The worst part about it: I believed him.
If no one liked me in high school and even strangers don't, college would be no different plus hard schoolwork.
But I wanted to go.
After the accident, I missed the last part of my school year and even a quarter of the next one, too busy trying to heal everything and going to PT.
I spent the rest of my high school year, including the summer, catching up and getting everything I needed to graduate and maintain a good GPA to get into college.
And then Dad told me I wasn't allowed to go.
It broke my heart. I wanted the experience. There was always the chance that college would've been better for me.
But I guess everything happens for a reason.
"Jake was very good at sports," I explain further, figuring he didn't know what Jake was successful at.
"Azzy. Try it," Jake encourages. I huff and shoot the basketball up into the hoop or basket or net or whatever the heck they call it.
It bounces off the top and hits me square in the face. I groan and dramatically fall onto the floor. He lets out a bark of laughter.
"Is my nose still there?" I question out and he pulls me up.
"Try again."
I try a good twenty more times. It doesn't work.
"It's just not your sport," he shrugs. I don't think any sport is my sport.
"Softball?" he questions, tossing Aaron's sister's softball at me. It hits me in the boob and then proceeds to fall onto my toe. I dramatically cry out.
"That's not even soft," I whine, ignoring his chuckles.
"Soccer?" he asks.
"You honestly think I can run that much?" I respond. He thinks about it before shaking his head.
"Tennis?" he asks.
"That's a scary sport," I chide, "do you hear all the grunts and stuff they do on tv?"
"Sports aren't for you," he decides and I agree with him. I really have no desire.
"That's okay," he smiles.
"You know your dad is fucked up, right?" he questions seriously. I look up at him.
"I know," I admit softly.
"I'm going to get in trouble for spending the night here," I tell him honestly and a glare settles on his face.
"It's okay," I dismiss it, waving my hand in the air.
"Why don't I have a talk with your dad?" he crosses his arms and my eyes widen a little bit. I shake my head.
"Oh no, that'd only make things a lot worse," I explain.
"What does he expect from you? Does he want you to wait until you're thirty to have a fucking relationship?" he grumbles.
I honestly don't know why it bothers dad so much.
"I don't know," I mumble. He only sighs.
"And your mom doesn't say anything?"
"When you came to my house, she said I shouldn't let you be there much," I look up at him. His face sets unhappily.
"I should actually probably go home. The last time I stayed for long, Dad got mad," I tell him honestly, picking up my plate, and putting it in the sink.
"Do you want me to wash those?" I question sincerely, nodding to the dishes in the sink.
His face scrunches as if it was stupid to ask that.
"Quit asking stupid questions," he warns me, gripping onto my arm and turning me the opposite direction of the sink.
"Kiss my butt," I send him a scowl over my shoulder. The look on my face drops when he starts coming for me.
He grips the top of the back of my pants and I'm pulled back into him.
"Now or later?" His hand slides over my booty.
"Grey," I scold. He isn't serious, is he?
"Think heavenly thoughts Sugar," I imitate the praying hands that he has tattooed on his hand, with mine.
"Where'd you get this scar?" His finger brushes over a scar on the very top of my shoulder.
"Sex."
"That was my first guess," he chides.
"A couple of years ago, I was in the shower- aren't you already so interested?"
By now, Mr. Terrip would've already tuned me out.
"A couple years ago you were in the shower," he repeats.
"Tell me about that shower," his voice gets lower.
"Oh well the shower was nice and warm. I think I was really tired so it was supposed to be a really quick one," I tell him about it and after I finish he sighs.
"I-Okay," he starts but cuts himself off.
"Anyway, I fell and busted my shoulder up on the faucet. It hurt so bad," I recall the pain in my shoulder. I feel him lean down and place a kiss on it.
Sweet as sugar.
Bear whines in jealousy.
"Are you still hungry?" He asks. I ate six pancakes.
"Is this why Bear is just a little chunky? Do you always give him food just because you think he looks hungry?" I turn around to face him.
"He's not chunky," he looks over at him.
He's only a bit chunky. But that's perfectly okay because it means that there's just more of him for us to love.
"He eats when he's hungry," he says.
"Dogs are always gonna eat if you give them food," I smile.
"Then he eats a lot."
He lifts up my shirt and looks at my belly. He places his big ole hand on my stomach.
"I'm so full," I promise him, "can't you feel how tense my stomach is? That's cause it's full of pancakes."
"It's barely tense," he grumbles and I raise my brows.
"Are you just saying that because I don't have muscles there? A six-pack or whatever you call it?"
"I wouldn't care if you had a fuckin' potbelly. I don't want you hungry," he takes his hand off my stomach and lowers my shirt back.
He's like a grandma, always worried about if Bear and I are eating enough.
"Would you care if I had better stomach muscles than you?" A little smile touches my lips.
"No. As long as you're not hungry," he keeps up his reasoning.
I'm not sure that would look right to have better muscles than him. Just a little off. It'd be The Rock with my face.
"What is a no-go for you? Like, a type. Do you have a type?" I ask. Am I his type?
He gives a single-shouldered shrug.
"Light blonde. Green eyes. Fuckin' talkative apparently. How tall are you?"
"5'2," I furrow my eyebrows
"5'2," He continues, "pretty smile."
"Cute fucking nose," he kisses my nose. Is he talking about me? He's gotta be, duh Azalea.
"You think I have a pretty smile?" My voice raises an octave in awe. He rolls his eyes.
"Step in front of a mirror once in a while," he grumbles. Usually, that's an insult but not right now.
A thought comes to mind and I hold back from evilly giggling.
"I like guys around 5'5-5'8," I sigh 'dreamily' and just barely catch sight of his face growing unhappy.
"Blue eyes are a must! And he's gotta be very skinny. Like a stick. Oh! Light brown hair would be nice. Or a bald guy," I describe the opposite person to Grey.
I look up to see his face set in a harsh glare. His jaw tense and his shoulders the same.
"That's not me," he says bluntly.
"I'm only teasing," I wrap my arms around his strong torso. He stays tense and I let out a breathy laugh. So tense he won't even hug.
"Grey," I say. He keeps his eyes away from me.
"What did we talk about ignoring?" I remind him and his eyes dart down to me.
"C'mere," I wiggle my finger for him to lean down to me.
"Not to," He grumbles quietly.
"You're my type, I promise. Look," I lean up as tall as I can and I press my lips she softly against his.
"You're getting some confidence, hm?" He pulls away just an inch.
"Hush," I tell him.
~~~
"Mr. Terrip?" I call out after I've finished putting all the books that were brought out back in their correct places.
"What do you think about Grey?" I ask him the question that has entered my mind on a couple of occasions. Of course, I know what I think about Grey, but I just want to know what pretty much my only friend thinks of him too.
I watch as a little smile spreads across his lips. He removes his glasses and peers up at me from his seated position.
"He's got a soft spot for you," he says, "and as long as he doesn't treat you poorly, or hurt you, I think positively about him."
I bite back a smile.
"That makes you happy, honey?" his grandfatherly smile returns.
"I like him a lot," I explain, "and it does make me happy."
I wouldn't want Mr. Terrip to not like him. I may not be that important to him, but he's important to me.
I also wouldn't like for someone to not understand that Grey really is a good person. He may be a little...rough and vulgar. And he may not have any manners at all but there's a reason I call him Sugar.
He worries about whether I always eat or not and his touch is more gentle than anyone else's touch I know.
He likes to be held in his sleep, even as large as he is, and gosh darn it if it doesn't make me all fluttery in the heart.
I miss him.
When I got home yesterday, thank the Lord above, dad wasn't there and I never got punished for being away for the night. And when nothing happened to me, I felt bad for leaving Grey.
Well, maybe he wanted me to go.
What if I'm around him too much and then he gets tired of me?
Then again, he should know that I'm not the type of person that should be left without socialization. I'll be even crazier than I already am.
I'm going to see him.
Freak it. If he's got a problem with it, I'll tell him to shove his words where the sun don't shine and I'll even smack his butt as hard as he smacked mine yesterday.
"I'm gonna go get me a sweet tea," I tell Mr. Terrip who nods. I walk out the main entrance and begin the journey.
Halfway there, a girl gives me the 'ew' look. A girl that couldn't've been older than fourteen. I look down at my halter-neck swing sundress.
I love sundresses. What's so wrong with it? It's a pretty color; baby blue.
I only sigh softly and brush it off.
Maybe she didn't like how low the back is. It only goes down to the middle of my back, so the opening isn't that big but maybe she still didn't like it.
Does that mean Grey won't like it either?
Why am I being so worrisome today? I think I was poisoned.
I finally bust up in Grey's restaurant. Jai welcomes me with his always bright and contagious smile.
"Grey came in this morning, not as moody," he starts, "did you have something to do with that?"
I internally giggle.
"I tickled his pickle," I blurt, "can I have a sweet tea?"
Where's my mind at?
"What?" he leans against the counter where the register sits, his eyes laughing.
"I'm kidding," I explain a bark of some sort of odd laughter leaving my mouth.
I don't know how to tickle a pickle. But mine gets tickled a lot. Not my pickle. But my metaphorical pickle. I don't have a pickle...yeah.
He leaves to get me my sweet tea and I take out my money while he's away.
"Here you go," he hands it to me gently. I shove the money at him.
"Grey told me you aren't allowed to pay here," he smirks. I scoff.
"Tell him this money is from a 'Fernando'," I instruct him. He shakes his head. My eyes narrow.
"How would he know anyway?" I question.
"Jonas would probably tell him if he found out," he shrugs.
"Who's Jonas?"
"The guy you said had a small dick," he smiles and you know what? I don't doubt that he'd tell Grey that I paid when I wasn't supposed to.
"And then I'll get my ass beat," he adds and my hand flies to my heart. What a turd Grey is.
"Look Jonas is coming!" I point to the other side of the room. He turns his head and looks while I amazingly sneak the money into his thingy. Not thingy but waiter apron thingy.
He turns back around and pulls it out the pocket I put it in.
"You're not very sneaky," he holds out the money to me.
"Don't lie to me Jai," I smile. He chuckles.
"Fine, I'll keep it," he finally gives in and I smile wider.
"Grey is in one of the back rooms," he nods to the employees only door.
"I promise I won't tell him I gave you money," I cross my fingers. Don't blab to Grey. Don't blab to Grey. Don't.
"Are you sure?" he tilts his head. I think about it.
"...Yes..?" I offer a smile. I walk to the back, convincing myself that I don't have to blurt anything to feel better.
I feel like I'd be a terrible crimer. Or criminal, whatever it is. I'd probably confess before the po-po even caught me.
I open the door to the first back room I see at the end of the hallway and it looks like a meeting room. I walk in further and Grey stands at a table near the corner, pictures and documents in his hands.
I go to shut the door behind me and I feel something tickle my neck. I bring my hand up and I pull the exact same five dollar bill I gave Jai out of the strap of my dress. I feel my mouth open.
Not only has he made me look unprofessional, but he's made me look like a stripper.
He never even touched me! What freaking CIA video did he watch?!
I scrunch my nose in the thought of getting him back as the door finally shuts. I see something in the corner of my eye.
Ooh, a picture.
I look through the faces in the picture. I smile when I see Theo's beautiful eyes and Jared Leto's hair clone. Then I narrow my eyes at Jai's face but my smile returns larger when I see Grey. Gosh, he looks good in pictures.
The smile gets wiped off my face when my eyes fall on Jake. Jake. My brother.
What?
What?
What?
I've never been so confused in my entire life.
"I was just gonna come see you," Grey's voice reaches my ears but I just barely hear it, trying to figure out what is going on.
Grey knew him.
I'm an absolutely terrible, horrible, and atrocious human being.
I feel a large tear trickle down my cheek.
"Lilah?" I hear his footsteps draw closer. I'm left in the same spot. My heart breaks at what I've done to Grey.
I feel him stop beside me and I just know he's looking where I'm looking.
"Azalea," he whispers regretfully.
I've ruined it. I've completely destroyed his last image of Jake.
The one reason I never told anybody what happened during the crash was that I didn't want to hurt anyone else. But I've done it. I've succeeded in doing the one thing I promised I'd never blab about.
He knew him. But he didn't tell me. But that shouldn't even matter, I shouldn't have ever told him. Or anyone.
I'm so destructive.
I knew karma would strike me from being selfish eventually.
I swallow back a cry.
I open the door, in an attempt to push through the heartbreaking realization of what I've done. The hallway is blurry as I start walking down it.
"Azalea, I'm sorry," Grey grabs onto my arm, turning me back around to him. He grips onto my face and tilts it up to his. I can't even look him in the eye, scared I'll see how badly I had to have hurt him.
And his thoughts about Jake.
"I fucked up. I fucked up," he says, his voice taking on a soft tone which makes me even more upset.
"I should've told you," his thumbs brush the continues tears that run down my cheeks, "please don't cry my Lilah."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he places two kisses on my forehead, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I knew him."
I'm nowhere near upset at him for not telling me he knew him. I'm upset and I despise myself for allowing my mouth to spew out details of everything.
And it can never be undone or forgotten.
He shouldn't be apologizing to me.
I pull his hands from my face and back away, and by the look on his face, I can only think that I'm just hurting him more.
I turn and try to flee once more. He catches me in the room we first kissed in, what seems like forever ago.
"I'm sorry I hurt you again. Don't go," he slips his arm around my stomach. It's even worse that he thinks he hurt me.
I did this to myself.
"I was going to tell you. I had to figure out how, I'm sorry."
"Let go, Grey, it's okay," my voice comes out very quietly. He releases me just as I say it and I turn around.
"I just need to be alone," my voice cracks and my eyes fill up and go blurry once more.
"What does that mean?" his voice turns only slightly desperate.
I only step away from him. He grips onto my hand.
"I'm sorry. What do I do? What do you want me to do to fix it?" he speaks genuinely.
"Let me go," I whisper and he does.
And he doesn't chase after me.
~~~
I walk all the way home. I walked to Mr. Terrip's this morning and I slightly regret it.
I regret it, even more, when I see dad's car parked in the driveway.
I open the front door and watch him rise from his laid down position on the couch.
"What's got you crying?" he slurs. I only close my eyes wishing to be anywhere else.
"Huh?" his voice raises to almost a shout.
"Did one of your little boyfriends leave you? You shouldn't even try," he turns up a bottle of some sort of alcohol, getting the very last bit in the bottom.
"God you're the worst thing that's ever happened to me. To all of us," he sneers. It hits me pretty hard. I think hearing that could hit anyone pretty hard.
I try my hardest not to cry at the verbal punishments he gives me but at times like these, I just can't help it.
"Weak little shit," he growls out. I yank my car keys from the hook and dart back outside.
I climb up in my car and stop. I calm down as best as I can. When I do, I drive to the only place I can think about.
I order four tacos from Taco Bell. Then I drive up The Smokies and stop and eat the tacos looking over the overhang down into all the pretty green trees.
I let my mind wander off away from everything. Dad, Jake, Grey, everything.
But the thought of me causing someone to feel terrible hurts beyond the point of forgetting about it for a second.
Maybe it's because I know what it feels like to hurt. And I wouldn't wish that upon anyone. Especially Grey. He's one of the only people still on Earth that actually makes me smile. And makes me happy.
And I could've taken my source of happiness' happiness away.
I never want to come close to doing that ever again.
As the sun finally falls below the horizon, I figure I should get up. A poop is sturring which played a factor in the decision but it's also getting chilly.
I should have only gotten two tacos.
♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦
If any of y'all have read my book 'Without You', then you'll know that for some reason, I like writing about characters that like butts. Sorry (not really)
Grey got a little cliche in this chap, but once in awhile cliche is okay :)
Thank you for reading!
*Not edited*
Word count: 4510
-Ashlyn Montgomery