Page 11 of Lilah
"Not that you don't deserve them," I attempt to save myself. I don't think CIA training videos can save me from him if he really wanted to hurt me.
I can't even successfully run away from my drunken father.
"Did those hurt?" I point at his tattooed arm, changing the subject to lessen the chance of me further embarrassing myself.
He walks away once more. Maybe he's shy.
I quickly pick up my coffee and catch up with him.
"I'm sorry for bumping into you. Or not watching where I was going. Or for not seeing you open the door, and for kinda insulting you," I apologize, keeping up with his long strides to the best of my ability.
He's not getting away from me without an apology.
He only stays silent either ignoring me or...well, he's most likely ignoring me. I don't let that affect me anymore, I've gotten used to it by now.
"Most of the time, when someone apologizes, the person they're apologizing to usually says something like 'it's okay!'" I guide him and he turns his glare back to me. I nearly shrink down at the deadly looks he keeps giving me.
"Why do you keep talking?" he growls out.
One simple reason. There's no one else to talk to. It's now that I realize I don't know his name. He also doesn't know mine.
"What's your name?" I question, tilting my head up to see the side of his face as I trail after him.
He remains quiet. Or he's ignoring my presence. He might've not heard me but for some reason, I think he heard me just fine.
"It's nice to meet you Silence, I'm Azalea," I smile, slightly giggling at my own joke.
I think he thinks my joke is funny because he glances down at me. He doesn't laugh but that's okay.
Mr. Terrip would be proud of me for making such a dad joke.
Maybe his mother told him to not talk to strangers. I should probably take that advice, actually.
I continue to follow his long strides but now, I'm beginning to rethink my decision. He could be leading me to an alley to chop my esophagus out.
"Where are you headed?" I ask in my casualist of voices.
"Away from you," he replies rudely and I push aside the flicker of pain in my heart.
"Would me buying you a milkshake change your mind?" I offer before realizing it sounds like I'm trying to pick him up.
I'm not a pimp, I swear.
He's silent once again.
But he takes a turn and we arrive in front of the greatest milkshake place in all of Tennessee; Momma's Milkshakes.
Just because the name is less than great, doesn't mean the milkshakes are bad.
I crack my knuckles in excitement and I grab the handle to the door.
"Thank you for coming here with me," I tell him as I walk through it, holding it open for him to come in as well.
I turn around to catch his reaction but he's nowhere to be found.
Ouch.
I reopen the door and catch back up with his retreating figure. He could've just told me he didn't want to have a milkshake with me.
