Page 32 of Lilah
Why is it now that my brain can't think of anything? Any other time I'd come up with at least something.
His hand moves to rest on my side. It explodes with tingles. Not actually, because that would be like impossible unless I'm like allergic to him or something but, it makes butterflies go off in my stomach.
"I want to get away from everything," I whisper.
Never would I ever become like my parents. I would never take a sip of alcohol after seeing what it does to them.
I want to get away fromthem. I want to get away from the constant reminder of being the cause of Jake's passing, but I would never actually do that by drinking.
"I want to escape for a minute," I add, not going far into an explanation.
I don't want to go home.
I peek up at him only to see his head cast down at the ground, looking at the floor. His head only stays down for a few seconds before he looks back directly at me. His dark eyes craze the butterflies further.
"You shouldn't be drinking that shit," he grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed into a small glare.
"I know," I reply softly.
His thumb rubs a single circle on my waist before he pulls away.
~~~
"What's your last name?" I question, swinging my feet back and forth while sitting on the counter he oh-so-graciously planted me on.
I hardly know anything about him, and I think it's time I do.
"Kingston," his dark voice travels to me as he looks through the stock of their alcohol for my cherry pie moonshine.
"Mine's Carson," I inform him and he stops, turning back toward me.
"You've told me, Lilah."
Noise reaches my ears and I freeze.
"I think there's a ghost, Grey," I whisper. My training didn't teach me how to defeat ghosts. And Ghostbusters only goes so far.
"How long have you lived here?" I change the subject although still keeping a close watch to my surroundings.
"Why?" his voice turns deeper and I look up to see him glaring darkly at me.
"I just want to know," I shrug, "I want to know more about you."
"You think I care about what you want?" he sneers and I hold back the world's loudest groan. Why does he change so quickly? He was just being nice.
"You think I care about what you think?" I shoot back, frustration building up in me.
"And you wonder why I want to drink," I grumble, adding to my imaginary list of reasons why I want to drink.
"Fuck you," his voice turns deadly and I regret my last words. No one's told me that before and I don't really like it.
"Is that all you've got?" I grit out. If he thinks he's gonna get to me by just that, he's got a whole storm coming.
He takes long strides toward me and I stare up at him as he does. He grasps my chin in a firm but not painful grip, lifting my head so that I'm looking straight at him.
"Why do you do that?" he clenches his jaw.
"Do what?" I question softly.
