Page 121 of Lilah
I shiver at the thought and pull my sweatshirt over my head. With the hood up and all, like a total bad-butt, I sit in his comfy spinny chair and decide on one more movie.
I decide on the most heartbreaking children's film I can think of.Up.
Mid-crying, the door opens and Grey walks in, looking unharmed. I let out a little breath of relief and his eyebrows furrow when he sees me.
"You stayed this late?" he questions.
"I was a little worried about you," I admit, wiping under my eyes. I watch him as he walks closer to me. He pulls something out of the back of his pants. At first, I thought he was scratching his butt but nope.
He sets a real-live gun down on the table and I scoot my chair away from the table a little bit.
"That's real?" I question softly as he takes his jacket off. I swallow the drool in my mouth as his strong arms come into view. He sits the jacket down in the chair at the front of the desk before bending over down to his foot.
He comes back up with another gun in his hand. This man is seriously going to make me have a heart attack.
What happens if the gun suddenly goes off while it's on his ankle and his foot gets shot? Then he can't walkandhe can't catch the bad guy. It's a lose-lose situation.
What's next? He pulls a freaking shotgun out his butt? Or maybe he even takes a knife he carries around out of his nostril.
He opens the closet that I looked at but never touched and there aremore guns in there.
Thank Jesus I did not open that closet because I would have fainted.
"What took so long?" I question, looking away from the weapons.
"The woman threw her bags of fucking crack at us, threatened to kill herself if we moved, and after four hours, she passed out," he grumbles and my eyes widen.
And I calledGreya crackhead. Oop, I'm sorry Jesus.
"Did you save a bag of crack for me?" I blurt. He turns around and shoots me a glare.
"There's some on the bottom of my shoe if you want it," he recovers and I throw my head back in a laugh.
"We went through all that shit just because she's a known crack dealer," he comes closer to me.
"Never get high on your own supply," I mumble and he rolls his eyes, "that's why I buy mine. Or get it off the bottom of your shoe."
"You need to sleep," he says like I'm acting crazy or something. I'm wide awake.
Oh gosh. What if the crack particles from the bottom of his shoe flew into the air and accidentally got into my bloodstream?
I do have a little cut on my finger.
I begin standing. And only then do I realize how actually tired I am. I've been awake for 19 hours.
How is Grey even functioning? And looking gorgeous while doing it?
"You look like a child," he mumbles, coming over to me and taking the hood off my head. The hoodie does kind of drown me.
"Well, I'm not perfectly super tall and filled out," I say softly. I mean, I've got a little bit of a booty.
He pulls me around and we become pressed flush together. I look up at him and he looks down at me.
He trails his hands down my sides and stops them on my hips.
"You feel fucking perfect to me," he grumbles, his eyes set hard in seriousness. I feel my cheeks flush at his words.
Then again, he's been around crack particles all night and it's really early in the morning.
