Page 129 of Lilah
"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 mypickle. But my metaphorical pickle. I don't have a pickle...yeah.
