Page 68 of Lilah
I try the first door on the left. It's a closet with nothing in it.
I try the first door on the right. I see Grey.
His eyes dart up to mine and I give him a little smile walking more in the room. He sits behind a pretty big wooden desk with an iMac on top of it.
Once upon a time, I wanted one of those. I looked at the price and nearly had the biggest heart attack ever recorded.
The rest of his desk is filled with paperwork and a coffee cup.
"Hi, Grey," I close the door behind me. I watch as his eyes run over my attire. A pair of shorts and an off the shoulder light blue top, paired with mygorgeousleg brace that I lovesomuch.
I take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. He sits his chin in his hand, his eyes trying to keep themselves open. I smile softly at him.
"Are you tired? You look a little tired," I question, a little tilt to my head.
I walk forward and hold my coffee out to him.
"I drank quite a bit of it but you can have the rest. Or I can go get you some," I stop by his desk and he turns in his wheely chair toward me.
I feel like he might yell at me if I suddenly start spinning him in it.
My eyes zero in on a cut on his lip. A pretty big one. I gasp, getting closer.
"What happened to you? Does it hurt?"
"Did you get jumped?" I grab my heart. Oh God, he did, didn't he?
"The fuck are you talking about?" he grumbles. I set my cup on his desk and go closer to him bending at my waist.
I grab his face and tilt it up to me. I get a good look at his lip. It's busted which tells me that he got it by blunt force trauma.
I watch way too much Cops.
I run my finger over the cut on his bottom lip lightly before realizing that I'm just holding his face. I feel my cheeks heat up but I keep my cool.
His dark eyes look up at me and I'm surprised to see that he's not glaring. He's just looking. Holy mackerel, did my talk with him yesterday actually work?
I'm sure it's because we talked about this yesterday and now he's realized that he's been mean.
"I got headbutted," he answers quietly and I feel my eyes narrow. Aren't you supposed to headbutt somebody on their forehead, not their lip? What a can't-get-right.
"Where are they?" I question, fired up.
"They're about to get got," I assure him and his lips pull up into the most gorgeous smirk I've ever seen in my whole entire life.
"Here, here," I pick up my coffee again, holding it out to him.
"I'm not drinking that shit," he scowls at it. I'm offended at the way he looks at it. And I'm sure teenage girls everywhere would be too.
"Why not?"
"What's that shit?" he reuses the curse word, pointing to the caramel in the side of the cup.
Dirt that I mixed together and then put in my cup.
Getting tired of standing, I drag the chair in front of his desk to right beside his. I sit down and hold the cup out to him again.
"It's only caramel," I giggle and his eyes dart back to mine.
