Page 220 of Lilah

I've been alone my whole life. Mom died hardly any time after I was born and dad never had shit to do with me, making me fend for myself. I heard once from him though that he and mom ran away from their parents when they were eighteen. She was pregnant, they were kicked out, so they ran, not knowing where they'd end up.And that no one deserves anything in life and that life equals hell.

On a night he had unexpectedly come home drunk, the night of my fifteenth birthday actually, he talked to me more than he ever had.

It wasn't about me. It was about mom.

I never had anyone to talk to aboutme. No family. In high school, people tried talking to me but most of them were either scared of me or left me alone because they knew that that was how I liked it to be.

I liked that they were scared of me. I liked that they saw my tattoos, the look on my face, and my height and were scared of me. I didn't have to worry about the dumb ass drama shit that went around.

This one girl got involved with this guy's dad. The girl was full-on fucking her boyfriend's dad. On top of that, her boyfriendwas seen with her younger sister, who was a goddamn freshman. Then, the freshman sister was also seen getting too close with the older sister's boyfriend's best friend, who was dating this other girl that ended up fighting both the freshman girlandher sister.

The whole thing was a fucking shit show. But I sat the fuck back with metaphorical popcorn and watched it all unravel.

I neverwantedfriends. I was content with myself.

And then I was content with just me and Lilah. Now it's me again. And I'mnotfucking content.

An idea pops into my head and It's something I've never even thought of doing before but something I know she'd love.

She fucking loves flowers. Like,lovesthem. I could do that. The ones we have already she said need to be moved somewhere to get more sunlight anyway.

Who the fuck knew she was a botanist or whatever the fuck it's called.

I arrive at the closest store I know that has flowers and I make it to the aisle that smells like someone's grandma.

I recall the time she and I came here for the flowers the first time. It took nearly fifteen fucking minutes for her to pick out two sets of flowers.

The ones she had really wanted weren't 'bloomed' enough or whatever the fuck she said. I look at the lilies, as she called them, and see that they look different than the time we were here.

The flowers now have more actual...flowers or whatever. Blooms or some shit. I'm not fucking good at this.

Half the time I was watching her and the other half I was wandering back and forth down the aisle waiting for her to finish. She wouldn't let me leave the aisle too afraid she 'lose' me.

I pick up the lilies, pay, and go back home.

She sees me as I walk in and I silently thank God when I see those eyes of hers light up when she sees me. Or maybe it's just the flowers, I don't know.

"I'm still sorry," I remind her, watching her closely as she takes the flowers and bites her lip as she admires them.

I want that fucking lip.

I have zero self-control. Zero. I'm going insane. This is the worst punishment I could ever get. Living with her, seeing her looking so fucking beautiful every second and not being able to touch her in ways I want to.

In ways I know she loves.

But she's right. I can't treat her like I did and I need to figure it out. But I need to do it fucking fast because I can't stay away from her much longer.

"You got these for me?" her voice raises an octave. I only give her a nod, never taking my eyes off her. She returns her gaze to me and gives me a sweet smile, her straight, pearly whites showing themselves.

Every time I look at her I want to kiss her. Did I kiss her at least twice a minute before? I need to now. Or, not now, after she takes me back. God, I hope it's soon.

"Thank you," she bites that fucking lip again and I get a headache. I lean my forehead against the nearest wall and curse.

"What's wrong?" she questions softly. I pull my head back and look at her again. Even after hating the fuck out of me for being a shitty person to her, she's still concerned about me. Still.

God, I fucking love her.What?

"Baby, I want you. Iwantyou," I'm fucking desperate, clingy, pitiful, everything but I don't give a single shit.