OCEAN VILLAGE

2. blue and grey🌺

—Athena—
-this ground feels so heavier, i am singing by myself, i just want to be happier-
-bts-

"Why did you just-"

"Shut the fuck up." He lays on his stomach on the floor of the van, "And don't fucking touch anything either."

He moves his hands to behind him and then pulls out a gun from his belt. Oh fuck, oh hell no. Oh my god they really are FBI agents.

I push myself backwards a little and when I do, I let out a small scream but quickly cover my mouth, something stabbed into my leg.

He turns around, "What the fuck? Shut up."

I literally bite down on my arm, unable to say anything as I watch him pull down the license plate down from the inside.

I feel my eyes start to water, oh do not let me cry in front of these people.

A lot of arguing happens outside and then finally, after what seemed like an eternity, two gun-shots.

He gets up, putting his gun back in his belt and I stay biting into my arm. He opens the van and a load of police cars start rolling up. I fucking hope an ambulance is here too.

"Get out." He looks back to me, literally just a glance. What a rude person.

"I don't think she can, boss." Another one says, ripping the ski mask off his face, I felt pathetic for crying.

And embarrassed.

That is a model, not an FBI agent.

He had these gorgeous waves in his hair, piercing blue eyes and a face sculpted by the Gods themselves, this dark stubble across his face and a tattooed snake across his neck.

"You've got to be kidding me." The taller guy sighs, "You take care of her."

"Don't mind if I do-"

"And don't be a creep about it either, she looks no older than sixteen." He slaps the back of the good looking guys head and then walks off.

Eighteen in two weeks which basically means i'm legal.

He walks into the van, "Got yourself in a situation here, hm?" He takes his jacket off, "How old are you, love?"

My lord that was so hot.

"However old you want me to be." I mutter, not taking my eyes off his.

He lets out a low chuckle, his smile was illuminating, literally beautiful, "Seriously."

"Seventeen but eighteen in two weeks which means i'm basically eighteen." I shrug my shoulders, "So legal."

He laughs again, "Here." And leans back on his knee's pulling his sweatshirt from over his head, he gives it to me.

"I know it's my leg that hurts but I feel if I move the slightest inch, i'm going to end up screaming again." I hold the sweatshirt in my hand.

He takes it off me and helps me put it over my head, letting me keep the arm holes free. It smelled like citrus. And then I realised this was his attempt to get me to cover up.

"Thank you." I mumble.

"I'm just gonna get the one of us that's medically trained." He backs away, "What's your name?"

Dad always taught me one thing and it was to never give away my real name to strangers. Yes, they're FBI agents, but FBI agents can still be creeps.

"Lia-Marie." I guess my middle name will be fine.