Brooklyn acm

7. avoiding♚ |brooklyn|

Whenever Austin would try to talk to me, I'd just walk away. I didn't want to deal with him anymore, or even feel sorry for him. It's like he wanted me to end up hating him or something. He wanted me to think he was total asshole who came up with some shit show plans that fucked everyone over in the end. A guy like him wasn't meant to grow up. He'd always be stuck in a world that revolved around him and his terms. I didn't want someone like that in my own life. If he hadn't talked to "Bea" about it, I would've fallen for his little trap. I saw so much good in Austin, and he just ruined that.

I'd always catch him staring at me now too. His eyes were always on me, and it made me feel very insecure. More then I already am. I'd try my best to hide the fact I saw him staring at me by biting on my lip, pushing up my dorky glasses, playing with my fingers. Anything to get my mind off of his stares, but it never worked because every time I'd look over he'd still be looking at me.

He's been trying to pull me aside to talk about something, but I'd either ignore him or make up some lame excuse. I just didn't want to deal with someone who couldn't figure out their own life and was going to a stripper for help. I needed a guy who was put together, and not a total fucking mess over a girl who dumped him. Camila isn't even that amazing so I don't know why he is moping around.

He's been staring at me for two weeks now and it doesn't even seem to stop. He does it more and more each day. I want to shake some sense into him and tell him to knock it off. He's been coming to the club asking for me too, but I decided to take a break. Because I think Austin was starting to catch on my little lie.

When he searched my eyes, and then tried to take off my mask I knew I was done for. He was going to catch this double life I've been living and I was going to be fucked. He'd never want to talk to me again or he'd tell the whole school I was a whore. And the fact I spent most of my time thinking about this lead up to me returning to the club Saturday night. So here I am.

I sat at the bar, stirring my red straw in some alcohol drink I was given. My boobs pushed up high, and my ass hanging out. And I was working on homework on my break, just trying to drown out the music as well as the ugly taste in my mouth. I fucking hate drinking, but I need to clear my mind and relax a bit. But that one drink has turned in to about five and I am now too tipsy to go back to work. One of the girls who's stripper name is King B, offered to take me home. I took up the offered since I had too much alcohol in me to drive myself.

When I had gotten to the car with the help of her, I took off my mask. Some of the girls at the club haven't seen my face, talked to me, or even know my real age, they must think they're better than me, but being a stripper isn't any good. But I am the youngest and the most innocent or as innocent as it gets, than them all. So when King B sees my young features, she's taken aback for a moment.

Her fake blue eyes observe me, and she simply runs her hands through her medium length brown hair. "You're real young kiddo," she states, before running her hand on my jawline line that seems so defined to her.

"18," I let out before sniffling a bit. I feel a little vulnerable with all this alcohol in my system and it got me all fucked up. I can't control my emotions and soon I'm crying because I'm 18 and I'm caught up in a strip club, looking like some dirty whore.

"What's your real name? Mine's Bree," she admits, soon laying back in her car and giving me a minute before she drove me home. She seems nice too, and she has this incredible English accent that sounds so beautiful rolling off her tongue. She's gorgeous, like model gorgeous and I don't know how she ended up here at this strip club with me.

"Brooklyn," I spoke, rubbing my eyes to stop myself from letting tears stream down it.

"Well, Brooklyn, why are you working at a strip club at such a young age?" she asks, and I don't see a harm in telling her honestly. Who could she tell? I doubt she would know people at my school, matter of fact go to my school.

"Well, when I was a kid I've always wanted to be a stripper," I try to joke in my drunk state, but then I'm serious again. "When I was little I had to move when my mom divorced my dad," I start, and I was already getting the shivers at the thought of my dad; but I catch myself and continue, "And he took all the money so my mom moved into a new house, and when I was 14 she finally told me we were broke so I picked up two jobs, and when the club was hiring I took another one so I could help my mom out. Luckily I'm an only child so she only has to help me out, but that's why I'm here. I just wanna help my mom."

Bree just sighs at my story and I can feel her hand on my back now, rubbing it softly to just let me know it's okay to cry. But I just couldn't anymore because my whole life I've just cried and I don't want to anymore.

"Who's that boy who keeps asking for you by the way? Is he some stalker?" she asks, interest obvious in her voice. For some reason it makes me laugh a bit because Austin has been finding so many ways to see me because I think deep down he knows now. Of course, it bugs me, but he cares and I don't know why.

"He recently got poor, and is one of the most wanted and hottest guys at my school," I start which only resulted in Bree saying, "I can see why." That only makes me laugh a little more and then continue, "But he came to me saying he's was going to use me aka Brooklyn to hook up with to get over his girlfriend, and then I think he realized that I'm Brooklyn, and I'm just trying to avoid him at all costs."

"So thank god I kicked him out before he got to a half drunk you."

I laugh a bit more, and even find myself smiling outside of this hell called a strip club. "Yeah, but he shouldn't really know. Last thing I want is for him to know this secret."

"Maybe he doesn't know," she says, and I have to raise an eyebrow. "Boys are stupid. Don't worry. Just talk to him and act like nothing is wrong," she continues.

"Bree, he tried to use me."

"But you don't know that," she soon retorts.

The way back home, Bree and I sat in silence. But my mind didn't stay silent. It ran with thoughts of Austin like usual. I think it's unhealthy to think about a person this much. My mind has never thought of him this much until recently. I mean, yeah I thought about him, but now it's a lot worse. Once he's come into my life, there is no going back. He's come into my stripper life and my regular life, and both of them were getting this side of Austin they never knew existed. I am beyond scared he knows my secret, but I shouldn't stress over it.

Bree dropped me off, and I quietly got inside. I went up to my room, and through my window I saw Austin's window. The light was still on and he sat on his bed, writing in some notebook. Music was playing, but it wasn't too loud to wake up his mom, or even my mom. But I could hear it since his window was open as well as mine. When I closed my door behind me, Austin immediately pops up from his bed to look out his window at me. It was as if he was waiting for me to just walk through my door.

He walks to his window sill and I do the same, propping my elbows on it and letting my head rest on my hands. He did the same, mimicking me. His eyes trace over ever feature of me, and I don't really mind. I had too much alcohol in my system to care.

"Where have you been?" he asks, and I could sense he was curious as if he was looking for answers to solve some big mystery. It is probably the mystery if I am a stripper or not, and I'd be curious myself too.

"Out with friends."

"You have friends?"

"Surprisingly, do you have any real ones?" I retort back, a wicked smirk on my face. He seems to just furrow his eyebrows at me and my new found confidence. I could tell he was finding it hard to understand me. Questions were probably racing through his head, as well as there were racing through mine.

"Do you count?" he asks, biting down on his lip. He looks nervous for my response now, and I wait a moment. I act as if I am thinking of an answer, and the wandering of his eyes shows me he was getting impatient. So I let him wait a little longer for my own enjoyment, but soon I answered him, "I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Yes, I suppose, Mahone," I say back, and for some reason that made his eyes widen a bit more. He cocks his head to the side, searching my features once again in curiosity.

"Say my last name again," he states, soon shutting his eyes to wait for me to do it. Instead, I shut my window down fast and tight. And I say it to him when his eyes are open and back on me.

"Goodnight, Mahone," I say but he couldn't hear me. But I knew, deep down, he could.