Layla's P.o.V
"Would you like to come home with me?" Those words were not foreign to me. I had heard them many a time, and this man, he was one of them. He was a pretty boy, I can tell. #1 He called me "sweetheart" and #2 he was very handsome. To me,he looked like a model. He was tan, stocky and sort of short. He had piercing honey eyes, not yellow , more like... Gold. Yes, that's exactly what it looked like, and his messy short brown hair to top it all off...stunning. But, my fantasies were interrupted by his pointed cough.
"Ummm Miss? May I be graced with an answer, because you're sorta starin' at me like piece of steak in a dog pit."
I cast my eyes down, Jesus Christ he has a thick country accent, and I-I'm pretty sure every part of my body is blushing!
"U-Um...I really don't want to burden you, I'm all kinds of messed up, mentally and physically."
He huffed "Miss, If I didn't want to help you, I wouldn't have come to you."
And with that he Picked.Me.Up
"Hey! *coughs* I'm not a sack of potatoes!"
He laughed! Oh I bet he's getting a fucking hoot out of this!
" I beg your pardon Miss, but you're lighter than a sack of potatoes."
"Hmph whatever"
The rest of the time we were quiet. We finally made it to his car. A Mercedes!? Nice. He put me down in the passenger seat. (After setting me down, losing the keys, kissing them, and opening the door) "Where do you live?" I asked knowing that I DID NOT want to be anywhere near the eastside.
"I live in Chalmette"
"Ohhhh ok" We finally pulled up to his place and he picked me back up.
Well, here goes nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Help me Love
RomansaLayla hasn't had a very happy life, and in turn isn't a very happy person. Will someone come and save her or will she let herself dig her grave farther than anyone can reach to pull her out?
