Wrong Guy

13 | an escape

Episode Thirteen:
AN ESCAPE

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F A W N ' S P O V :

"Thanks really," he says a quick goodbye, and I repeat it back hurriedly as Elliott's smile shrivels to a dying memory. A cold stare shadows over his features, eyes indistinguishable beneath his angry brows.

I continue to stare at him, doing my best to show nothing but sincerity in my decision. It is said that if you fake confidence, it'll start to just become a part of you, rather than an act.

I wouldn't know. I've been trying on and off since I turned fourteen.

He laughs, and it isn't anything I've ever seen in my seventeen years of being alive. It's not supposed to be sarcastic, or genuine. Not supposed to be happy or sad, or melodic. Not meant to mean anything. It's not meant to be full of energy, it's nothing more than a low rumbling of Elliott's vocals.

It's meant to fill the silence.

After a while, he speaks.

"You know I really don't like him? Lawrence,"

"Yes," I whisper.

"So you did that, just to piss me off? Am I correct?" He asks, crossing his muscular arms over his sweatshirt-clad chest, patiently waiting for a response.

I nod my head, daring to look up at him. When I do, he's grinning.

"Good, that means you never would've done that if it weren't for me trying to be nice to you,"

"What the hell-"

"Ah! No, if I never started arguing with you, you would not have done that. Called him," he explains, releasing his arms and grabbing the milk from my hands, "It means that you don't actually rely on him for a ride, for anything. You don't need him to do anything for you. That was just you hating me, and I can handle that."

He slaps a few bills down in front of my still figure, a few too many. He didn't ask for change.

"Elliott," I protest, and he shrugs.

"It doesn't matter if you hate me with every fiber of your being, Fawn. I don't fucking care, I can walk off and feel the same hatred as you at the end of this,"

I try to press the bills to his chest, but he refuses to grab them, taking my hands in his before pushing my arms back. I ignore the way his calloused finger, ran up the side of my own ring finger when he finishes talking - I ignore it, but my breathing doesn't.

"What I can't handle, is you needing him."

With that my hands fall to my sides, gripping the three dollar bills tightly as he releases me from his grasp, lets me go, leaving my body appreciative for the ability to breath in oxygen.

"You survived on you own for years," he mumbles, looking directly through to my soul as though he could never find what he was looking for in me. An answer, a sign, anything.

"And it's quite obvious you don't need anyone now."

Before I could say anything he was gone, and I was suffocating.

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"What took you so long?" he asks, and I remain silent, closing the door behind me as I slide into the passenger seat of the stiff leather seat. Lawrence's eyes soften, and his hands reach for me, but I scoot away, not in the mood to touch any other human in fear I'll lose the ability to function properly as a citizen in this society like what happened earlier.

"Fawn,"

"Just drive, please," I whisper, a traitorous tear rolling down my face. I know it's stupid, but all I can think about is what he said.

Lawrence leans over and pulls me to him, placing his chin on my head once the tears become a constant. It's a silent cry, a cry I didn't want to have but seem to happen all too often whenever Elliott comes around. He makes me think too much.

I don't care if you hate me with every fiber of your being.

Why do I give a fuck what Elliott says, I don't. So can I stop fucking crying!

"You can talk to me," Lawrence whispers, his jaw pressing against my skull as he speaks.

"No, I can't," I state.

"Then how do I make it better?" he asks quietly, and I look up to face him. His eyes are nice.

"You can't," How do you make it better and fix the problem when you are the problem.

"How can I help you?" He questions, and I continue to stare at him, his slate gray eyes and white teeth that have never done me wrong. Breath mingling with mine. His lips.

"Give me an escape,"

That was just you hating me, and I can handle that.

"How would I do that?" He asks, voice husky as he leans closer to me.

And his lips are on mine, and there's no turning back because the voices are gone, and my focus is elsewhere as his mouth moves against mine. My lips, then my neck, then my collarbone.

Lawrence groans, and it drowns out the sound of his words, his far too haunting words.

He stops for a minute before continuing, my figure free range if it means I can sleep tonight without the sight of him entering my dreams in the form of a regretful nightmare.

What I can't handle, is you needing him.

And then I'm gone. Silently crying as he gives me an escape. Silently crying as I realize that's the one thing I will always need Lawrence for.

An escape.

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A U T H O R ' S N O T E :

So sorry for this one being short, but I promise that the next chapter is much longer and will make up for it. Hopefully none of the people reading this kill me for what takes place in this chapter, but just no, that everything will work itself out in the end. To any who don't know my other book Summer Meyers is Surrounded by Liars is now coming out with new updates, and this is the last time I'm gonna say it, but yeah.

Q U E S T I O N S :

What do you guys think of Fawn and Elliott interacting at the check out line?

Thoughts on what Elliott did say, and how Fawn reacted in the end?

Lawrence kissing Fawn in the car?

Thank you so much for supporting me, and reading this book!
-tat <3