Subject Me To Life [Book One] ✔️ *EDITING*

Chapter Eleven

*Not edited* Not proofread*

Chapter 11– But I think he already does:

        I've never had company over before, aside from Jace. I've never had a reason to. So this, having someone in my house that isn't Jace, is new to me. It's also something I don't like. It makes me uncomfortable and fidgety. I hate it. Next time, no matter how many times Lilah begs and pleads and cries, and no matter how loud the Jace voice is, I'm leaving her on the side of the fucking road and not turning back. Hopefully, however, there won't be a next time.

        "It's rude to help yourself," I grumble as I sit on the counter, watching Lilah rummage through my fridge. "Were you raised in a fucking barn?" I ask, using the same expression Jace uses when I do something without manners. I don't know what it means exactly, but I know when to use it.

        Munching obnoxiously loud on a carrot stick I wasn't aware I had, Lilah turns around to face me with a slight frown. "There's not really much to help myself to..." she trailed off, her face scrunching as she swallows her mouthful. "But mi casa, su casa, right?"

        I grunt. "First of all, it's su casa, mi casa, because we're talking about my house, not yours. And secondly, if you're that fucking put off by the lack of food in my fridge, then feel free to leave, you—."

        "Woah, okay, there's no need to throw insults around," she holds her arms up in surrender, cutting me off. "But it's alright, we can just order a pizza or something," she closed my fridge before moving away.

        I study the redhead for a few moments. Her tears have already dried up and she seems to have calmed down rather quickly after her breakdown in my car; too quickly perhaps. She's smiling and making playful comments as she wanders around my kitchen, rummaging through my cupboards.

        "So, your parents..." I trail off, catching Lilah's attention as she nears the cabinet filled with plates and bowls.

        "Hm, what about them?" She shoots back, her shoulders slightly tensing at my sudden interest.

        I shrug, jumping down from off the counter. "You don't seem too worried about having to go back to yours tomorrow," I voice calmly, though I want nothing more than to shoot her in the face. "You don't seem worried at all, actually," I near her. With each step I take forward, she takes backwards, until she's trapped in the corner of the kitchen against the cupboards.

        "What— What do you mean?" She stutters over here words, clearing her throat so it's less noticeable that she's nervous.

        I shake my head. "Well, you've got a great big bruise on your face..." I remind her, my eyes going to the discolouration on her cheek. "If you were that worried about your parents seeing it tonight, wouldn't you be worried about showing them tomorrow?"

        She goes quiet for a few moments. "Uh..." her mouth drops open.

        I hum. "See, the thing is, Lilah, I might not know a lot about people, but I know when someone is lying to me. So, this is what we're going to do. You're going to tell me whatever information you're withholding, willingly, or I'm going to fucking make you."

        Lilah's eyes widened slightly in panic. "You're kind of scary when you're serious," she mumbles under a shaky breath. I wait, my eyes narrowed and jaw locked, until she finally lets out a small exhale. "Fine. My parents aren't home. They went out for their anniversary to some fancy hotel," she confesses, looking down at the floor as she's unable to hold eye contact. "I didn't want to stay alone so I thought maybe you wanted to stay, b-but you didn't. So..."