POISON - Billy Hargrove

- Six -

Leaning against the side of Tina's house, Melanie's body let out a shiver. The change in temperature began to sober her up.

"There you are," a male voice called. "Jesus, you're gonna freeze out here, love."

Melanie turned her head to see none other than Billy heading towards her. He looked good, his maroon shirt open except for the last button, and the ends tucked into his jeans forming a V-shape at the bottom. He had his leather jacket in his hands, holding it open towards her. He was clearly buzzed, but maybe not as drunk as she.

"Mr. Hargrove," she slurred "And to think I almost went all night without being graced by your beautiful face." She allowed him to drape his jacket around her. It was awful cold.

Billy's brow furrowed. He reached forwards towards Melanie and into the pocket of the jacket he put around her, pulling out a carton of Marlboros. He removed one from the pack, placed it between his lips, and tilted his head to light it.

"Mhmm," he hummed, inhaling on the little white stick. "You're fuckin' drunk, Henderson." He only knew that name from hearing Steve call her by it and assumed it belonged to her.

"St. James," she corrected him, poking his chest with each word. The movement made her stumble forward a bit. "Steve calls me Henderson."

Billy nodded slowly, exhaling smoke. She swatted it away from her face.

"Sorry, darling," he cooed, stepping closer and watching her intently. They stood for a moment before he spoke up again. "You need a ride?"

Unsure of where Steve and Nancy were, Melanie did in fact need a ride home. Billy clearly wasn't as drunk as she was; it actually appeared as if he was sober.

"Mhmm," she hummed, "but I'm not about to get one from you."

He huffed out a laugh, "tough crowd. No funny business, alright babe? Someone's got to bring you home."

"No funny business," she repeated matter-of-factly. "And no more pet names." She poked his chest again, harder this time, causing him to take a step backwards.

"Alright, alright, knock it off," he replied, grabbing her finger and swatting it away.

Melanie followed Billy to his car, his jacket still cloaked over her shoulders. She held it around her by the collar, and slid into the blue Camaro. After giving Billy her address, Melanie laid her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes. She hiccupped lightly.

"If you vomit in my car, so help me God," Billy muttered, briefly looking over at her as he drove.

"I'm not gonna vomit, jackass," she mumbled back. "You ever heard of hiccups?"

Her attitude excited him, the corner of his lips curving up into a smirk. He pulled into the driveway and turned the keys in the ignition, killing the car's engine. Melanie got out, shutting the door carefully behind her. Billy followed suit.

"Oh, what a gentleman," she mocked, noticing him. "You gonna walk me to the door?"

Billy hadn't expected her to call him out, but that is what he intended on doing. Snow began to fall, leaving a slippery film over the ground.

"I want my jacket back, shithead," he huffed at her, giving himself an excuse to have gotten out of his car.

"So we've gone from babe to shithead in one night, hmm?" Melanie smirked, slipping off Billy's leather jacket and stepping towards him slowly. She looked up at him and held his jacket against his chest. "Here."

He put his hands over it, accepting. They brushed over hers, but she kept them there, leather poking between her fingers. She looked good, he thought. Snowflakes stuck to her hair and eyelashes as she looked up at him. She was close. She was flirting?

At that very moment, Melanie didn't care that she was flirting with Billy Hargrove. She was happily drunk and he looked hot. "Do I owe you?" The words fell off her tongue slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "You know, for the ride." A thin sheet of frigid air separated them, their noses almost touching and breath visible in the cold.

"You just might."

Melanie reached up and lightly grabbed his chin between her finger and thumb. His lips sat slightly parted, hers pressed together in a flirty pout. He leaned forward and her grip tightened, preventing him from getting any closer. Her tongue was pressed up against her teeth, a smile forming across her face at Billy's eagerness. She reached her other hand up and patted him lightly on the jaw.

"Too bad," she whispered, looking from his eyes to his lips.

Before Billy could register what happened, the Henderson's front door quickly clicked open and shut. She was gone. He was alone.

The name of the game was cat and mouse, and it was on.