INCENDIARY | ✓

breathe me | sia

Three weeks later, and McDermott and I had a ... very weird relationship. We acknowledged each other's presence, but made every effort (on his part) to avoid each other. I could feel his searing gaze on me constantly, as if he was forcing me to look at him.

I kept my self away from him, because the last time I was close to Harvey McDermott, my heart had a little flutter and my blood thundered in my veins, and I did not need that anytime soon. I wonder if the silver of his lip ring tastes the same as the silver of his eyes.

I did not interact with him.

I was walking home from work at 3 am one morning when I saw him sitting in front of his porch, smoking a cigarette.

I made eye contact with him, the silver of his eyes standing out from his bruised face. My eyes flickered to the house behind him, the yellow light displaying the shadow of two people in a heated argument. My eyes slid back to McDermott, curiosity burning in their depths.

Once again, I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I stopped in my tracks, clenching the strap of my shoulder bag as if it were a lifeline.

"That's bad for you."

McDermott scoffed in response, rolling his eyes.

"I'd rather die than listen to them argue, and you know it, Meade."

I didn't have a reply for that and McDermott stood up, stomping on the cigarette before making his way to me. I scrunched my face in question and he exhaled loudly. Slipping his hood on his head, he nodded to the left.

"It's 3 am, c'mon."

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what his motives were. Living in this neighbourhood taught me to be vigilant, and with McDermott, I had to be extra careful. I suppose the scrutiny I stared at him with was an indicator, because he snorted.

"I'm not gonna let you walk home alone at 3 am, Meade. Lead the way."

My heart softened at the sentiment, and I gave him a quick smile of gratitude. Walking home after work was always terrifying, but with a companion as foreboding as McDermott, I'd be fine.

We were walking side by side, McDermott's tall, lanky (but muscular) frame dwarfing mine. It was a peaceful silence, but I appreciated the silent company.

"Meade," McDermott began, his voice hesitant. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Lo and behold, are there pigs flying?" I snarked, grinning. "McDermott himself has something to ask me?"

"Shut up," he muttered, and looked away.

"Go ahead, ask away," I nudged him with my elbow.

"I was wondering," he began, looking away from me. "If-"

We both jerked our heads to the right, as a car swerved and it's passengers drunkenly sang out loud to Led Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love. As the car drove past us, it slowed down, the guy closest to us cooing along.

When police sirens began ringing, the car made a screeching sound and Tokyo Drifted away, the police cruiser on it's ass.

. . .

thump thump thump

He was kissing her.

The girl with the big ass rack and butt, he was shoving his tongue down her throat.

I was standing across the room, as the stupid song was wailing, my kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed. The little bitch. Not the girl, him, McDermott. I stood there like a creep, my need for dancing, gone.