𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 | 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑

17: THE DOG WITH WISDOM

☆彡:･;.*:･。

"I HATE THIS FUCKING HOUSE."

Kylie passed her two parental figures role-playing in the living room as she exited her home. V was dressed in some frilly red underwear and a black apron, pretending to be some mistress maid to Kev who was trying hard to stay dominant. . . and Kylie was sick of it.

To be honest, she was sick of a lot of things right now, which was why she was on her way to see a certain someone she felt was just right to help take her mind off things.
She didn't want to be anywhere near her street, near the people around her, because to be quite honest, they were all pissing her off. Kev and V had made it quite clear she was in their way, and the family next door seemed to be having their own issues, and for once, Kylie didn't want to get involved.

Debbie was convinced she was pregnant again, Lip was still helping get his sponsor's life together again, and Ian was playing Gay Jesus. Carl didn't even come into her mind, as she'd caught sight of him and his new whack job of a girlfriend playing Joker and Harley Quinn. From what Debbie had ranted about the fam in her text, he was supposedly an Uber driver now, and she accompanied him on every ride.

Like I give a shit, Kylie told herself as she raised her hand to a door, sooner or later things will go back to normal. It wasn't that she was jealous or anything, of course, it wasn't— it was simply just pure hatred she held for the girl he was with. She genuinely made the brunette's blood boil and it angered her that she felt like she was the only one who could see she was a maniac.

Kylie's knuckles wrapped against the glass as she stood outside the house, one leg crossed over her other as she leant against the chipped, wooden railing.
And where the fuck is my necklace?!
She mentally groaned as her hand fell empty at the place where the religious, silver chain hung around her neck.

The door unlocked, "yo," and opened into the house where a tall figure with messy brown hair stood. A smirk fell onto their lips as their eyes met with the 5'5 girl on his porch, "fuck. Hey,"

"Hi," Kylie smiled up at the boy, arms behind her back as she swayed on the porch. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Got that right," Tyson twitched one of his brows up.

The sight of Kylie Anderson at his door was the last sight he thought he'd see, but he was definitely not disappointed. Who didn't want that dime at their door?
Kylie suddenly realized how strange it was of her to just show up unexpectedly after months of no contact, and she began feeling out of place. Her arms fell to the side as she looked up at the boy, "Sorry. I don't— this is probably we—"

"Sorry?" Tyson questioned, faking a double-take as he crossed his arms, "sorry? Alright, who are you and what have you done with Southside's brat?"

"Brat?! I'm no brat," she huffed with a dirty look. Tyson chuckled, expecting the exact response, "what are you here for?"

"I wanted to talk. I wanted to see you." Kylie started, taking a step or two back so it didn't look like her neck was broken as she looked up at the boy. He was the only 6'0 guy she knew who didn't make it a personality trait. "A lot as went on since I saw you," she admitted to the boy, ". . . and I could really use a friend right now."

Tyson smirked, and closed the door behind him, "DAD! I'M HEADING OUT!" he screamed up the stairs before turning back round to the girl, "food?"

Kylie smiled, "sounds good to me."

He smiled down at her and they were off.

* * *