THE GOLD | b. hargrove

chapter five

It was cold out, any semblance of a beer jacket long since left behind, and the pavement was hurting her bare feet and she trudged down towards her house. Her eyes were focused on the floor below her as to avoid any potential injuries that come with walking without shoes in the dark. She had her arms tightly wrapped around her body to try and conserve warmth, her heels gripped in one hand and knocking against her hip with each step. It almost made her laugh, the thought of what a sorry sight she must be. Covered in blood, albeit fake, stumbling down the street alone. She was pulled out of her mental pity party by the familiar sound of a car engine filling the street, looking up from the pavement to see Billy's Camaro slowing next to her.

He leant over to roll down the passenger side window. "C'mon, get in." He put the car into park as she remained still on the pavement. Her argument with Dan still fresh in her mind, the emotions rising up in her chest again.

"I'm fine Billy, just go home." Her stubbornness was stupid and she knew it, but she was still a bit drunk and Dan's comments were at the forefront of her mind.

"Don't be fucking stupid Harriet, get in the car." Billy's words were blunt, but somewhere beneath the stern tone there was genuine concern. He'd seen her leave the party on her own, not long after he'd also seen her boyfriend storm out, and when she hadn't returned after a few minutes he'd excused himself to go and find her - though he didn't tell his friends that. He couldn't explain why he cared, nor did he want to give it any more thought, but he wasn't about to let her walk home alone in the dark.

She stayed glued to her spot for a moment, looking at the boy who was waiting for her to make a move. With a roll of her eyes and a frustrated sigh, she swallowed her pride and walked over to the car and got in without another word. She carelessly threw her shoes into the footwell and buckled herself in, slumping back into the seat. "Thank you." She mumbled, not looking at the boy who had come to her rescue.

Billy looked over at the girl sat in his passenger seat. She looked smaller than usual, shrunken in on herself as she kept her arms wrapped around herself. He could see her trying to stop her body from shivering, too stubborn to give into the cold that was working it's way into her bones. He sighed and leaned back into the back seat, feeling around in the dark until he found his denim jacket he'd left back there a few days ago. He placed it onto Harriet's lap, her looking at him with confusion. "Put it on, you're freezing."

Harriet didn't say anything, just gave him a small nod and slipped her arms through the denim jacket. It engulfed her the moment in was on her body, far too big for her own frame, but it meant she could wrap it over itself almost like a blanket. It'd been well worn, so wasn't as stiff or scratchy as she expected, and it carried the same smell that she knew of Billy - his musky cologne and the lingering scent of cigarettes. Once she'd got the jacket on, Billy restarted the car and started the drive down to Maple. The car was quiet, no music played from the radio, the only noise was from the hum of the engine which was less aggressive than usual due to him driving slower seen as he had been drinking that night. "Where's lover boy then?" He looked over to Harriet, who was resting her elbow on the car door, head leaning on her hand as she stared out the window silently. She shrugged her shoulders in response, not capable in that moment of giving him anything more. She was still concerned that if she spoke, the tears that had been threatening to fall would come back with a vengeance.

"He's a bitch anyway." Billy's statement managed to get a laugh from the girl, who finally turned her attention away from the window and looked at Billy, his eyes darting between her and the road ahead of them. She had a small smile on her lips now, but it didn't stop the sadness in her eyes from overshadowing any other emotion she showed.