MAD

chvpter 35

THE SONG ABOVE IS THE AUDIO FOR THE FINAL SCENE

...

Before he can reply I glimpse Scor walking down the riverbank, machete resting on his shoulder, drug bag in hand. Reid and I fall into prickling silence, "Everything alright here?" Scor looks at me as he arrives at the edge but I rush to the shore so I can pull him away from the water.

He's masking his phobia to look hard in front of Reid.

"Yeah, talk about it later." I murmur, grabbing his waist so I can nudge him toward the tree with all my stuff.

Scor glares Reid down as he places his hand on the small of my back, "Nice to see you don' got two zero's behind your eyes." He snipes but it hits a nerve. He's obviously referring to the tattoo on my hip, which insinuates we were in a situation that was intimate enough for him to know about it.

Now it really sounds like we fück.

We only used to. The crackle of jealousy in Reid's eyes sparks into an outright burn, but he covers it with an easy grin, "Yeah, heard I tried to punch on, sorry about it mate." His tone is anything but friendly.

Scor smiles right back, turning to stand between Reid and I as I collect my cargo pants and pull them on. I refuse to look at Reid as I buckle them up, hating how revealing my bra is now that it's wet.

"You got them pillies?" I grate, looking to the med-bag in Scor's slack hand.

He glares at Reid, his chin tipped slightly to make up the height difference. His manic, disdainful glare is potent with a protective and possessive glean.

Reid scoffs a noise at my question, and it hits a nerve. He's referring to the party, when I got so fucked up that Mal followed me.

"Oh fuck off," I spit, "You jus' fuckin' copped to Pixie Dust so don' go lookin' down on me-."

Reid's glare falls to mine awfully quick, "No. I'm jus' surprised you got a boyfriend who likes to cook." He snaps, cutting my first assumption in half.

Scorpius shakes his head, his risen hackles puffing out even more at the derogatory taunt. Manics are known for enjoying the rougher sides of nightlife.

"Yeah, well you're a prejudiced small-city fuck with a chip on your shoulder and a bad attitude. No surprises here." Scor spears his machete in the ground, fuming at Reid. "Thai said you'd want this." He chucks a set of shorts at Reid's muscular chest who catches them with a simmering expression, but Scor has already turned away. He drops the bag at the log and turns to me, disregarding the threat in the air, as though acknowledging it would be the tipping point to make him throw the first punch.

"You know how to pick 'em." Scor snaps at me, his blue eyes meeting mine with a dose of judgement, angry and disapproving. "You're fuck for brains, you know that?"

Reid wrinkles his face up as he tugs his shorts on, disliking the accusation which implicates him, but more than anything, confused. That's not what a boyfriend would say.

"Yeah, chat some more shit." I mutter, gritting my teeth as I try to stretch my neck out. Scor steps around me, pulling my hair off my neck as I refuse to acknowledge Reid. The intimacy of the action earns a jealous, vindicated glare, "Not like you got two legs to stand on." I don't focus on Reid and bicker back at Scorpius instead.

Scor grumbles in reply, loosening my bra strap as he inspects my shoulder, and I gasp at the instant alleviation of pressure, "You're a dumbass I told you to take it off." He snaps but I close my eyes to stifle an argument, however, he rebuts my bitchy expression, "No for real, it's extenuating the trauma. You still got that singlet? Or you got to wear one of mine?"