Gunsmoke » B. Hargrove

twenty-two

     Chapter Twenty-Two: Love me, Choose Me

"You're mad."

That much was obvious, which was why Billy strided past her, a cig fresh on his lips with a plume of smoke to follow. The red pack of camels he favored remained snugly tucked in the right pocket of his jean jacket, another lighter one layered underneath alongside a fitted grey tank. He looked almost too handsome with his gold Mary Magdalene dangling from his neck, . "I called your house nearly ten times like some pussy-whipped little boy." Billy shouted, his head only turning half-way, forcing himself not to meet her gaze because if he stood too close; if he looked at her too hard he'd catch himself admiring the way her legs looked in her little skirt or how her nose scrunched so adorably when she pursed her lips in contempt. "I am not that guy."

"No, you're just the guy who screams our business out to the world like a child instead of just fucking talking to me." Zara retorted with a bite, one fury filled finger pointing in his direction as she stomped towards him, her chunky heels clicking roughly against the pavement. She sucked in a greedy breath, holding back her words as both their heads turned in unison to face a flock of girls that had been skulking by—lingering near a car that Zara was positive wasn't theirs. They looked vaguely familiar; a group of faces she was sure she'd seen in passing in the hallways—freshmen no doubt by the way they practically drooled at the possibility of catching a crumb of gossip to feast upon. "Do you need something?"

A chorus of retreating shoes dragging against pavement was their only response, fair faces heating into an angry blush as they scurried past; one girl so bold as to drag a sultry hand against Billy's bicep.

Zara scoffed, her eyes rolling in disgust at the attempt at seduction. "Seriously?" Billy didn't even try to hide his smug grin; always a glutton for praise no matter who it came from. He tucked a chunky lock of wavy hair behind his ear, fingers itching to grab at the cigarettes in his pocket—he'd even almost resisted the urge until Sinclair glared up at him with those perfect brown eyes, her arms crossed over her chest as she refused to back down; never allowing him to wallow in his bullshit longer than a second since the moment they'd met. "Why do I even bother?"

The smug look slid of the moment she decided that she'd had enough; her heels clicking as she pushed past him, her shoulder knocking into his like some petulant little child—but she didn't care. Sure, she hadn't been around to answer a few phone calls but it wasn't like she could just flat out tell him she'd spent the entirely of her evening chopping up bait to lure a murderous creature from another dimension and by time she'd gotten home, Zara was too exhausted to even change out of her jeans before she'd collapsed into her bed and fell asleep.

She was too drained to even be having this conversation; the never ending loop of what had happened the night prior flashing behind her eyelids like a motion-picture movie. Witnessing Dustin's little pet creep through the clearing, the inhuman noises it made as it gobbled up their bait until Dart had decided that he wanted something better—something fresh and alive. It wanted a chase; dying to hunt and Steve gave him just that. With his spiked bat and unwavering bravery, he'd offered himself up to the demedogs (a name Dustin had come up with and it stuck). Zara stayed behind with the kids, protectively hiding Lucas, Dustin and Max behind her body as more demedogs emerged. Steve had barely gotten away; rushing back to base—a makeshift bus covered in the scattered scrap metal until the demedogs tore it to pieces. Only running away after being called by the leader of the hive; rushing away so quickly that the group could barely comprehend what had happened.

It was too much.

So much danger—too many opportunities for someone to get hurt.

The fear alone nearly crippled her if it wasn't for the fact that she had to remain strong for Lucas; for Dustin and Max. They were so young—too young and terrifyingly ready to risk their lives in order to save another.

"Don't you walk away from me," Billy shouted, ripping her from her thoughts as a half-smoked cigarette was flicked away in an instant, his free hand reaching out to grip at her wrist just enough to pull her back. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Well, I'm done with you," Zara struggled uselessly in his grip, her bouncing back to her starting point every time she tried to walk away. Any other day she would've found it attractive—the clipped bite to his tone and fire burning beneath ocean blues. "—and to think I was going to apologize." Her tone grew in her frustration, yanking her arm so hard Billy was worried she'd break it just to get away from him. "Let me go!"

"I was mad," Billy finally confessed, his hands releasing from her form the second she stopped fighting. It was almost pathetic, the way her whole body language had shifted the moment his tone softened. "—that you weren't answering the phone because you were out with Harrington."

Zara's brows furrowed. "She said that?" It wasn't a complete shock, Erica had lied on her behalf more often than she truly cared to admit.

"Was she wrong?"

"No," Zara admitted barely above a whisper, figuring that even a half-truth was better than a complete lie. "I was with Steve but in the way you think."

He was breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling in alignment with the racing thoughts that filtered through Billy's head—too afraid or too ashamed to voice them aloud in fear of giving into the feeling of vulnerability. "Tell me then, what you were two so busy doing that you couldn't pick up the phone?"

He'd given her enough time to finally take him in, her warm gaze morphing into worry after clocking the slight swell of his cheekbone—physical evidence of his fathers misplaced anger after his stepmom had came home the night prior to find Max's room empty. "We were helping my brother and Max sneak out so they could go on a date—to the movies." The lie came almost too easily, positive that he wouldn't have even bothered asking Max if it was the truth. "Steve and I watched them from a few rows back. We got them milkshakes after and brought her back before anyone noticed," Zara grimaced, one hand raising to brush over the slight swell of his cheek. "—or so we thought. I'm really sorry I got you in trouble. I just wanted her to like me—she always looks so moody and she hates it here. Was just trying to make sure she had a good time; make a few good memories and all that. I really am sorry. "

She watched the furrow of his brow soften, his cheek nuzzling subtly into the warm of her hand that lingered near his face. "Don't be," He murmured, too manually exhausted to fight when she'd made him feel so safe with nothing more than a soft touch. He hadn't had that before—not since his mom.

Billy saw so much of her in Zara, her giving heart, her caring soul and the calming cadence of her voice. It made him forget why he was even angry in the first place. "Walk me to class?" Zara asked with a hopeful smile growing from the corner of her mouth.

And for the first time, their hands publicly intertwined and even though there wasn't an official title or anything—Billy had claimed her as his own and everyone at Hawkins High fucking saw it.