Blend

HALFTIME | the way she sees me

DEVYN FALLS asleep on my shoulder as I drive back to Desert Grove Apartments. Apparently side effects of possession include lightheadedness, fatigue, and the inability to lie convincingly to parents. We agree the best place for her recovery is my place.

I drive with my elbows locked in place on the wheel, stealing glances of her at every red light. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to her company. The thought of her mango scent on my couch, on my bed—fuck, in the very air. I've never wanted anyone to invade all five of my senses before.

But Devyn deserves better. She shouldn't be caught up in shit like mine. In fact, I should tell her as much. I should tell her to leave in the morning and never look back.

My face hardens.

But she won't. No matter how hard I beg. I know this like I know the sky is blue. This girl could go to jail because of me yet she continues to stay. And something about that makes me want to pull this car over and scream into the night until I drain my lungs of anger.

I steal another glance of her. It don't matter how much I want her, I won't complicate things by telling her my feelings. It's the least I can do.

We still need to catch Peewee's killer and prove I'm innocent. But the cynic in me—the part that's tasted how fucked up America really is—whispers that ain't happening. We're no closer to catching the killer than we were when this all started. And I don't want Devyn feeling like she needs to visit me in prison for the rest of her life.

As soon as we get inside, I lay Devyn on the mattress in the bedroom. She curls into a ball and I swipe some of her twists out of her face, wishing I had a blanket to make her more comfortable.

I stand up to leave.

"Wait. Don't go."

Like a retractable leash, I reverse and sink back into the bed. "You need somethin'? Water, food, my hoodie—you cold?"

She flips on her side, her top riding up. I swallow, unable to shift my eyes from the peeking lace.

"I don't wanna be alone." She slides closer. "Please stay."

My jaw tightens and so do my jeans. The things she does to me. But I gotta get a grip.

"Alright, I'll stay," I manage in a cool tone. I settle onto the mattress beside her—me on my back and she on her side.

It's funny. After all of the wildness tonight, it's like the game clock is giving me respite. A pause. No, wait—halftime.

"Thanks," she says. A few beats pass. Then, "I saw another spirit at Peewee's vigil. The scary kind. They might've followed us." 

Something about the way she says this has the hair up on my neck. "The scary kind?"

She shrugs, twisting a braid. "I call them demons."