. show off

[isaac mcavoy]

"Fuck, if Joe was a woman," he said, clutching his chest with longing. In truth a heterosexual female Joe would probably have as much interest in him as the heterosexual male one, too close to him to see him as anything but a horrific mess. She starts speaking rapidly and he can't help but grin, loving this unfiltered version of her even though he'd seen her be plenty honest before. He takes a deep drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke over his shoulder as he waits with bated breath for what she's going to say next. "Oh," he says, though he's pleasantly surprised at the request, brandishing a cigarette for her. He holds up the lighter for her to ignite the tip. "Don't worry, I promise not to tell Joe." He imagines his best friend finding the two cigarette stubs, one laced with lipstick. Who would he assume had been here? Lily was probably the last person he'd ever consider, maybe even after Aisha. It was one thing to imagine her sneaking in to his place to hang out with Zac behind his back, something else entirely to imagine her smoking. As she speaks his eyebrows travel up his forehead, threatening to disappear behind his hairline. "You think I need to have fucked you to know I'm in love you?" He pauses, as if deep in thought. "Thinking about it, you're right, no way of knowing until we try. Let's go upstairs."

[lily mccarthy]

Lily scoffs, nudging him under the table with her Birkenstock. "I'm starting to think you're mixing up which McCarthy you're in love with." She can all but imagine the wedding, both of them running around in oversized cake topper dresses and importing some incredibly expensive bourbon. Her eyes narrow when she vaguely wonders if that was a tour wrap party some years ago - so much of it a blur of fun but recklessness, avoiding the bad to always see the good. A classic McCarthy trait - something they both had inherited, much to Isaac's benefit. The nicotine's a strange comfort as it ignites, smoke filtering out of her lips and into the night as she thanks him. Another secret for them to hold onto, another thing, albeit small, that they'd have to keep from him. It unsettled her just how much avoiding she was doing with her own brother, shrugging her shoulders before taking another drag. "Just part of a relationship, I don't know!" Lily puts her hands up in a question, rolling her eyes at him again as she gestures towards the house they preoccupied. "Funny, look where we are. One of the top bedrooms I'd least like to fuck in in my life - great choice."

[isaac mcavoy]

"I'm not." His eyes are on hers, the stillness of the night falling around them. It's strange seeing her with a cigarette, though he knew his image of her purity had been shaped by the fact he knew her through her brother and she had spent a lot of the time they had known each other shielding him for the truth of her life for fear Zac would snitch on her, which he absolutely would have. He's not sure when the balance tipped, when she went from acquaintance to friend to confidant, but the progression from one to the other had been a slow burn, slow enough for him to not even notice it until it was third degree. He watches her again, constantly finding him transfixed by her small movements. The sky behind her is awash with stars and if this wasn't her brother's house it really would be the perfect venue. Tapping the cigarette against his plate, ash dusting his leftovers, he can't help letting his eyes roam over her for a second. "Gotta leave some things to discover." This time he doesn't laugh or smile, giving them nowhere to hide. He leans closer across the table, his voice dropping ever so slightly when he speaks. "It's funny you bring it up, since smoking makes you look almost offensively hot." Now he laughs, nodding along with what she's saying. "How about the pool? The spare room? My car? I'm not fussy."

[lily mccarthy]

God, it's so clear. The night, the weight of his confession, Lily itching to lace their hands together again just for something steady to hold on to. "You're gonna make me blush," she murmurs, looking away even as she feels the warmth flood her face again. She wasn't sure when the balance tipped either, when she stopped hiding her everyday life from him. But it had, and the gratitude hadn't been hard to hide tonight. "Feels very Evangelical Christian - no sex until marriage," she laughs, reaching over to dispose of her ashes on the plate. Typically she'd prefer a joint, the best way to ease her rapid thoughts and wine-drenched tongue, but this was working for now. Drawing her in, much like Isaac was subcontiously, body pitching his direction without a second though. Close, she hears the warning again, but the timber of his voice ripples goosebumps under her Bode cardigan, staring straight at him as she takes another drags and lets it drawl out of her mouth. Dancing back and forth over the lines, much like her eyes flicked to the home. "Well, I am." She hovers in his space a few moments more before sliding back, cocking her head in a question. "Is there dessert, or is soft serve drive-thru on the horizon?"

[isaac mcavoy]

A flush drapes across her cheeks and Isaac melts at the sight. It's a new sensation for him, the intoxicating mix of finding someone so achingly sweet that everything she did made him implode with affection, spiked with the deep and sudden bouts of lust he had when she did something to remind him that she was an impossibly pretty girl. He wanted to protect her from the world, but he wanted to corrupt her... the sight of her blush makes him want to see the flush of her chest, a sheen of sweat between them. He shifts where he's sat, suddenly unable to pull himself from the thoughts that are swimming around his head. But it's clear that that's not on the menu. He finishes his drink, though his throat still feels dry. "Is marriage on the cards?" The smoke creeps around her lip and he has to look away, determinedly looking at a spot on the ground as he finished his cigarette. He puts it out on his plate, clearing his throat. "Fuck," he mutters, the smell of her perfume lingering on the air as she invades his side of the table. But she's gone before he can breathe too much of it in. "I'm not much of a dessert guy. I've got an apple fritter weed vape we can share, how's that? Or yeah, a drive-thru. I'm an eternal designated driver now."

[lily mccarthy]

It's dangerous, what she's doing. Feeding into the cloying feelings, pushing forward in their tenuous give and take. But he'd been able to draw out her tells easily, the easy color to her cheeks, the sharp hitches of her breath. It was only fair she tried to return the favor, a leap of excitement in her nerves as the dark of his pupils constricted, gaze shifting away. Never had the attraction been so palpable between them, Lily also ghosting away from it the moment she realized. Not the place, not the time. "Yes, to Joe apparently," she finally responds, casually shifting herself back into a semblance of normalcy as she ground her cigarette out on the porcelain. They'd have to get rid of that evidence, much like the evidence of anything happening tonight until they were ready to revisit it again. Content with the repair of their friendship, confirmed in wondering about possibilities of more. It's enough, she thinks, pushing herself up from her chair as the world tilts slightly around her. "Both," Lily decides, offering her hand to him. "I crave sweets when I get stoned. Think the drive-thru cashier will blind item us?"

[isaac mcavoy]

There had been so many instances of them sitting together in plush (and not so plush) hotel rooms, left entirely to their own devices, and yet this was the most suffocating the tension between them had ever been. Every breath was harder than the last, the air pressing in on them oppressively, heat rising to his cheeks. His eyes keep falling to her lips, his own caught between his teeth as the silence stretches between them. He bites down hard, trying to sharpen up.  She moves and the spell is broken, bringing with it a sense of relief that quickly gives way to disappointment. The sour-sweetness, the hot and cold. "Only one way to find out. Let me get my keys," he says, his mind still swimming with the what-ifs of their previous conversation. Standing, he collects the plates, heading towards the house only to stop when he's about to step over the threshold. Unable to stop himself, he turns to her and leans down so she can hear his lowered voice. "Just know that I'm going to make your legs shake one of these days Lily McCarthy. I can't wait to hear the way you say my name." Before she can reply, he steps inside and starts loading up the dishwasher, nodding behind himself at the fridge. When he speaks, his tone is breezy. "We better take that wine bottle out or Joey will think I'm the one who drank it."

[lily mccarthy]

She thinks she's taken this one. Ball held possessively in her court, passing the time without the heavy weight of the game on her mind. But oh, is she wrong, swept in by the smoke in his voice and the fire of that promise. Frozen in place, turning sharply away from him as she breathes in the crisp New Mexico air, willing her heart to calm down, palms clasped over her face. Willing her mind to stop calculating every single instance they could find a way to make that happen. They'd never been here before, unleashed in their attraction so actively, and if this was just the beginning she had no idea how much more she could stand, alight with the chase as much as its intentions. But try she did, gathering what was left of her nerves as she eyes the empty bottle. The plan forms almost instantaneously, Lily sliding behind him to pluck it off the counter, fingers ghosting along his shoulder as her lips brush the shell of his ear. "I can't wait to hear you say mine," she murmurs, spinning away to track down the recycling in the garage they'd have to get rid of on their excursion. Innocent smile plastered on her face when she steps back in. "Ready?"

[isaac mcavoy]

Theirs was a relationship defined by volleying. Even before they started to tread this dangerous line, their conversations were a battle of wits, jokes thrown at each other, caught and returned with ease. Now that dynamic had taken an R rated turn and he's not sure he's cut out for it, not if he's supposed to be able to maintain a facade of normalcy at the same time. As if to confirm his concerns, he feels the heat of her body tantalisingly close to his own, her voice taking on the husky quality he had previously only heard in the recording booth. It sends a shudder down his spine, his blood turning hot as he grips the edge of the kitchen island. She's gone and he's glad, her absence giving him the pause he needs to regain his composure. 1-1, OK. He'd get the one up on her again soon, that much he was sure of. "Ready," he says, forcing a blasé tone that was not at all how he felt. Scooping up his keys, he leads the way to his car, looking forward to the blast of the air con to give him a final opportunity to cool down. As they step in, a grin creeps across his face as he goes to start it up. "You'll love this." Firing it up, it starts playing his music where it was left off, which happened to be mid way through one of her album tracks. "Do you know this artist? I think she's about to be really big."

[lily mccarthy]

Walking out to the car, light breeze shifting her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, Lily isn't sure if they've made their lives harder, or more fun. The heartfelt conversation lies dormant in exchange for lust-doused whispers, as if they were flipping the typical cycle of a relationship. Funny how that word hadn't come up seriously in all of this, mixed in with humor and the light hearted back and forth they were used to. Maybe because they'd faked one anyway, finding themselves here in its wake. Thank god she'd remembered to deactivate the cameras at Joey's house from the app. The tension breaks further when the familiar notes of her own voice play from his stereo, buckling her seatbelt before pushing against the window in mock horror. "Oh god, did I just get in the car with a stalker?" She'd luckily, over time, gotten over the sound of hearing her own voice through speakers, in her own headset, tour setting aside any awkward feeling as she nodded her way through. "Do you have your own albums favorited on Spotify?" Lily asks, flicking to something coffeehouse radio before reaching for his hand again. Tracing the callouses of the pads of his fingers, the tiny outlines of the tattoos that lived there. Always learning, even when she knew so much, eyes gently curving toward the windshield. "To Dairy Queen, sir."

[isaac mcavoy]

Yet another rehab discovery had been that his sins against individual women weren't just the consequence of his poor decision making skills, but also evidence of a pattern that could only mean one thing: he did not respect women as a whole. It had been a bitter pill to swallow when his counsellor had gently raised the possibility of it, but how could he deny it in the face of the evidence? He had cheated on his wife whilst they were trying for a baby, and done so with someone so much younger and more famous than himself. He had gone on to date that girl's friend, and gone on to cheat on that girl with another. Even after he'd vowed to stay single for fear of his own recklessness, he'd still somehow managed to find himself sleeping with Lily's best friend, a girl whose name he had only committed to remembering recently. It wasn't a good rap sheet. Lily was the only woman he could think of who he found sexually attractive and worthy of his respect, which made him feel rightfully ashamed. "Oh yeah. I'm actually driving you to a specially made dungeon in the basement of my house, though we can still stop off for snacks en route." Maybe he respected her because he hadn't allowed himself to see her as a sexual being, until today. The friendship had come first, so it was easier to behave like a decent human being. "Fuck yeah I do. Don't you?" Her hand slips neatly into his and it feels like it belongs there. Before he can stop himself he lifts their conjoined hands and kisses the back of hers. "Dairy Queen it is."

[lily mccarthy]

"A generous stalker, my lucky day." Eyes still cast down at their hands, content in the quiet of the car and familiar tune of the music, Lily's mind eases into the comfort they shared. If she was feeling sharp, or too analytical, she'd be running their history over with a magnifying class. Remembering Cleo, her best friend, how he'd treated her. But she pointedly silenced it all, deciding that his clean slate, this 6 months, would be hers as well. Anything from here was on the both of them. "Yes, but I only have one full one," she scoffs, imagining his playlists are just Cat's Cradle's greatest hits. It was insane sometimes to look up the play through numbers, still unable to fathom the magnitude with which they grew. Even with her brother directly involved it was probably impossible to describe, understanding now how a solace like New Mexico was so important. A place where anyone scarcely cared, something in her chest shifting as they pulled up. Untangling their linked hands, feeling the imprint of his lips on her skin, Lily leans over him to yell her order out the window, mindful of the drive-thru cameras until they pull forward to wait in line. It just feels so domestic, so every day, so freeing, Lily has half a mind to kiss him in thanks. Instead she picks their hands back up, studying again to hide the sudden rush rippling under her veins. "Which tattoo's your favorite?"

[isaac mcavoy]

The night stretches around them, full of infinite possibilities. Though it's too soon to say, their closeness feels like a reward for what he's been through, for the letters he had to write to every wronged party in his life. There was a quiet determination that had embedded itself in Zac's chest since he first checked in for that last rehab stint, an acknowledgement that something finally had to change for good. He'd behaved with a casual cruelty that made him cringe now and he was going to make amends, one step at a time.  Lily was a natural inspiration for this new version of himself. Never cruel, never selfish, she was a role model without knowing it. His laughter rings out between them. "You've seen how little Spotify pays, every stream counts." They pull in to a familiar Dairy Queen, one of the hotspots for snack stops during recording. He only orders a milkshake, realising the conversation they'd been having had left his insides so churned that he couldn't think about food... something he'd probably regret after they got home to smoke. As he leans over to pay he can see that familiar glint of recognition in the cashier's eye, the subtlest double take as she glimpsed from his face to the name emblazoned across the metal card. It was funny, he was recognised a lot more in LA but people had so much more of a sense of entitlement there, whilst people here seemed shocked more than anything. He gives her a wide smile and taps in a tip that's bigger than the order value, pulling forward to wait for the food. Her hand is back in his and he smiles at her question. "They don't really have some huge hidden meanings," he says, avoiding looking at the 'G' on one finger. He lifts the hand her's is entwined with, nodding at the wishbone sat under his thumb. "Good reminder of how lucky I am," he says, looking at her pretty face in the neon light. "Speaking of luck, I'm really glad we bumped into each other."

[lily mccarthy]

Lily remembers being here in high school. The introduction of another fast food chain had rattled their community, hearing parent's complain during school pick-up as she walked out to her car. For her though, and so many others, it had become a late night haven, sitting in the parking lot catching up with friends, neon sign flashing on their faces. She'd had her first sip of vodka in a backseat here, chasing the taste with a Reese's Blizzard that did little to mask the medicinal swig. It's almost crazy to look back on it now, casually shifting her gaze out the window to try to avoid recognition. If anyone had told her growing up she'd be back at some point sitting opposite a glorified rock star, one successful album in her own pocket, she's not sure she would have believed them. Lily catches the cashier's reaction in the reflection of her window, grinning as she pulled her legs in to rest her chin on her knees. "She's about to set off the employee group chat," she says teasingly, imagining the scene before it quickly melts away in exchange for his answers. Her thumb traces subtly over the wishbone in response, turning her head back to face him. "Today? Or in our lifetime? I feel like the latter was inevitable. The former, maybe that wishbone did have a hand in it."

[isaac mcavoy]

In many ways New Mexico felt more like home than Nova Scotia did. Whilst his mom was a good and loving mom to him, he and his brother had little in common and Halifax had felt too small for him almost from birth, he wore his hometown like shoes that were too small and pinched. There might have been an alternate reality where he felt engulfed in warmth and nostalgia at the thought of his childhood home, but his dad's unexpected and unexplained death had made the house feel like a morgue, or a morbid museum dedicated to a family that no longer existed. His mom had remarried two years later and sixteen year old Zac had stood in a suit and felt something inside himself crack, the damage setting him up for sixteen years of bad choices.  The McCarthys had provided a solace when he'd needed it. Looking at her now, he wonders if she was as broken by death as he was, or if she'd been able to heal more neatly. "You might want to give your publicist a heads up that we've been spotted together." He can't help the question that follows, knowing it could sour the mood but lacking the self control to manage it. "And that guy. Would that guy care?" It's a question that's burned inside him since she broke up with him. Was it down to him? "Today," he confirms, laughing as she strokes the relatively fresh tattoo. "I thought the next time I'd see you would be at Joe's wedding, or maybe his birthday. Whichever came first."