billie || billie eilish

11

Landon Orion 

"Wait for me outside." Billie had called me at twelve thirty a.m. that morning, telling me to dress warm. Bring a coat."

What do you mean?" I asked, holding my phone to my ear while stepping into my rubber boots. "Why?"

"Just do it," she insisted, her voice static. 

Biilie's bike kicked up flecks of mud when she stopped in front of my house. She wore a pair of baggy jeans pulled up over the swell of her hips and a wool jumper that stopped abruptly beneath the lump of her breast. I looked away. I was a confused mess of aroused and annoyed with her. Wanted to suck her red lips and chew her out for waking me up this early in the morning all the same. 

"W-why are you dressed like that? I thought we were going to work on our project."

"We are," she insisted. "I've been talking to a few of my friends about acting roles in our film." 

On the other side of the city, she pulled me into Wellington Tatoo Shop. "What are we doing here?" I asked her. 

Billie didn't say anything. Beyond the counter, a girl dressed in all black, dark skinny jeans and a leather jacket and heeled boots, walked up to us. Her cropped hair dark and her coffee colored eyes sharp. 

"If you're looking for my dad, he's not in day," she told us, speaking more to Billie than me in her husky tone. She smoothed her tattooed hand through her dark hair. 

Billie gave her a sweet smile, pecking the girl on her upturned lips. I looked away, my heart sinking. 

"I don't mind having you," Billie flirted. "As long as you're gentle with me." 

The girl, who introduced herself by the name Ashlae, smirked. "You know I'm incapable of being gentle with you, baby. What were you thinking about getting?" 

Billie showed her a drawing of a squiggly crescent moon, crimson coloured. Eyes bloody dots in its dented head. 

"You should come to my party," Ashlae said, her tattoo needle hot against the flushed skin of Billie's forearm. 

"Only if my plus one doesn't mind tagging along," Billie said, trying to be playful but I could tell that she was faltering beneath the pain. 

Ashlae lowered her tattoo needle to Billie's wrist and she whimpered, grabbing my hand. "Fuck, Ashlae."

I pressed my thighs together, willing away the heat pooling in my lap. I was torn between prying Ashlae's fingers off of Billie and tightening my grip on her trembling hand. Suddenly, I felt very protective of her. 

"You're hurting her," I growled. 

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Billie told Ashlae. She was trying to break the tension between the two of us—I could tell. 

"What?" Ashlae asked, giving me a look. I turned my face away. 

"We need actors for a film we've doing for school," Billie explained. "I was wondering if you were interested." 

"That sounds fun," Ashlae said. "What's it about?" 

"It's kind of a twist on the traditional documentary," I began saying, laying Billie's hand in my lap. Ashlae glanced at me. Good. Billie's grip on my hand tightening. She stared up at me through her lashes, rose lips parted. 

I looked away, burning alive. 

"I'm in," Ashlae said.