Study Buddies// BILLIE EILISH

eight

I turn red purely from embarrassment, "I don't have friends"

I put my head down, regret pouring over me. Why did I say that?

I hear steps coming closer to me and soon see bulky sneakers enter my line of vision. Billie places her hand under my chin to lift my face up to hers. Our faces are so close I can feel her hot breath on my lips.

I go to back away and I am met with my desk, holding me into her.

She smirks, "I'm not surprised" her lips brushing against mine ever-so-slightly. 

I am left in a daze when she pulls her face away from mine with an evil grin. I am so hungry for her and she knows it. She knows it. She has to know. Why else would she smirk when I am left flustered, or call me pet names or make me talk to her if she didn't know?

That makes me angry. She's toying with my heart and she knows it. I could get seriously hurt right now and she doesn't care.

I don't care.

I like what she does to me. I like it when she toys with me. Gawd, why do I like this? She's going to hurt me! And I don't care? I don't care.

I come out of my thoughts, looking to an expressionless Billie, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I want to be closer to her.

I speak again, making my way next to her on the bed, "So you did a festival show. Who went with you?" I am sitting close enough to her that our shoulders are touching, relieving some of my intense longing.

she turns her head to look at me, her eyes moving down to where our arms are touching, and back up to my eyes, "getting attached, lesbian?"

My face goes white and I back away. She smirks at me, patiently waiting for a response. What the hell am I supposed to say? I tic. Fuck, I hate those.

Billie squints her eyes at me, "what is that you do with your head?"

I open my mouth and nothing comes out.

"speak" she glares.

"I-, um, they are tics." I say hesitantly. She makes a gesture with her hand, telling me to elaborate. "I have anxiety so when it spikes, my body releases the energy with physical tics."

Thinking about it just makes me tic more. My eyes dart around the room as my head swings to either side. I take a deep breath, please go away. 

Her face changes from hard and intimidating to softer and concerned, "How can I help? Why are you anxious?"

Bitch. Why do you think? "Y-you. You."

A "Fuck" leaves her lips and she wraps her arms around me for the second time today and pulls me into her lap. Her firm grip around my body held my face in her chest, restricting my tics, helping them subside.

Why do I have to embarrass myself like this? Anxiety can be a real bitch. A few moments pass of lying in her comforting grasp, her fingers combing through my hair, her fingers combing through my hair? She can really switch up fast. I'm not complaining.

After enjoying her hold for a couple more minutes, I speak up. "Sorry about that, Billie. Anxiety is a bitch" I say, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"You're good." she releases me from her grasp and stands up to walk around my room again.

"Okay, so tell me more about your summer so I can get you a good grade" I smile.

"Okay, where do I start?" She continues talking and tells me about fun memories she had of enjoying time with her family and writing music with her brother. "- but don't put that in there" she clarifies after telling me about how he saved her life and she would do anything for him.

"Oh, but it's cute though!" I respond.

I am beginning to forget about her intimidating and aggressive tendencies.

"Yeah, yeah." Billie says and then tenses up. "So, you got enough information to write this shit?"

"Yeah I think so." I say with a small smile.

"Good." she says shortly.

She continues to walk around my room, peeking at my possessions like she has been for the past 10 minutes, and begins opening drawers and boxes likes it's her own place.

"Okay, that's enough, Billie. Those are my private things" 

She turns from the drawer she was about to open and smirks at me, "Afraid of what I might find?" Her fingers fondle the handle teasingly.

Yes, Billie. The drawer you are about to open has my journal in there.

"It's just private is all" I say, getting nervous.

She squints at me and removes her hand from the drawer handle. She looks at me for a long while with that intimidating look of hers until I awkwardly look down to my hands. She breaks the awkward silence. "So are you gonna write my essay or not?"

I look up from my hands, "Oh, um, I was gonna do it after you left. You might get bored."

She smirks, "Nah, I'll just watch you."

Watch me? That's scary, "Oh, o-okay" I move over to my desk and open my laptop.

"Good girl" she praises, sitting behind me on my bed.

Oh I am so, so gay.

I brush off her words before I overthink it and begin laying out an essay. The whole time I am working, I can feel Billie's intense gaze and it gets distracting at times. I also keep hearing the bed creak behind me like she is readjusting herself. She hasn't spoken the whole time and I can't see her, but just her presence is throwing me off, not to mention her intoxicating vanilla scent.

I finish typing a very rough draft, and her presence gets closer behind me making my heart begin to race. I feel hands on either of my shoulders as Billie leans over my head to get a closer look at the screen.

"Damn, mama, you work fast" she comments, giving my shoulders a small squeeze.

She gives me so many butterflies. "It's just a rough draft" I reason.

"Shit, my final drafts be lookin' like that."

I giggle.

"Alright, princess, I should get going. Fin wants me home for dinner." She says, lightly rubbing her thumbs over my shoulder.

I am a little disappointed but I understand, I mean she has to go home at some point. "Okay"

Before removing her hands, she runs them further up my shoulders to brush around my neck. I shiver a little and she chuckles. "Bye Cameron."

"Bye" I say, still shook and sitting in my desk chair.

Why does she always have to leave me a red and shaking mess.