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CHAPTER THREE: BILLIE'S BACK IN TOWN..
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DANIEL'S ARM WRAPPED AROUND BILLIE'S SHOULDERS AS SHE HELPED HIM UP, TRYING HER HARDEST NOT TO HURT HIM MORE IN THE PROCESS. She'd already caused Daniel enough pain, and didn't plan on causing him anymore.
"You ready to start walking over to the parking lot?" Billie asked, throwing a concerned look over her right shoulder at Daniel's slumped-over state. He let out a sigh and titled his head towards Billie, showing her the black eye that was forming on his face.
"Yeah, sure," he replied shortly, probably do to the hit he took to his stomach. Billie could guess that he was still recovering from getting the air knocked out of him, as his breathing was abnormally rough.
Billie gave him a small smile for encouragement and began slowly walking towards her motorcycle and the parking lot, taking note that all the others that attended the party had left. It would have been ignorant of her to not notice the fact that nobody but her had actually attempted to help Daniel—which honestly surprised her. She had at least thought that Freddy and his friends would have at least tried to help him up from the sand, but apparently they cared more about their popularity than their morals. Shallow assholes. Billie cursed them in her head as she gazed forward at the parking lot.
As they approached the bike, Billie couldn't help but find herself taking long glances at the boy slouched onto her shoulders; even when he was beaten and battered, Daniel still managed to look absolutely adorable. And for the likes of her, Billie just couldn't understand why. Maybe he put me under some sort of curse. She tried to conclude, almost rolling her eyes at her reasoning.
Silence had taken over the air surrounding Billie and Daniel as they made it to her motorcycle. It wasn't awkward, per say, just quiet. Billie liked the quiet sometimes—most times—but she couldn't help but feel oddly inclined to eliminate it. So she did.
"So, uh, I wanna thank you—"
"That's your motorcycle?" Daniel suddenly piqued up, removing his arm from around Billie's shoulder and staring at it in awe.
"Yeah, it is," Billie answered proudly, smiling down at her orange bike with glowing eyes. "The orange didn't come on it, though. I painted it myself."
"Wow, I've never met a girl with a motorcycle before—or really anybody our age with one as big as this one," Daniel said, turning his bruised face away from the bike and back at Billie. "Who bought it for you?"
