It was nearing the end of Billie's lunch hour, and though she'd just gotten to campus, she'd already spent the entire morning stressed out. She sat at her small table in the library, her Physics textbook cracked open yet again, as she had realized that she'd never gotten back to her homework problem. It was due in a few hours; time in which Billie would have otherwise spent doing literally anything else. But the thing about physics was that it always took her forever. So she over-prepared, getting to school much earlier than she needed to, to take classes she didn't want to take.
Her earbuds remained in her ears, the grinding of heavy metal drowning out the scurrying and bustling of students that blurrily moved around her. She bit down on the end of her pen; a nervous habit she'd had since she was old enough to stress. Her fingers tapped the keys of her calculator, retrying the same equation over and over, and still getting no correct answer.
Billie could feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck in agonizing frustration.
"Fucking James," she muttered, rolling her eyes. He'd never helped her with the problem, and she still hadn't seen him yet; the both of them had been so caught up in their date that she'd never finished the complicated equation. "Dammit, James," she huffed to herself.
Then, as if he was summoned, he slid into the chair across from her, reaching out and plucking out one of her earbuds. Instantly, this caught her attention, and she jumped a bit at the surprise sensation.
"You rang?" He said, overhearing her muttering his name. James was in a great mood; he hadn't stopped thinking about Billie all morning and had looked forward to seeing her. He thought that maybe she'd look at him differently now. Maybe she'd smile at the sight of him. Maybe she'd bite her lip when he said something funny. Maybe she had been thinking about him all morning, too.
But James was in for a surprise.
"Fuck. You." Billie said, her voice flat and her face straight. James threw up his hands in defense.
"Whoa, what the hell?"
Her eyes still glued to him, Billie removed her other earbud, bunching the chords up in a wad and shoving them into the pocket of her jacket. She then picked up her thick notebook, rotated it, and smacked it down onto the table, right in James's line of sight.
As James looked down at the pad covered in what were clearly angry scribbles and jumbled equations, he immediately remembered his half of their deal.
His half that he didn't even try to remember to complete.
Apologetically, he closed his eyes.
"I forgot-,"
"Oh, you forgot?" Billie said, her tone sarcastic. "Well, gee, all is forgiven."
"Blue," James said, sighing. "Come on, I'm sorry."
"You know how I get about these things, James," she said, scolding him. "I've been stressing all damn morning."
"I can tell," he said, nodding toward the mangled pen in Billie's hand. "You should try gum."
James cracked a grin, but Billie wasn't amused. Irritated, she slammed her textbook shut and stood, hurriedly beginning to gather up all of her things.
"You know what? Just forget it. I'll go to Flaherty's study hall and ask him."
"You hate study hall-,"
"I hate a lot of things."
Billie stuffed her things into her backpack, huffing and puffing through it all. Once down to her notebook, she reached across the table to grab it from James.
But he didn't hand it over.
He waited for her to look at him.
"Blue," he said, his hand pinning the notebook down to the table. "You're being ridiculous."
She stared him down.
"I'm being responsible."
"You have hours until Flaherty's class," James pointed out. He harshened his tone so that she'd take him seriously. "Sit your ass down."
"Fuck you," she said again, swiping at the notebook.
But James didn't budge.
And neither did his gaze.
Without needing any other words from him, Billie rolled her eyes. Angrily, she dropped her backpack to the floor and plopped herself right back down into her seat.
At the pout in her lips and the irritation in her eyes, James was reminded just how much he loved her.
He swapped sides of the table, sitting beside her and giving her back her notebook. Then, he reached into her backpack and retrieved the textbook, all while Billie sat there, arms crossed, stubborn-willed, watching him. James laid out her pen and her calculator right back in front of her, flipping open the book back to its dog-eared page.
"I hate you sometimes," Billie grumbled.
"Yeah, and you piss me off on a daily basis," James bit right back. Then, he looked at her, pulling up one corner of his mouth. And gradually, Billie's lips began to twitch upward.
---------
The day was coming to an end.
Billie could see the sun setting just beyond the mountains from the window over her sink; her hands wet with soap as she rinsed and put away dishes. She was the only person that had worked that day, and thankfully, her entire shift had been slow. This was odd, considering it was a Friday night, but she reasoned that most people wanted alcohol on the weekends, rather than coffee and hot teas. Nevertheless, Billie passed the time gracefully. Having already taken inventory, bussed all the tables, and cleaned everything to a shine, she prepared herself a cold raspberry tea and sat up on the counter.
One earbud in, of course, she counted her tips, calculating in her head whether or not she'd made enough to make rent this month. Tandy was still out sick, and Billie was managing the shop just fine on her own. But without Tandy there every day, their earnings in tips were most certainly cut in half.
As if she hadn't had enough stress for one day.
Billie was known for being too busy to think; at least, since she started college, that is. Before college, she was a free spirit, taking risks, afraid of nothing, ditching responsibilities. Now, she and Tandy were living together, hundreds of miles away from their parents, and fending for themselves. Billie found it challenging, but she thrived on challenges. Still, she was worried about falling into a life of stress, and with Tandy still out for this long, it was starting to weigh on her.
The bell over the shop's main entrance rang, and instantly Billie sprang up off of the countertop.
"Hey, sorry, we're closed," she yelled out as she made her way to the front. But she found that her words meant nothing once making eyes with the customer. "Of course," she crossed her arms.
James smiled at her laid back front.
"It's okay, I don't drink coffee."
"We don't only serve coffee," she grinned, turning and walking away from him. "What are you doing here?"
He followed her over to the counter, hands in his pockets.
"I wanted to see how it went with Flaherty."
Billie reached into her smock and grabbed her iPod, shutting off her music and tucking away the earbuds. She then began to tie up her hair into that loose ponytail, her back still turned to James.
"So you stalked me to work, instead of calling me?" She challenged, and James chuckled.
