IF WE WERE MEANT TO BE // Billie Eilish

Chapter Thirty Eight - loverboy

Francis' POV:

We've flown back to LA for the week so Billie can continue working on her next album. I thought I'd join her to distract myself from Luke's book release on the weekend.

Walking into the office we instantly see Jordan sat on the sofa eating Takis. I never met him, I only saw him with Billie when he used to be with her.

I notice her take my hand. She looks uncomfortable.

"Yo, Bil. It's been too long, my girl." He smirks. "Damn, who's this?" His eyes look my up and down, the corner of his lip curling slightly more.

"Fuck off, lover boy." She hisses.

Elliott walks in.

"Great. Now it's a party." She rolls her eyes sarcastically.

"Danny wants you." Elliott says sweetly, ignoring her bitterness.

Bil grunts, barely acknowledging her, and storms past, shoving her shoulder.

"I'm getting a coffee, you want one?" Ell asks to me, once again shaking her off. I smile and shake my head, taking a seat on an armchair.

Jordan slides to the end of the sofa closest to me. "You part of Billie's team, then? I gotta find out who to get through to steal a pretty thing like you away."

"Don't even try." Elliott immediately snaps before I can respond.

He leans back casually. "You got yourself a whole calvary."

She looks at me protectively to check if I'm ok. I smile reassuringly and she leaves. Not sure what to do with myself without Bil, I go on my phone.

"So you're Billie's piece." He grins, looking over to Elliott in the other room. "Didn't know she shared."

"She doesn't." I answer, not looking up from my screen.

"I'm Jordan." He persists.

"Francis."

"Fuck, I didn't know you were Francis." He laughs. "I thought you would've been long gone by now. Bil's never been much of a keeper apart from me."

"You think you're a keeper?" I scoff.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Bite me." I scowl, before storming off to find Billie.

It takes several minutes of entering various rooms until I find her. She's sat at a piano, the only light coming from the crack at the bottom of the door.

I take a seat on the stool next to her and she begins to play that beautiful version of 'The Hill' she's known so well for. As the piece begins to climax, she starts banging against the keys with the fists in an explosion of emotion. I grab one of her fists and her other hand immediately holds mine down onto hers. Still in complete silence, she guides my fingers to her wrist, slowly so that I can feel the rise and fall of the indentations of her skin.

"When I see him, I feel like I'm back there. The second he saw me, he looked at them and smiled - like he knew he'd left his mark on me and I could never escape him because he was ingrained on my skin forever. I fucking hate it." She whispers.

I lift her arm and kiss the scars, then her palm, before resting it on my face to cup my cheek. She brushes her thumb back and forth, her fingers slightly shaking.

"I should've told you-"

I press my lips on hers to silence her, to tell her that I expect nothing and will always give everything. Her other hand reaches for my face, pulling me in and loving me in a way she clearly felt unworthy of after Jordan.