Hiii I’m just here to say that I really miss you’re writing and the book was soooo good literally so well written and catching I was looking up for Tuesdays and Thursdays all the time
I hope you’ll write again soon but no rush, wait two years if you need girl I just hope I’ll see you and you writing again and maybe a sequel 🤭
I hope you’re doing good 🩷
This made me smile so much. 💓 ugh I really love you guys.
I do have an idea for a sequel in mind. I’ve been conceptualizing it and taking my time so it’s really good. I haven’t started making any official drafts yet, but maybe soon I will. Just been really busy lately. I’m so happy you loved the first book so much, I hope it reaches many more of you!! 🥹
A/N- The end has come… 🌹 Thank you to all who stuck around and read my book all the way through from chapter 1! You’ve been so sweet. Thank you for all the kind words and motivation in the comments and in my DMs. I love you so much! I hope you guys loved this book as much I loved writing it for you. Till the next one! 🥹
Billie’s POV
“Nothing you don’t want me to remember…” She looks back out at the ocean.
I close my eyes, wincing at the thought of her knowing. The thought that this is the way I revealed my true feelings for her.
The thought that out of all the extravagant and thoughtful ways I could’ve shown her my true feelings, I chose to do it after puking everywhere, drunk as fuck, and butchering every other word.
I struggle to find the right words to say. “Rem… I’m sorry, I drank too much, and I don’t know why I— You must think I’m so—“ I grunt, visibly flustered.
“Billie, it’s okay, I’m not mad.” She says, setting the coffee mug down.
I sink into the soft, cushiony sofa, covering myself up more with the blanket. I know she’s tired of my antics. I know she’s tired of me hiding stuff from her. This is just another surprise from me to her. I hate myself.
She looks into my eyes intently, “I mean it.” A small smile curls the corners of her lips slightly. “It never happened.”
I rub my face, too frustrated to keep spewing bullshit. I need to drop the act and be real with her. I can’t keep hiding.
“No, Rem…” I sigh, “I can’t act like it didn’t happen, because it happened. I’m sorry it came out the way it did. That’s… not at all how I wanted you to find out…”
“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” She tilts her head, trying to understand. She looks betrayed, like it’s some exclusive secret. The newest hot gossip around town.
“Well, Rem, because I didn’t want to ruin our relationship. I wanted things to stay the same, I didn’t want you to be weirded out… I didn’t want you to see me differently.”
She stops me from ranting further, “Billie, how could you think I’d see you differently?”
“I didn’t want to get hurt.” My eyes begin to water and I can feel a burn in the back of my throat. I swallow to keep my tears at bay.
“Billie, you know I love you, no matter what.” She furrows her brows, noticing my glossy eyes.
“I know, Rem. But, not in the way want you to love me…”
“How would you have known that?” She says, not even entertaining the fact that I just basically admitted to loving her.
“I figured.” I shrug. “I wish I could’ve told you sooner, and not right after puking everywhere.” My face twists in disappointment. I take my hair out if it’s bun and brush it away from my face, messing with a strand, curling it around my finger.
“How long?” She doesn’t take her eyes off me, making me more nervous than I should be. I hate feeling like this.
“A long time…” Is all I can say.
“Hey,” she picks up my face with her thumb and index finger. “Stop being like that. It’s okay, it’s just me.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.” I roll my eyes, avoiding eye contact. “I just wish I went about it differently.” I’ve thought about that moment for years, and I minimized it to one stupid drunken kiss. I barely even remember what I said before it.
Her sincere eyes burn holes into the side of my face. “Why don’t you re-do it? Try again. Like it never happened!”
“I don’t want things to be… awkward between us.”
“They don’t need to be!” Her expression is velvety soft, her lips forming a slight smile again. “Seriously, pretend it’s the perfect timing and you’re ready to tell me. I can close my eyes if you want me to…” She shuts her eyes.
I breathe out a small laugh, “No, it’s okay you can open them.” I grip onto my blanket, taking a deep breath.
Remy sits patiently, waiting for me to open up, but a strong feeling in my heart tells me this isn’t right.
“Wait.”
“What’s wrong?” She tilts her head.
“Not here. It smells like coconut juice and vodka.” I shiver at the thought of more alcohol entering my body anytime soon. Ugh.
“Oookay… Where?”
“Come with me.” I jump up from my seat, the perfect idea surging through my brain, as I shove a few large blankets under my arm.
She follows me out the front door, into the bright, overcast beach front. We make our way down to the sand, where I start my search for the perfect seashore spot.
I finally set down the blankets, laying them out perfectly over the white sand, burying each corner so the wind doesn’t blow them away. I signal her to take a seat, where she watches me contemplate for a few seconds.
The cool morning air blows, and the perfect breeze gifts us just the right amount of ocean spray. Remy’s wavy hair floats around perfectly, framing her face in my favorite way. The sound of the strong ocean waves fill in for my lack of words, as I try to muster up the most flawless way to tell her how lost I get in the radiance of her eyes.
She looks out at the shoreline, following it as it foams and gets closer to us, then retreats back to the deep blue.
“Remy… There’s something I need to tell you.” I start my re-do.
“Tell me.” She gives me her undivided attention. Her eyes are pure and gentle, and before I freeze up, I take her warm hands in mine. She gently squeezes them, letting me know she’s here, and she’s not going anywhere.
I swallow hard, nervous but determined to give her back the moment I ruined last night.
“For years….” I clear my throat, “I wondered why I couldn’t just enjoy my time with you, without the constant fear of when it was going to be over. I’ve always hated endings, so at sleepovers, when we were younger, I’d always be the last to stay up, and get mad at you when you wanted to go to sleep early.”
She lets out a small laugh, knowing exactly what I’m talking about.
“And I think I did that, because I wanted to spend every second possible with you, before you had to go home. Even if I’d see you later that week again, anyway. I just didn’t want my time with you to… end.”
A strong breeze blows right through our bodies, giving us both chills.
“When we got older, I started to understand that feeling more. And I realized, that I only felt that way with you. No one else I’ve ever been with had a hold on me the way you do. There was never that urge to take advantage of every moment. It was always you. So, maybe I’m not afraid of endings. I think I’m just afraid of our ending.”
I pause for a moment because my eyes start to tear up, and she rubs the top of my hands with her thumbs. I look down at our hands, and continue.
“Remy, none of our fights were your fault. I acted like that because I’ve had such crazy feelings for you for the longest time, and it wasn’t fair to hold you to a standard you didn’t even know about.”
“Billie, it’s not your—“ she starts, but I stop her before she can even apologize. It isn’t her fault. She had no clue.
“No, Remy. Really, I expected you to know how I feel, without having the balls to communicate with you. It was wrong, and there’s no excuse, and I’m sorry.”
She nods, understanding now, and putting all the pieces together in her mind.
“The truth is, you’re all I think about. I spend way too much time figuring out a way to include you in every aspect of my life. I freak out inside every time we fight because I’m so scared to lose you, and every stupid thing I’ve done to keep you near me, only resulted in you pushing me away. This is so fucking lame, but all I want to do is take care of you, and you just think I want to control you. I get it… I do, I understand why. Hopefully now, you understand my reason why.”
She nods, letting me know she hears me.
“I love you, Remy. I’m in love with you.” A couple tears fall down my cheek but I catch them with my shoulder before they drop.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. And I’m sorry I don’t have a thousand flowers, or a fancy reservation somewhere, and I look like shit, and I threw up everywhere last night, and then kissed you after. God, that’s so embarrassing!” I cringe at myself.
She laughs a bit, shaking her head, then looks out at the waves again.
“I hope we can still be friends. But I understand if it’s too much.” I add.
After spilling my heart out, I sit quietly, bracing for impact again. This time, instead of analyzing her facial expressions or overthinking, I just let her speak. I’ve been rambling for too long.
“Billie, relax, I’m not weirded out… At all, I promise.”
“You promise?” I lift a brow, unsure how things would ever be the same again.
“Yeah, I pinky promise.” She nods.
“And you swear things can go back to the way they were?” I fidget with the edge of the white, crochet blanket.
“Is that what you want?” She asks, her glimmering eyes looking into my soul.
I nod, “Well, yeah… I don’t want things to be different now.”
“Well…. I don’t know…” She says, without breaking eye contact.
“Oh.” I nod, “I understand. I’m sorry.”
I look away, my heart dropping intensely, aching as it hits every corner of my body on its way down. I feel like I’ve lost the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Before going through all stages of grief, she stops me in my tracks, the way she always does, right before I jump off the edge.
“If things stayed the same… Then I couldn’t do this…”
I watch carefully as she crawls over to me, until we’re face to face. Without thought, she collides her lips onto mine. I could feel a Remy signature smile through our kiss, sending an electric shock through my entire body, giving me chills. The goosebumps on my arms remind me I have control of them, so I use them to hold her close.
She pulls away for a few short seconds, only to see the look in my eyes, then fills the space between us again, once she realizes that this is all I’ve wanted for years.
Losing our balance, she leans down onto the blanket below us. I plant my hand firmly underneath her, so she doesn’t hit the ground hard, and she pulls me on top of her. She runs her fingers through my matted hair and tugs softly at the roots.
For the first time ever, I feel like she needs me. Like she wants me. There is nothing I’ve wanted or needed more than her wanting and needing me.
She pulls away, seemingly content with herself.
I’m in complete and utter awe. I feel like I’m being punk’d.
“K. Where are the hidden cameras?” I look around jokingly, avoiding reality.
Remy laughs, “Stop it.”
“You kissed me!” I laugh, confused but the happier than ever.
“Well, yeah, it was my turn! You’ve already kissed me like two or three times.” She laughs, all-knowingly.
A shy, but real smile takes over my face. It’s hard for me to speak, but I do my best to mutter words good enough for her not to change her mind.
“I had no idea you—“
“…So, you love me, huh?” Remy interrupts, a smirk on her face and her cheeks glowing red.
I breathe out a laugh, looking down at my lap, “I’ve loved you for a while, Remy. I don’t know how you couldn’t tell.”
“Well, you’re very good at hiding stuff from me.” She lifts her brow, crossing her arms.
“Well, so are you!” I smack her arm.
“I know. That’s my fault for not telling you.” She uncrosses her arms.
As I sit before her, all I want to do is envelop her, devour her, and take in the moment all at once. I don’t know what to do with myself.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t more…”
She cuts me off, “More what? More perfect? This is so us, Bills.” She laughs a bit, looking around. “I love it. And I love you.”
I smile so big, my cheeks hurt. Nothing will ever beat this.
Out of nowhere, the white foamy shoreline reaches where we are, and without noticing, our bottoms are drenched in salt water.
We screech and squeal, gasping from the icy sensation.
We look at each other and Remy locks her eyes on mine, making that face she always does when she gets one of her wild ideas.
Before I know it, she’s pulling my arm and running us into the ocean. All I hear is her giggles as we sprint into the cold water together, jumping every time a wave splashes up at us.
I let go of everything in my mind.
Every worry, every fear, every tension goes away with one single dive. As our bodies cut under the biggest wave, we hold our breath, and before we swim up to the surface, I thank my lucky stars for this day, and every day that has allowed me to make it to this day.
A/N- I’m not crying, you are… 🥲
Let me know if you’re interested in seeing my girls Billie and Remy in a sequel… 👂🏻
A/N- are y’all freaking out yet? Can I just say I love all of you guys. You’ve been so sweet and supportive from the beginning, and I love reading all your thoughts and messages. Can’t believe this book is soon coming to an end…💔🥴🥹 Hope you enjoy the last couple chapters!
Billie’s POV
I cut her off, in attempt to refresh her memory. “What do you remember?”
“Um—“ She diverts her eyes from my pitiful attempt to find out if she realizes. “I know that… That you were there…”
“Oh.” I blink. “You do?” I look away.
She nods and I can feel her eyes on me again, so I meet her gaze.
“Is… that all?” I stutter. My eyes are closing on me, and I’m trying my hardest to keep them open. I’d do anything in the world to be sober right now, but sadly, this is all I have to work with.
“If that’s all you want me to remember… yeah.” She says, her voice barely audible.
Fuck.
My tongue feels numb and the roof of my mouth feels like it disappeared. She knows I was there and she knows that I kissed her. She knows I took advantage of her lifeless body, and she knows how embarrassed and pitiful I am.
I pretend I don’t hear her, and focus on my breathing. All I can do is taunt myself in my head.
“I never thanked you.” She adds. She sounds so sweet, so genuine.
“For what?” I ask, curious as to what exactly she remembers. I hope to the gods that she doesn’t know I kissed her.
I get a flashback to when she laid in that hospital bed. Her face was so pale, and her eyes were shut in such a way that it looked as though she’d been crying. A slight wrinkle between her brows held its place, and her left cheek was slightly scratched.
“You took care of me, you made sure I was okay. Even though you were mad at me.” She rubs my arm, bringing me back to reality.
“Oh. It’s nothing.” I shrug, immediately feeling like an asshole. This is what I do best. Deflection.
“It’s not… Nothing…” She says, and I suddenly want to die. I know she knows. I know she knows. I’m such an idiot.
“I just wanted to make sure you were gonna be okay. And… You needed clean clothes, you know?” I brush it off, acting casual. As casual as I can for a girl 5 drinks and 2 shots in.
“Yeah.” She says, her word lingering in the air.
I look at her as she sits in thought. Now I feel stupid for bringing it up. On second thought, she’s the one who brought it up…
Her eyes read of disappointment, confusion… Like she wants to say more, like she wants to get us out of this weird place. Now I’m embarrassed. I want to scream but I’m not sure I can. I feel like a soul floating outside of my body, like a sleep paralysis dream, watching myself fuck up, over, and over again.
I wish I was normal. I wish I could just go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, as if nothing happened.
I wish I didn’t let my tongue get ahead of my brain.
I wish I could just be brave in front of her, the way I usually am. The way I usually pretend to be. But, I am powerless. I’m nothing compared to her glowing demeanor.
I hate myself.
My eyes begin to tear up and my chest begins to heave involuntarily. I try my best to act normal, but let’s face it, nothing about my current state is normal.
“Hey…” She leans closer, “Billie, hey… What’s wrong?” She brings her fingers to my face, dabbing the tears away. Her voice is soft, soothing as always.
“I’m fine.”
“Fuck. Is it something I said?” She furrows her brows, her eyes sincere and kind.
I don’t want her to think I’m upset at her.
“No, no.” I shake my head, unable to put my thoughts into words. Everything is blurry, and I’m positive this is all just a dream.
I think of every moment that has brought me here, and wish I was under any other of those circumstances. Any other time would’ve been better than tonight.
And now, there is no turning back.
It’s now or never.
None of this is actually happening anyway.
I put a hand on her face, really gently, and reluctant as ever. I watch her eyes, pausing for a second, searching for any disapproval before I do anything.
I look at her lips, and take in how perfect they are, just as I had many times before. I part mine, wanting to say something.
Anything.
But I lean forward, instead, catching a glimpse of her eyes, just before looking back down at her plump lips.
Before I know it, my lips are pressed softly against hers.
Before I know it, our embrace glues us together, and warmth blossoms in my chest. I can feel my hands trembling, and my face tingling, as our lips melt together for the first time.
My heart is racing, but I can barely feel the rest of my body. All I can feel is how pillowy soft her lips and skin are against mine.
Suddenly, all of the feeling is brought back to my body, and if I wasn’t sober enough before, I might be now.
Sorta.
She takes my hand off her face, softly, but quickly, ending the new awakening in my body. Her quiet breaths catch my attention, but not more than the look on her face when she backs away from my kiss.
Oh god.
“Fuck. Remy, I’m sorry…”
She says nothing.
“I’m so, s-sorry— I didn’t mean to— I thought—“
I stutter and slur my words, unable to babble up an explanation or excuse, as if anything could cover up the embarrassment on my face. I swallow down the feeling in my heart, making me so… So dumb.
I look away from her shock, “I don’t know why I fucking did that…” I whisper.
My eyes begin to close on their own, dozing me off into nothingness, very, very slowly.
She says something, her voice low and mellow, but it’s hard for me to make it out.
“I’m s-sorry R-Remy…” I try my best to get the words out in more than just a murmur.
“Close your eyes…” is the last thing I manage to hear. At least, I think it’s what she said.
***********
The next morning, I’m awakened by the deepest pounding in my head. The throbbing drives me insane as I look around the room and realize I’m not even home.
I’m at my beach house.
The small recollections of last night’s party come flooding back, piece by piece, and I quickly remember what happened last night.
Well, most of it.
I’m alone, in my bed, wearing comfy clothes I barely remember putting on.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The balcony doors are open, swaying with the breeze as it blows into the room. I see that my mess is gone. It was all cleaned up.
I look to my right and notice a glass of water and some pills were left on my nightstand.
I take the Ibuprofen and chug down the whole cup of water. My tongue is dry and my throat is parched. I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and praying away this headache.
I drag myself to the bathroom and aggressively brush my teeth. My mind wanders off to the memory of last night’s final events.
I can’t believe I kissed Remy. She must’ve left this morning, or maybe last night after I crashed. She must be so confused. She must feel so awkward and weirded out. I shouldn’t have drank so much last night.
I continue to beat myself up until the smell of coffee sneaks into my room, through the air vents.
Finneas must’ve crashed here last night.
I spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, and gargle with some mouthwash before rinsing off. I sigh and put my hair up messily.
I walk out of the room, turning the hallway and slumping down the stairs. My eyes are drawn to the huge, round loveseat in the living room, which is occupied by my biggest weakness.
Remy did stay the night.
I stand at the base of the stairs, my fingers fidgeting and cracking themselves. I watch as she stares out the window, a cup of fresh coffee in her hands, looking out at the ocean below.
I slowly approach her, wincing at the thought of her actually remembering what happened last night.
“Morning…” I say, taking a seat next to her, pulling a blanket over my lap. She looks up from her coffee and gives me a soft smile.
“Crazy party…” I say, trying to assimilate normalcy. I notice most of last night’s remains have been cleaned up.
She looks back out at the ocean. I can tell she’s tired of my pretending.
The longer I beat around the bush, the longer I get to suffer the consequences. And the consequences are extremely awkward.
I sigh, wishing I could switch bodies with anyone else in the world.
“Rem?” I break the awkward silence.
“Yeah?” She glances over at me, kindly.
“Do you… Remember anything about last night?” I brace for impact, but her voice lands so softly it doesn’t hurt.
“Nothing you don’t want me to remember…” She looks back out at the ocean.
I close my eyes, wincing at the thought of her knowing. The thought that this is the way I revealed my true feelings for her.
The thought that out of all the extravagant and thoughtful ways I could’ve shown her my true feelings, I chose to do it after puking everywhere, drunk as fuck, and butchering every other word.
Would you ever make a wattpad account and post your story on there?
Sooo I used to LOVE wattpad lol. I actually had a really popular wattpad account YEARS AGO and posted a really successful story about another celebrity back in high school (not gonna expose myself aksjshjehdhsn) but as the years went on… wattpad kinda fell off in my opinion… with the adds, and the subscriptions, I sorta gravitated more towards tumblr. BUT!!! Idk is wattpad where it’s at nowadays?? Should I reconsider? 🩷
A/N- I can’t believe we’re so close to the end of this book! 😭 I’m jumping screaming and rolling on the floor all at once for y’all to read this chapter 🥴 enjoy!
Billie’s POV
A gasp escapes Remy’s mouth, backing away from me.
Everything in my stomach displayed all over the balcony, on my clothes, my shoes, on the railing, on the side of the beach house, probably even in the ocean.
“Oh, God. I’m so—“ More vomit spews out, barely missing her.
“Ooh, okay—“ She rushes behind me, grabbing all of my hair and holding it back for me. “Let it out…” She becomes my babysitter once again. The way she always does when I drink way too much.
“I think I—“
More vomit.
She pats my back with one hand, gripping my hair into a ponytail with the other. “It’s my fault, I should’ve cut you off after three drinks.” She murmurs.
I stand up straight, after emptying out my entire body, trying to act like I didn’t just ruin the moment.
“Come on, let’s get you into something comfy.” She looks at me with outmost concern, her voice slightly slurring, although it could be my hindered processing.
“N-Noo!” I slide over and back up into the bedroom.
“But, Billie I think you should—“
“NO, I don’t want to ruin the night, we were having so much fun!” I start hopping up and down, mimicking our dancing.
She laughs slightly, shaking her head, “Billie, really, you’re gonna black out any minute now. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She steps over my vomit on the floor, guiding me into the master bathroom.
“I ruined everything about tonight.” I begin to think out loud, letting my inner voice come out in a way it never has. I can’t stop anything I do before it happens, and I fear I may not remember anything about it tomorrow.
“No, you didn’t.” Remy soothes me as she kneels on the floor, carefully untying my shoes and taking them off, allowing me to lean on her as I step out of them.
“You hate me.” I pout, paranoid about sounding annoying. I feel like the biggest loser.
“Noo, I love you!” She says, without giving it a second thought. For some reason, her words mean a lot more to me than they should.
I sit back on autopilot, taking deep breaths in between each pout, hoping I don’t throw up again. The room is wavy, and the walls are stretching, as I try to focus my eyes on one thing only, to keep me from falling on the floor.
“Let’s get you out of these nasty clothes.” She winces, raising my arms so she can pull my top over my head, careful not to get any puke on my face. She throws the shirt into the sink, moving onto my pants. “Step out, careful, don’t fall!” She holds me up, making sure I don’t lose my balance.
“I’m sorry.” I whine, feeling like I messed everything up. I should’ve just listened to Finneas. I should have never drank this much, I should have never been so in my head, and I shouldn’t have ruined tonight.
I ruined tonight.
The words parade through my mind over and over, torturing me. I don’t even notice how but suddenly, I’m in the shower, naked and cold, shivering under the stream.
“I’m really s-sorry, I j-just wanted to— I just wanted to be as fun as y-you, and then I—“ I mumble, holding my finger up in the air, jumping from sentence to sentence before I can even finish the first.
“Billie, it’s okay! You just had a little too much fun.” She hands me a loofah with body wash on it, sudsing it up first. “Here, wash up.” She ignores my drunk rambling.
I sigh, doing as told, as she begins to shampoo my head for me. She gently turns me around, so she can wash the length of my hair. I stare at the marble tile on the wall, trying my best to scrub my numb body clean.
I whip my body around, a little too fast, a little too eager.“We can still go downstairs, I can put on some new clothes, and we can keep dancing—“ I lose my balance, slipping on the soapy tile, falling on my right hip.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Bills.” Remy stifles a laugh, helping me up again. “I think it’s bed time.”
“Nooo!” I whine, not feeling an ounce of pain. Tomorrow might be different.
“Yesss, now rinse off, I’m gonna get everything cleaned up, okay?” She shuts the glass shower door. “Try to stand still, okay?”
I sigh, standing under the water. I’m not sure if it’s too hot or too cold, as I don’t have much feeling on my skin.
I sigh, watching as she rummages through my bathroom, rinsing off my shirt and cleaning off my shoes in the sink. She leaves the bathroom and comes back in with a change of clothes in her hand. She moves so gracefully, despite having almost as many drinks as I had. Everything she does is calculated and careful. I wish I could be the same.
“Ready?” Her voice is sweet and patient as she opens the shower door to shut the water off. She opens her arms with a towel in her hands, wrapping it around my wet body. She helps me step out of the shower, as the room spins. Suddenly, I feel dizzier than ever.
“Uh oh…” I murmur. Quickly, she pulls a cushiony stool out from under the vanity, catching my fall.
“You okay?” She bends down, meeting me at eye level, examining my complexion. “You don’t look so good.” She tilts her head.
“I’m fine, I just—“
She cuts me off, grabbing a small facial rag, and soaking it in cold water for me. “It’s okay, let’s get you to bed.”
She softly dabs my face with the cold rag, then placing it behind my neck to cool me down. I’m enamored by her presence so close to my face. Immediately I’m silenced due to embarrassment. My mouth must reek of vomit and alcohol.
I look over at the toothpaste next to the sink and as if by telepathic communication, she reaches over for it.
“Do you have a toothbrush here?” She asks. I look down at the cabinet under the sink and she immediately opens it, looking for a new toothbrush.
“Fuck if I know.” I shrug, speaking out loud before even thinking of which words to use.
She searches through everything, successfully retrieving a new toothbrush for me. She rinses it off and puts toothpaste on it for me.
“Thank you.” I mumble with the toothbrush already in my mouth.
She starts to do my skin care routine, from beginning to end, without skipping a beat. She’s seen me do it countless times, and today was her time to shine. She pauses in the middle to let me spit minty foam down the drain, then resumes.
“I’m really sorry I ruined everything, Rem.” I stutter.
“You didn’t ruin anything at all-“
I cover her mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry you have to clean me up and take care of me.”
She takes my hand off her mouth and holds onto it, letting a slight laugh escape her lips. “This is what I’m here for, I’m supposed to take care of you.”
I begin to smile, my heart confused and afraid that it’s hearing what it wants to hear.
“You’re my best friend.” She finishes her thought.
There it is.
A wave of anger and sadness fills my heart and my stomach, upsetting me into complete silence. I close my eyes so the floor can stop spinning, so I can focus on how much I want to end it all.
Okay maybe that’s a bit dramatic. But I truly can’t believe I was this close to confessing my feelings for her, and now I’m drenched, wrapped in a towel, still her best friend.
Now, she stands behind me, towel drying my hair, running some leave-in conditioner through it gently. I stare at her reflection in the mirror, wishing she could see right through me.
She finishes brushing my hair and helps me into a pair of sweatpants. I put on a fresh shirt, and she guides me over to the bed. I feel like a giant baby as I mumble nothing important while I climb into bed.
“You’re gonna hate me tomorrow.” I groan.
“Why would you say that?” Her voice is slightly groggy.
“Because I ruined the fun. And threw up all over the place.” I sigh.
“Trust me, I’m so drunk, I won’t even remember any of this.” She laughs. Oddly enough this gives me courage I didn’t have before.
She opens up the bed for me, covering me in 3 different layers as I lay my wobbly head down on the soft, plushy pillow. She sits at my side, tucking me in after putting a small trashcan next to me, just in case.
“Drink some water, okay?” She bypasses my mopey pouts and gets me to take a few sips.
“This is just like when I was at the hospital.” She smiles down at me.
Before I can even say anything, she brushes the hair behind my ears, slowly, reminding me of when she was at the hospital, after her car accident.
I remember the way I brushed back some hair that messily covered her eyes. The way I spread some of my Aquafor on her dry lips, attempting to bring them back to life. I remember the way I leaned down and kissed her, without her knowledge.
I begin to panic internally. She knows.
“Are you feeling alright?” Her forehead crinkles in worry.
I stare blankly, frozen in place.
“I’ll go get Finneas, I’ll be right back.” She goes to get up, but I grab a hold of her wrist, stopping her from standing.
“No! No— Stay. Please.” I pull her back down. “I’m okay. Just don’t leave me… Please?” Urgency in my voice.
“Okay, okay. I won’t.” She agrees, “Let me just change, okay?”
I nod, letting go of her wrist. I watch as she grabs her overnight bag and pulls out a change of clothes. She locks the bedroom door and changes quickly. My eyes begin to close on me as I doze off into a drunken mess. I fight my sleep off, not wanting the night to end this way.
Disrupting my thoughts, Remy turns off all the lights and jumps into my bed. “Woah.” She says, slurring a bit, situating herself right beside me.
I try to ignore the movement of the bed, trying not think about the fact that it feels like we’re on a giant blow up mattress in the middle of the ocean.
We sit in the dark, in silence, as I fight to stay awake. Parts of the night seem like illusions now, and nothing feels real at all.
“Remy?” I disturb the quiet.
“You need the trashcan?” She turns on her side quickly, looking up over at me.
“No, no…” I shake my head, knowing I probably sound like a blabbering idiot. “I was wondering… Do you remember everything from the hospital?”
She looks at me for a moment, thinking about her answer thoroughly.
“Well, not everything—“
I cut her off, in attempt to refresh her memory. “What do you remember?”
“Um—“ She diverts her eyes from my pitiful attempt to find out if she realizes. “I know that… That you were there…”
A/N- This chapter is a little longer but I think it’s perfect. 🤪 Comment your thoughts I wanna know what everyone is thinking. (*Screams internally*)
Billie’s POV
Loud music fills the house, along with my favorite people. My beach house, usually sitting empty, is now decorated and bursting at the seams. Everyone looks incredible in their hottest outfits, dancing and having the time of their lives.
Everyone, but me.
I’m hanging out by the snacks, watching everyone have the fun I should be having. Remy is unwavering beauty. She looks incredible in her skin tight outfit, and her wild hair tossing around as she dances. She keeps looking over at me, as if to ask me to join her, but I keep flashing her a smile and diverting my attention to something not nearly as interesting as her.
I just feel stuck. Rigid. Like I can’t be myself.
My palm presses against my knuckles until I feel the familiar pop. No one is standing still and it makes the room feel as if it’s alive. Any other night this may have felt like a gift, but tonight I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin to escape from it. I can’t breathe, I can barely move and as I feel the anxiety start to overwhelm me, that's when I feel her hand on my shoulder.
When I turn to face her, I swear she might as well have been bathed in her own golden light.
“What are you doing over here? Did someone glue your butt to the wall?” She asks, pulling me.
“I’m not feeling it, honestly.” I shrug
“Why not?”
“I’m just… I’m nervous.” I force myself to shout over the music, but all I want to do is disappear into the crowd.
“Booo!” She shouts, grabbing my other hand now “Let’s get you a drink then, loosen you up!” She cheers, fully dragging me now to the kitchen where there’s an assortment of alcohol and mixers set out. It was BYOB, of course, and as I stand there observing the selection I’m glad Remy is here to guide me.
“This is my favorite.” She smiles over her shoulder at me, pouring pineapple juice over ice and malibu rum. She cheerfully adds a maraschino cherry on top. The only thing I actually contributed to this drink were the cherries, which I keep around for the occasional almond milk ice cream sundae.
I take a sip with her eyes trained on me, waiting for my reaction.
“Okay!” I smile, chugging it and slamming the cup down.
She refills my cup with the same concoction.
She grabs a lone cherry from the jar and pops it in her mouth before dragging me back to the dance floor, drink in hand. When she finds a good place on the outskirts of the crowd, she turns back to me and her body begins swaying to the music. I try to follow her lead, figuring if I can’t disappear, I might as well blend in.
“Look! Look what I can do!” She yells, taking a step back from me to give herself space before doing a front roll on the floor. As she rolls onto her back, she accidentally kicks me between my legs, causing me to bend forward.
“Fuck, dude.” I’m serenaded by her intoxicated laugh, and I can’t help but follow “You’re such an idiot. You just kicked me in my balls.”
She rolls around on the ground in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and I’m laughing so hard I end up down there with her. As I drop down, my drink splashes and lands on her chest. I try not to give this too much thought.
“Oh, fuck!” I laugh, raising the glass to my lips once more, taking a large sip.
“Chug! Chug! Chug!” She cheers, pumping her fists in the air and smiling. Who am I to deny her? I tilt my head back, letting the liquid pour down my throat. The ice is stuck to the bottom of the glass, but eventually it falls and smacks me in the nose. I jerk forward once more, meeting her eyes in laughter. She leans into my ear, our faces almost touching.
“I’ll go get us some more. Stay here. Dance.” She adds the last part seriously, but i’m too distracted by the fact that her breath smells like cherries.
I stay put as I’m told and I’m grateful that while she’s gone no one approaches me, because despite this being my party I don’t feel in the mood for socializing tonight.
Just as I'm considering going back to the kitchen to find her, she returns, handing me another glass of the yellow liquid. I take a smaller sip this time, hoping the alcohol will set in sooner than later. She returns easily to her upbeat dancing, without spilling the drink in her hand even once. I realize now that hers is dark, and I break her out of her trance to ask what it is.
“Just coke and whiskey!“ Shouts over the loud music.
I grab the glass from her hand and take a sip, considering it for a moment. I hand her my glass instead, taking another sip
“No, hey! That’s mine.” She complains, reaching for it. “You shouldn’t mix dark and light liquids dummy.”
“Noo, I want this one!” I pout, playfully turning away from her. She rolls her eyes like she cares, but we both know she’ll indulge me in the end. When we return to the kitchen we find the bottle of coke empty.
“Fuck it, let’s just do shots.” I say, suddenly feeling a lot more outgoing. I am at a party celebrating my tour, where I played my music, and I’m in my beach house with people who love and support me. What better time to celebrate? Remy seems surprised that I suggest this, but once again she indulges me.
I try to let the alcohol pass down my throat as quickly as possible, ready to indulge in this upbeat and excited energy. I can feel the music getting to me now, no longer overwhelming my senses but heightening them. Suddenly we’re back on the dance floor, her hair flipping to the beat.
The sweat has begun dripping from her forehead and she’s breathless as we bounce around together, in some half dance for hours.
I can’t imagine anything we’re doing in this state is very impressive, but then my eyes consume her, and the lights are dancing on her skin. She’s smiling and it’s all so overwhelming, I almost can’t help myself.
I wanna shift to a different plane, one where we’re removed from our physical selves so that she might be a large and welcoming expanse, and I might be enveloped by her. I imagine her in colors that are warm and vivid. She is the ocean and I want to be the rays of light that dance among her waves. She makes me understand why bibles exist, because I feel the urge to write and write and write of beauty and wonder so that someone far in the future might conceptualize a beauty like hers. And there will be nonbelievers who cast doubt, despite depictions of her, and I will not fault them, because she is something you can only witness with your soul.
“You’re so…” I huff for a breath, trying to summarize all that I'm feeling but my brain is cloudy, “…beautiful.” And it falls flat. For a moment I think I should build up a whole new language so that I can describe something as complex and awe-inspiring as her without monologuing.
“Bitch, says you!” She returns the compliment easily, playfully rolling her eyes at my and not once stopping to consider the weight behind my words. I shake my head, and when I look away, I spot Finneas from across the room.
I’m reminded of our conversation at his house the other day, how he’d told me what I already knew. That I needed to confess my feelings for her.
I excuse myself quickly, walking clumsily through the crowd toward him with utmost importance.
“Finneas!” I yell urgently when his eyes land on me. The intention is for him to hear me over the music, but the songs shift as the words leave my mouth and I just end up screaming at him.
“What?” He laughs
“I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna tell her I love her.” I have to get closer as the music returns. His eyebrows furrow and he looks toward the crowd, clearly trying to think of a way to settle me down.
“Do you really think now is the best time?” He tries to reason with me, but it gets drowned out beneath the music, just like everything else tonight.
“I’m so tired of holding this secret. I just need to know if she feels the same way.”
His face changes as he catches a wiff of my alcoholic mouth.
“Okay, but Billie you’re drunk. For, like… the second time ever in your whole life.” I ignore him because he’s right.
“I’m not ever gonna do it if I don’t do it now. I’m always way too scared of what will happen, or what she’ll say, but I’m ready now! I want to tell her, no matter what. It’s now or never!” I say insistently, trying to shake him with the grip I now have on his biceps, but only managing to shake myself.
“Why don’t we try drinking water and thinking of a game plan first? Maybe you can just tell her tomorrow. It’ll mean more if you’re sober.” The music is pounding, the bass almost shaking the floor beneath me. I can feel it hyping me up, my heart rate rising at the thought of finally confessing to her, at the prospect of her loving me back, of tonight transforming into a story we tell at our wedding. Everything is so pent up I could burst.
“It’s now or nevvveerrrr!!!” I shout, throwing my arms in the air. My hair smacks me in the face as I whip back around on my return to Remy, but I can only laugh.
I make my way across the room to her, grabbing her arm and attempting my best to be heard over the loud music. “Remy! What I said earlier—“
“Huh?” She shouts, her body undulating with the beat.
Anything I manage to get out of my mouth, she can’t make up right now, and as she tries to read my lips, I’m fooled into thinking she might kiss them. I get a sudden urge of extreme nerves and clumsily trip over someone else’s foot. Remy catches me before I fall over, and I think we both realize how intoxicated I am.
She laughs, “You okay?!” She leans and shouts, near my ear.
“Yeah, sorry!” I shout back and she manages to read my lips this time. I guess it’s easier when I’m not rambling.
She leans into my ear, “Why don’t we get you some fresh air?” She leads the way, holding my hand and guiding my aimless body up the stairs.
The contrast between the balcony and downstairs is staggering. The music goes from consuming my senses to barely registering in the background, being replaced by the wind passing. I feel myself calm as Remy clicks the door shut behind us, joining me by the railing. I’m no longer powered by the intoxicating energy of sound and people and, well… alcohol. It’s just me, and her and while I can tell the alcohol is still strong in my blood, it feels different now.
I think…
I glance over the balcony at the water, beating pointlessly against the rock that holds us. I consider for a moment that it might suck less to surrender to the cold, icy water, than be forced to confess something to her once again. On my grave they’d have to write “Here lies Billie, helpless in her bisexuality. Loved by many, but never The One.” This rips an unintentional laugh from my throat, drawing Remy’s attention.
“What?” Her voice is so quiet im almost surprised it's not drowned out by the waves and light wind.
My head wobbles like boozy jello, to meet her eyes, and even without jumping I feel like I'm 6ft under water in snow gear. Everything is in slow motion and everything is hard to see unless I focus, so of course her face is crystal clear.
“I love you.” I slur aimlessly, followed by a slow blink.
There’s less passion in it than I imagined, but it makes no difference to her. She has no idea how many times I've rehearsed this exact scenario in my head. It’s not a bold, fearless declaration of love. It’s me, falling at her doorstep, drunk and helpless, waiting for her to invite me in. It’s not what I thought, but it’s real. It’s happening.
“I love you too.” She smiles perfectly, and my focus lands there before it quickly subsides. I know she doesn’t mean it the way I want her to. The way I wish she would.
“I love you.” I repeat sternly, my head nodding forward a bit for emphasis, shaking the brain in my cranium.
“I love you”
I clumsily plant my hands on the fence, shifting my body to face her instead of the ocean in front of us, aware I’m not doing any good at getting my point across. She obviously must think of me as the drunk best friend that tells everybody she loves them.
I can see her demeanor shift as the words leave my mouth. She examines me with her eyes, waiting for some recant or laughter, or whatever has her staring at me the way she is.
My stomach churns as the silence drags on and I find myself trying to take deeper breaths through my nose. I’m silently thankful for the breeze coming in, off the ocean, as I seem to struggle to fill my lungs. She’s still watching me. Thank god I didn’t do this inside, in front of all those people, but maybe Finneas was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it at all, at least not tonight.
It’s all happening in a matter of seconds, but it feels like forever. I look to my right, acting as though the moon had suddenly caught my attention. As if it could hold a candle to her.
But, I just can’t stand to see her face as she processes my one last secret, to watch as the wind makes it look like hair is floating in the night sky.
My throat constricts and my stomach tightens, pushing its contents up and out. A grotesque burp escapes first, and it's quickly followed by liquid and bits of cherry. All over the balcony and my shoes.
It’d been a week since the talk, but it was still all I could think about. She’d given me an out, a perfect opportunity, and still I lied. Another promise between us that would go broken, because she’s right, I can never just confront anything.
Can you blame me? Can you honestly say that you would be able to look your deity in the eye and confess all your sinful thoughts and wishes? That you could tarnish every pure moment you’d ever spent in her presence, and not crumble beneath the way She looked at you?
There were times when I felt myself coping, wondering if it was even really a lie or just a withheld truth, and then I remember, that’s the exact train of thought I'd used to defend keeping her on tour. I can’t help my mouth… the things that will come out of it just to keep her nearby…
And now, of course, it feels too late. Now I’d have to admit to her that she was right, she can't believe a single thing I say. I cannot be trusted when it comes to her.
If I'm honest, I’d been avoiding her. It's been a little less than a week, but there’s something a lack of her does to my body. I feel like a zombie walking the streets, a dull ache in my muscle protruding from the skin, falling from the bone, and limbs hanging off me. I can feel it rotting me from the inside, this black and unforgiving fear. I’m worried that if I see her, she’ll notice it. That if I let her see me, she’ll see it written all over my face.
I spent some of this week making music, just to distract myself, in hopes of feeling better, but there was nothing poetic or beautiful about how selfish I'd been. Once again, I put our friendship on the line, because I’m worried if I tell her the truth, she might not want to be around me anymore. Once again I’m not allowing her autonomy.
Maybe part of the reason I’m avoiding her this week is to prove to myself I can be without her. But, like an addict, I return every time, so certain that I can handle being around her without being completely enthralled. Obsessed. Addicted.
Stepping out of the car, I’m met with the familiar view of Finneas’ place. My keys jingle obnoxiously as I sort through them. The key to my car, my place, remy’s place, and finally, the key to Finneas’ front door. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear the new and inventive ways i’ve managed to fuck up with Remy since last time we spoke.
“Big brudddeerrrr.” I call out into the empty expanse, not bothering to look for him.
“Sup.” He answers plainly, his voice coming from the kitchen. When I enter I’m greeted with the fragrant smell of onion and garlic baking in the oven, and him leaning against the counter, staring at something on his phone. I throw my arms around his torso and let my head rest on his chest.
He wraps one arm around me in return, his focus still on the screen, a screen I would be able to see if my eyes weren’t welling up with tears. I didn’t come over here with the intention of sobbing into his arms, I just wanted to update him on everything and try to gain some perspective, but it always seemed to end this way.
Finneas doesn’t notice anything is wrong until he hears the quiver in the way I speak
“I fucked up.”
When he does realize, his phone is abandoned on the counter and both his hands hold my face, shifting my attention to him.
“Oh my god. You’re pregnant.” He says, trying to make me laugh.
“Shut up.” I grumble, pushing his hands away from me and taking a step back.
“What happened?” he asks, focusing entirely on me now.
I explain myself as best I can, trying not to get overwhelmed as I recount it all. When I’m done, all Finneas can do is shrug.
“You told her you wouldn’t keep anything from her. Seems like you know what you should do.”
“God. I should be put down.” I huff.
Laughter bursts from Finneas when the words leave my mouth, and I cant help but smile a little too. “Like a dog?”
I nod, “Precisely.”
“God, thats awful. Shouldn’t we at least give you one last day? C’mon, what do you want? Leaf? Apple? Lentil burger?” He jokes.
The timer goes off, raising the hairs on my arms as Finneas takes mom’s special veggie quiche out of the oven. “You want some?”
I nod, my stomach rumbling at the realization that I haven’t eaten much all day. I hadn’t eaten much all week, even. I’d been preoccupied in my own thoughts.
I'm just so tired of feeling guilty and worrying that I might slip up. And still, there is always the question of why I slipped away to have conversations she couldn’t hear. Once again, she was right. This secret has drawn a line between us during tour. I had her and I didn’t.
Remy’s right. She’s almost always right. I had said that so often recently, it was beginning to feel like a mantra. I worry that she’s already caught on and she’s just waiting for me to confront her with my confession. I worry that she knows me so well, she doesn’t need me to say it.
But why? To torture me? To see what creative ways I might bend myself over and backward? Does she love to watch how faithful I am to nothing but her presence? Would it even matter?
I would humiliate myself in front of her time and time again, if it meant sharing another bed, watching another movie, having another conversation… After all, nothing could ever surmount the jaw clenching, heart pounding, breathless anxiety of being without her. Of just simply knowing we aren’t on speaking terms. It is wholly and irrevocably pathetic.
My yearning… all pointless.
She’s the entire ocean, and I, a lone observer. I could admire how the sunset reflects off her, and scream until my lungs burn how perfect I believe she is, but she would remain unaffected by something so small, so insignificant, so irrelevant to her great beauty. The only time I would have the pleasure of being close to her is when she reaches forth and allows it, gracing the tiniest parts of me with her refreshing touch, before withdrawing once more.
“Billie…” Finneas breaks the spell.
I look down and I’m sitting at his kitchen table, with a fork in one hand, and a tight grip on my jeans in the other.
“You keep zoning out.” He takes a bite of quiche as it steams off the ceramic baking pan in front of us.
I take my first bite and I’m taken back to our old family home, where we grew up, and suddenly we’re in the old kitchen. Finneas and I are ten and fourteen years old, and we’re trying to sneak in a few bites of mom’s quiche, before she realizes it’s done baking. We squirm as the hot food touches our tongues, avoiding the long wait before it cools. Suddenly we’re kids again, sharing whispers behind mom’s back, stealing bites right out of the pan.
“Hey. Where’d you go?” Finneas asks.
I smile, “Nowhere bad.” I shovel another bite of veggie quiche into my mouth, not minding my manners at all. I know this is a safe space. I don’t have to hide or act here.
After our day together, I head for my home, prepping myself for yet, another sleepless night of overthought. The only difference about tonight, is tomorrow will be my big end of tour party. I run my skincare routine on autopilot, convinced that as long as I don’t neglect my face, I can neglect my mental health all I want. Girl math.
The doorbell rings to my surprise. I pull out my phone to check my cameras. It’s Remy. My stomach flutters up to my throat and I vigorously rinse off my face, patting it dry with a towel.
I rush off to the door to welcome her in. Avoiding her never works. She always runs straight through my mind, and back into my proximity.
“Hey, Rem, you okay?” I shut the door behind her.
“Yeah, I’m just checking on you.” She looks at me confused, “You’ve been so bland and dry in our texts and you keep blowing me off.”
I groan, acting casual and stretching my back nonchalantly, “Oh, sorry. I’ve just been real busy with writing.” I lie, again.
Predictable, I know.
I look down at the tote bag under her arm, full of clothes. She packed an overnight bag. This would normally fill me with joy, causing me to practically bounce off the walls and ceiling, but tonight, I’m at war with myself, inner turmoil boiling over in my mind.
“Is it okay? If I stay the night?” She smiles, twirling slightly in place. “I figured we can get ready together for your end of tour party tomorrow?”
“Yeah! I’d love that.” I grab the tote bag from her, throwing it over my shoulder, and lugging it upstairs, as she follows closely behind.
Upstairs, I finish out my skin care routine, moisturizing my face with a hairband holding back my hair.
“So? …Have you missed me?” Her silky smooth voice calls out from my bed, matching her velvety smooth skin in my sheets. That’s precisely where I’ve missed her. Wrapped up in my covers, swallowed up by my pillows, tangled up in my embrace…
I swallow before answering, “It’s only been, like, a week, you dodo.”
She lets out a small, breathy laugh, “I know, dummy. But, we’ve been together every single day for the last few months. I missed you…” She crosses her arms, all the way from her throne, in the sexiest way possible.
God, stop teasing me!
I shake my head jokingly, trying not to get my thoughts get in the way, “Ugh, darling, just admit it. You’re obsessed with me.”
“You wish.” She scoffs, waiting for me to join her. I take off my sweatpants, staying in only boy-short briefs, and my giant shirt.
I climb into bed with her, getting used to the idea of sleeping with her again. The same idea I’d been trying so hard to get off my mind.
“Now, what have you really been up to?” She lays beside me, not buying my previous excuse to going MIA.
“I told you. I’ve been in the basement writing new music, so the entire fandom doesn’t rip me to shreds for not dropping this second part of the album they think I wrote.”
(LMAO 😉)
“Ah. Any luck?” She props her head up on her arm.
“Not really. Writer’s block.” I wince, “Luckily I don’t have any due dates yet.”
She sits up, “You need to relax. You’ve been working hard, you just got back from tour a week ago, Bills.” She turns me on my stomach and lifts up my shirt.
I hold my breath as her soft, honey-like hands behind to rub all over my bare back. I groan, releasing the air in my lungs, “That feels good…”
“I’ll get lotion. Take your shirt off, I don’t wanna get it oily.” She hops over me to fetch the bottle of lotion in my bathroom.
I do as I’m told and remove my shirt, laying back down on my belly, burying my head in my arms. I allow my body to relax, just as she comes back over to me.
She climbs on top of me and sits on my butt, squirting my back with lotion. I tense back up, arching my back a bit, but not from how cold the lotion is.
She laughs, as she begins kneading out the knots in my back, “Relax!”
I do my best to relax, but how could I, when I’m shirtless and she’s on top of me, rubbing all over my naked body?
My back becomes her canvas, pale but ridden with goosebumps, as she swirls her oily fingertips all around my aching muscles.
“Try to close your eyes and forget about everything.” Her breath hits my glistening back, giving me chills.
After about hour of massages, my body gives into her magic touch. I don’t even realize that at one point, I’ve dozed off, and she’s covered me up in sheets and a comforter. The lights are off, and I am next to her, still half bare, as she sleeps.
A/N- I love you guys for being so sweet and so patient with me last week! I hope y’all are ready for the next few chapters… these next few weeks are gonna be HUGE for our girls… 😤
Billie’s POV
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours, and hours turned to nightfall. Time passed by so slowly with Remy just feet away from me, locked up in her room. I sit at her door, staring at my toes, my legs stretched out towards the kitchen, and my back straight against the wooden frame.
The shadows of cars racing down the street cast a show on the linoleum flooring, through the big bay window in the living room. I could go lay on the couch, curl up with a blanket, and close my eyes. But all I can do is beg like the hungry mutt I feel like.
Before I crawled on my hands and knees to get here, I considered telling her the truth. The whole truth, this time. But it feels like all I can ever do is lie. There’s such safety in lying, really. There’s nothing safe about shedding off all these layers and letting her see me.
Before she locked herself away from my reach, she sat in silence for a while. She didn’t say anything hurtful, nothing that would sting forever. In a way, this is worse. I wish she’d claw at me, jabbing me with her words, so I could leave her alone for good. So I could stop this fixation.
“You can’t ignore me forever.” I say, quietly, my words lingering in the air.
She looked out the window, the sun still setting then. The cool evening breeze ran its fingers through her wavy hair. Before leaving me alone with my thoughts, she sighed so softly, it was barely audible. She looked in my eyes, and her lips parted so slightly, almost as if she were to speak. Maybe the gleam in my eyes stopped her before she could. Maybe the desperation on my face said it all. She stood up and walked into her room, locking the door behind her.
Ever since then, I’ve been on her floor, pleading like a dog waiting to be fed, for hours.
I’m tired of crying, and groveling like the giant toddler I am. I wipe my tears and reach up at the doorknob, turning it in hopes that it gives. I sit on my knees, picking at the lock, desperately attempting to break in, and be near her again.
“Please, Remy, let me in.” I sniffle, holding my ear up to the door while I choke the antique, brass knob. All I hear is the muffled sound coming from her mindless social media scrolling. Maybe she fell asleep, maybe she’s awake, torturing herself just as much as I am.
I stand up, my feet painfully tingling awake at my first steps in hours. I grab a magazine and pry it between the door frame and the door, hoping the deadbolt will budge, but I fail. I shove a bobby pin into the keyhole, jamming it around, hoping something will help. None of my tricks are working, and all I can do now is sulk.
Panic charges up from the tips of my toes, making my knees weak, bringing me down to the floor again. That sheer panic heats up my stomach, making my heart race, and my throat burn as I try my hardest to keep up my breathing. More tears fill my eyes, pouring down my cheeks, along with the sweat dripping off my forehead.
I lean my head back on the door, like a fallen angel waiting to be let back in her pearly gates.
You don’t understand, Rem. If you don’t open this door, I’ll die. I think to myself, as dramatic as it sounds.
I keep doing everything wrong. I keep making these choices that land me here, only to bring me a temporary joy, that is always followed by heartbreak. I keep doing this to myself.
The door abruptly swings open, and my body slams against the cold floor. I find myself at her feet once again. I look up at her, bringing myself to my knees, my hands fidgeting and folding together.
I must look so pathetic, so pitiful, that she finally caves. I don’t care. I’ll take her in whatever minuscule, meaningless way I could have her.
“You really aren’t leaving, are you?” She looks down at me.
I shake my head, “No, not again.”
“Okay.” She sits next to me, “Talk.”
I sit up and scoot closer to her, wiping away the leftover tears on my face. “Remy, this is what I was trying to avoid.”
“By lying to me?” She crosses her arms. She looks as if she’s been crying too, but out of anger, not fault.
“I just wanted to take care of you. I didn’t want you to struggle, I just wanted you to be happy. With me, traveling, seeing the world. You deserve it after-“
“Billie, I know you want to help, and you want things to be easy for me, but you know how I feel about taking money from people.”
“I know but-“
“And you kept it from me! Which is even more fucked up— And weird. And it makes me feel like you keep so much from me that I don’t even know about!” She tilts her head, staring a hole through my head with those big eyes.
Oh, baby, if only you knew. If only you knew that all I have ever wanted is to tell you my deepest, darkest, filthiest thoughts about you. But you can never know, because you’d never feel the same.
I shake my head profusely, “I’m not—“
“I can feel it. The sneaking behind my back, the phone calls— I know you’re not being honest with me. You effortlessly kept this from me the whole time we were away. You must think I’m stupid-“
I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the hurt tone in her voice, or the frustration in her eyes. I can’t take her looking at me like the biggest disappointment in her life, over and over again.
I close my eyes and breathe deep as she talks.
My impulse takes over as I grab her chin, colliding my lips into her’s, stopping them from reading me the way they always do. Her body is tense in shock at first, then warm and melty, like chocolate in the sun. Though in bliss, the panic in my heart doesn’t go away. It only worsens and pumps out of my chest, so hard that she can probably feel it against her’s. I pull away to gasp for air, hoping this panic will go away. As I open my eyes all I can hear is Remy, still just as frustrated, still just as hurt.
“Billie are you even listening to me?” She says, still a few feet away from me, just as angry as before.
Fuck. I need to stop disassociating. None of this is real. I’m imagining things.
“Billie!”
“I hear you. I hear, you trust me. I’m just processing.” I sigh, looking down at my lap.
If only she knew all that goes on in my head. God, how I wish it were real.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Remy. I got carried away, I took advantage of you.”
“Yeah! I mean, we’re living in two different realities.” She puts her head in her hand.
“I’m listening. I swear.” I put a hand on her back, reluctantly, hoping to God she doesn’t rip my arm away from her. But she doesn’t, she gives into my touch.
I gently lift her chin with my hand, for real this time. “Look, none of those things you said are true. The phone calls, and sneaking around… that wasn’t to keep this rent thing from you. You just… you have to trust me.”
She doesn’t say anything. She just waits for me to explain myself. But, I know I can’t. She takes my hand off her face, but holds onto it.
“I fucked up. I know. I’m sorry… We were having so much fun, and I wanted to take care of you. I wanted you to have a worry free escape before getting back to… To—“
“To reality?” Her brows scrunch, her eyes darting between mine. I could see her trying to understand me.
“Yeah.” I blink back a tear. “I’m sorry.”
She softens her voice, “I know I haven’t been around. And I know you’ve missed our time together. I missed it too. And Billie, I had so much fun. But this is my life, and I gotta get back to it. I can’t live your life, this is my life.”
She looks around her apartment, turning her attention back to me shortly after. She catches me watching the way her eyes wander around the room. I don’t look away I just take in her presence, the way I have been every minute of every day I spent with her on tour, in case it would be my very last time.
“This is my life, Billie. Thank you for showing me what it’s like to be in yours. But now I need you to let me be in mine. Okay? I’m not a celebrity, and I can’t expect one to cover all my expenses.” She squeezes my hand, “No matter how badly you want to help.”
I nod. I know she’s mad, but at least she’s trying to understand. I’m not just giving to charity, the way she’s making it sound. I wish she could know how badly I want to just take care of her. How badly I want to spend all my money on her. How badly I want her to sell this apartment, move into my house, and make all the empty extra rooms her own.
She already own every corner of my mind, and now I want a little bit of her in every corner of my house, on every corner of my body, and every corner of my mouth.
My thoughts are interrupted by her arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me into her embrace. Her hair fills my nose with that sweet, pear like scent that I love.
“I’m sorry I did this and kept it from you. It’ll never happen again.”
“Promise me.” She pulls away and looks into my eyes, more serious than ever.
Here they come. More lies…
“I’ll never keep anything from you again.” I say.
“Promise me.” She repeats herself, holding her pinky out.
I return the favor, “I promise. I’ll never keep anything from you again.”
She hugs me again, sitting in our embrace for a while. I am miserable, I am soaking in the web of lies I have sown all by myself.
A/N- The time has finally come… The girlies are back home. What happens now? 🥴
Billie POV
Over the span of a month, we savored the last moments on tour, and we held on tight to the last few days together. All good things have to come to an end.
I brace for impact as Remy unlocks her apartment door, nothing but lies on the other side. She insisted we drop her off as soon as possible, so she could see how the “tenant” left her place.
Little did she know I’d been paying someone to be there once in a while, and also paying them to pay her. Someone we know.
I’d been scrambling to stall Remy all day by making random stops, trying to distract her with shopping, but all she wanted to do was see her apartment.
I finally cooperated, knowing my friend was still getting her things out. We’d landed early today, and my anxiety was through the roof, knowing she had to get rid of the evidence faster than planned. She wasn’t actually sleeping at the apartment, but I knew she’d have a few belongings there. She used the apartment as a place to get work done, often having takeout delivered. I just wanted no signs of her. Remy couldn’t find out.
“W-wait! Before you go in, there’s something I need to tell you!” I stammer out.
“What, Billie?” She opens the door and steps inside.
We look around, the place is impeccable, almost right how we left it. Everything is clean, no dust on any surfaces, and the plants freshly watered.
“Nice!” I say, relieved.
She looks over at me, “What did you wanna tell me?”
I look away, thinking of anything to say. As I do, I notice a crumpled piece of paper on the kitchen counter. I quickly shift my eyes from it and walk over to cover it up. “I… used your toothbrush last night. Sorry.”
She laughs, “Ew. I have extras here, it’s fine.” She walks away, into her room.
I grab the paper, quickly reading it over. A receipt. I stuff it in my pocket, a sigh of relief leaving my mouth. Hopefully nothing else was left here.
“Oh no, they forgot something!”
My eyes widened, immediately running into the room.
I enter too late, her eyes are fixed on the brown leather. It’s a wallet.
“Oh, fuck.” it comes out as a whisper, my heart thrumming in my chest.
“It’s fine.” Remy laughs lightheartedly, blissfully unaware of the stress that’s seizing my body as she flips it over in her hands.
“Well, don’t open it. We don’t want them to think we took anything.” I say, nervously popping my fingers and cracking my muscles.
“Obviously, I’m not gonna take anything, but maybe we can check the license for an address?” She says and flips it open, her eyes landing on the ID inside.
Recognition flashes over her face followed by a furrow in her brows. My breath catches in my throat as I wait for her reaction, wondering if she’ll connect the dots back to me. She slides the plastic card out from its clear pocket to observe it closer.
“Zoe?”
I say nothing. I just stand in the doorway.
“Why are you being weird? Just tell me why Zoe’s wallet is in my apartment.”
“I don’t know, she probably just left it last time she was here.”
“Obviously, so when was the last time she was here?”
“Why would I know?”
“Because the last time I know of her being in my apartment was a year ago. And I know for a fact she didn’t leave her ID in my apartment for a year without mentioning it, so what the fuck?”
“Yeah, she needed a place to stay?”
“Other than… her house?”
“I don’t see the problem.” I lie, trying to deflect for a moment longer so I can think.
“You don't see the problem with her needing a second place not 20 minutes away from her actual house?”
“She was using it as office space, is that okay?” I say it like it’s obvious, hoping I can discourage her from asking more questions so we can end this interrogation.
“Okay… so why didn’t you tell me Zoe was the one renting my apartment?”
“I didn’t think you'd care.”
“What? That’s dumb. If you didn’t think I’d care, you would’ve just told me. Especially because I was worried the tenant might’ve trashed my place.”
“Well– I just thought you wouldn’t let her rent your apartment because it’s someone we know, and you’d think of it as charity.”
“So you /did/ think i'd mind.”
“No, I knew you wouldn’t mind if Zoe used your apartment while we were on tour, but I thought you might not accept money for it.”
“So you kept it from me so I couldn't make my own decision, and then when I found out you tried to hide it from me? ”
“We just got back from having fun on tour and I didn’t want you to get upset and end up in an argument.”
“Well, I am upset! And you know what's frustrating? If you had just talked to me about it I wouldn’t be so upset.” She stops for a moment and I can see pieces clicking together in her head “Were you stalling earlier? Is that why you kept trying to go shopping?”
I shake my head but she interrupts me before I can answer.
“Billie, I'm not gonna sit here while you talk us in circles all day. I know you. You’re lying.”
“I’m not-“
“Tell me what you’re lying about or i’m gonna call Zoe and find out from her.”
I sigh aggressively, “I knew you wouldn’t be comfortable letting me pay”
“So you went behind my back instead? Billie, that’s so fucked up.”
“I wouldn’t have had to go behind your back if you had just let me take you with me on tour. I can afford it and I want you there, I don't understand what the big deal is.”
“The big deal is, I wasn’t comfortable letting you pay for everything! And that should be enough for you. You act like I'm not letting you fund my whole life because I'm trying to be difficult! You act like my boundaries are inconvenient, like I’m just being polite and waiting for you to talk me into it. You don’t listen. And now I’ve been accepting money from Zoe, who can’t afford to fund my life on tour because she’s actually a normal fucking person.”
“Are you kidding? I’m a normal person, too! It’s not like I’m a billionaire. I'm just lucky enough that I can afford some luxuries, like having my best friend with me on tour. You act like you needed your own bus and chauffeur, and lobster every night. We shared a hotel room and walked places. All I would’ve paid for are your meals, and even those we shared some nights.”
“You know what I mean.” she affirms “God, do you know how much that sucks? You know I can’t just let Zoe do that. That was SO much money on top of everything else i’m sure she has to pay for.”
“She didn’t pay for it. I did.” I confess. At this point, I figure it's best to lay it all out so she doesn’t hear it from someone else.
Remy closes her eyes, taking in the information and clearly trying to stabilize her emotions before she reacts.
“I told you,” when she finally speaks, her voice quivers and i'm not sure if it's with rage or hurt. “How many times did I tell you? I didn’t want you to do that.”
“Think about it, though! We had such an amazing time on tour and we got to spend so much time together!Time that would’ve been cut in half if you’d just gone home. You never would’ve gone rock climbing or had a picnic in Australia. We both would’ve been miserable, but we didn’t have to be! Not if you just let me take care of you!”
“So, this was never about me, then?” She crosses her arms.
/ If only you knew, that in my head, everything is about you all the time. I’m surprised every word that comes out of my mouth isn’t your name.
“What are you talking about?” Exasperation laces my tone. How could she hear how desperately I wanted her near me, how I was willing to lie to keep her there, and think this was about anything but her.
“You wanted me to stay on tour. You didn’t care if I wasn't comfortable with you paying for me. You made the decision to have someone rent my apartment, and then you decided to lie to me about it so I wouldn’t go home. Any good memories I have from the tour are tainted now because you can’t ever just be straight forward with me.”
“No! You’re just saying that because you’re mad right now. Which is valid, and I understand it’s my fault, and I’m sorry!” I approach her.
She rolls her eyes, looking across the room at the way the golden hour splays across her couch, so she can avoid looking at me. So she can avoid seeing the pitiful look I get on my face everytime we’re fighting, and how desperate I am every time I know it’s my fault.
I feel like I'm back in my room with Ellie, going back and forth trying to explain myself. Trying to explain why I act the way I do, trying to express that I just don’t want her to go, even if I don’t necessarily deserve her to stay. Begging to be cleansed, atoning at her feet like a weary disciple. May my god shine mercy on me, may she let me into her embrace again.
“It’s not just that.” She shakes her head, looking like I’ve put a bitter taste in her mouth. “You’ve been acting weird and cagey all tour, and now I know why! Is this what you were always whispering with Finneas about? Is this why you were always sneaking away to make phone calls?”
“No! No, Remy that's not it at all!”
“So, what else are you not telling me?”
My voice catches in my throat as I consider what to say next. Even if I were ready, now is not the time to profess my love and confess my feelings. I don’t even think she’d care to hear it right now. But, after this, what am I to say? It’s clearly not nothing.
“Billie, just go. I need some time.” My wings have been clipped, I am falling back to earth. Cold and decaying among you mere mortals, separated from my life source.
I’m brought back once again to my time with Ellie. To the packed bags and the feeling in my stomach. Before I know what i’m doing, the word leaves my mouth
“No.”
She raises her brow at me, but I muster the confidence to continue, “I’m not leaving. You said I’m not straightforward and I don't confront things, so that’s what I'm going to do. I’m gonna stay here until we’re done talking it out, and if you just want to sit there and be mad at me, then fine. But, I’m not leaving.” I cross my arms.
Her gaze bores into me so harshly, I can almost feel the heat from where it lands on my skin.
“I’m not.” I affirm, but i’m not sure if it’s for her, or for me. “Because last time we got in a fight, and one of us left, I almost lost you.” My voice cracks, and I wish it didn’t, but I can't help it when I remember the way she looked in that hospital bed. My legs begin to feel weak so I take a seat on the floor, staging my peaceful protest.
The cool July breeze blows in through the open hotel window, welcoming us into the room at a chilling sixteen degrees celsius.
“I’m freezing!” She runs over to the thermostat, “Sixteen degrees? Whats that in Fahrenheit?”
I search on Google, “Uhh… sixty-two degrees.”
She spams the thermostat buttons, turning the temperature up to warm up the room.
I drop my stuff on the floor, immediately plopping on one of the two beds. Usually our room comes with one giant king sized bed, but this time we have two queen beds. One for each.
“God I’m so tired…” My muscles relax and melt into the mattress, while the scent of freshly washed linen fills my nostrils. I breathe out, so glad to be off the airplane, so glad that all this flying back and forth will soon come to an end.
The past few months flew by. Remy started freaking out about making ends meet, and having to break her lease, so I arranged for a tenant to stay in her apartment, to help pay for rent while she is away, on tour with me.
Or so she thinks.
Really, I’ve just been paying an assistant of mine to check out the apartment once a week to make sure plants are watered, surfaces are dusted, and everything is taken care of.
At the same time, I’ve been sending my assistant $1,900 each month, for her to send back to Remy as “rent.”
I feel bad for doing this behind her back, but can you blame me for trying to help? I had to do something to soothe her worries. I had to do something to keep her from leaving, from going back home in the middle of tour, to deal with the overwhelming stress all alone.
Besides, tour will be over by the end of the month now, and life in LA will go back to normal. Back to making new music in my cozy little basement, back to not constantly being on vocal rest, back to life as usual… Back to waking up when I want, sleeping in my own bed, alone…
“You get your own bed tonight.” Remy says coincidentally, almost as if we communicated telepathically, from across the room. I always fear she could read my mind.
“Mhmm.” The bed muffles my voice as I respond, not bothering to look up from my spot. I haven’t been this comfortable in eleven whole hours.
The flight here was smooth, but I got zero sleep. Remy did. She slept like a perfect angel the whole way here, and proceeded to fall asleep in the car, on the way to the hotel. I practically slept-walked through security, exhausted, both physically and mentally.
Now, it’s almost four in the morning. Remy is doing her skin care routine in the bathroom, and I can’t even get up to change into pjs.
I finally talk myself into standing, maybe just long enough to take off my clothes and climb into bed.
“Rem, can you—“ I sit up, only to see she came out holding a mint pasted toothbrush out to me. She always manages to know exactly what I need. Mind reader, I swear!
“Yes, thank you.” I force a smile, a headache forming already, as I brush my teeth.
I walk into the bathroom, where she’s already moisturizing her freshly exfoliated face. “I want to shower, but if I stand another minute longer, my feet might fall off.”
She laughs, “You look like shit. Just wash your face and go to sleep.”
I nod, spitting foam into the sink. I watch the water go down the drain as I rinse my mouth, zoning out for a few seconds, not thinking about anything in particular.
“Your face.” She reminds me, handing me the facial wash.
“Right.” I begin lathering my face as Remy walks back into the room, where I hear her rummage through her things.
I finish up, turning the light off and shutting the bathroom door. Remy is already tucked in a bed, the left side of the room already claimed by her in a lilac hoodie, which covers her head as she scrolls social media.
I change out of my clothes into something clean and warm, forcing myself into the empty bed on the right side of the room, deciding to make unpacking tomorrow’s problem.
Remy’s belongings already adorn the furniture on her side of the room. She always unpacks and organizes as soon as we enter the room. It’s a ritual for her. All that is left for her to unpack are her clothes, but this time, she also decided to make them tomorrow’s problem. Although, I could already hear her rushing me to unpack my things so we can get on with our day.
I stretch out, convincing myself that the extra space is so much better than sharing a bed with Remy. She reaches over to one of the closest lamps on the nightstand between us, turning off the light, and plugging in her phone to charge. I realize then, that I never got my charger out, but the thought of digging and fishing for it through all my bags made me want to die instead.
I leave my dying phone on the nightstand and turn off my lamp, sinking my face into the plush hotel pillow before shutting my eyes.
“Get some rest pookie.” She says, her eyes closed and her voice trailing off into dreams.
“Goodnight.” I close my eyes, my lips forming into a tiny smile.
I try to keep my eyes shut for several minutes, hoping my exhaustion takes over, but I can’t help taking a peek at her. The moonlight sneaks through the window and the satin curtains, bouncing off Remy’s cheekbones. Despite the room being so cold, the heat barely catching up, she lays peacefully, probably already fast asleep.
Curled up under the heavy comforter, my body sinks into the memory foam beneath me, my eyes betraying me and the roof of my mouth aching as a yawn fights its way through.
There is no one to throw my leg over, there is no chest to lay my head on, no feet to kick me all night, and no hands to rip the covers from me every few hours. I sigh, grabbing one of the many pillows under my neck, tucking it under the covers, throwing my leg over it and turning toward the window. It isn’t the same.
I close my eyes, too tired to keep longing for Remy’s warm body in my bed, and fall asleep after about 4 deep, deep breaths.
The following morning I wake up in an empty hotel room. The temperature is dry and cool, the window open again, swinging back and forth from the soft breeze. It is much warmer outside, the heater is no longer necessary.
I drag myself out of bed, making it a point to look in the mirror before taking a shower and changing into new clothes. A white, thrifted, graphic t-shirt and a pair of wide cargo jeans. I let my hair air dry as I run my skin care routine on auto pilot, while I overthink.
London is the last stop on our tour, and my favorite tour photographer will be no more. Having Remy attached at the hip, snapping photos, filling her phone camera roll and all the storage on each camera HD card, has been my very own personal heaven on earth. Every moment is worth it, even if I must go to hell each and every time I think about the fact that she is not mine. Not forever, not now, and not ever.
My instagram feed is mostly credited to her. I will keep these photos, and many that the world will never see, in my heart forever. I am certain this tour is like the summer vacation we will never be able to experience again. Not this close, not this together. I am forever grateful I get to spend this last month with her, before I hand her back to another job, another person, another life she doesn’t deserve.
My phone rings, my familiar ringtone bringing music to my ears.
“Hey, where did you disappear off to?” I speak into the bottom of the phone, setting it on speaker.
“The shops. Found some cute markets.” I could hear the smile in her voice, and picture the smile lines it formed on her tan, freckled face.
“Can I join?” I ask, like a drooling golden retriever, dying to trail behind her in awe.
“Obviously! I’ll send you the address.”
“I’ll meet you in a bit.” I smile until the end of our call.
I search her location on my phone, and see that it’s within walking distance. I put on some dark sunglasses and a hat, and start on my way.
The walk up to the markets isn’t very long. Only about 10 minutes. On the way to the markets, I pass by a flower shop. The smell is so strong, so fragrant, that I have to stop in and sniff around. The daisies catch my eye in all sorts of colors. White, yellow, red, pink, and purple. I look around, seeing all the different varieties of arrangements I can make for her.
“Do you care for a handful, my lovely?” A sweet, older lady, standing behind the counter, asks from across the shop.
What if I did? What if I just put together the most beautiful flowers in London and make her a bouquet? What if I give them to her, at the centre, in front of everyone, and I ask her to be my girl.
Yeah, right. As if.
“No, thank you, miss. They’re all so beautiful, though.” I lean in to smell some deep, dark roses.
“How about a free half dozen, then? On the house.” She grins, watching me enjoy the scent.
“No, I couldn’t.” I shake my head, backing away from the roses as she floats towards me with both hands on her hip.
“Well, of course you could, my love. It is only but six flowers, dear.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, gesturing towards the array of plants scattered around the store.
I smile at her, “You’re so kind, miss—“
“I’ll let you pick out your bunch, I’ll be over there.” She sashays over to the register, waiting patiently.
I end up picking two dozen flowers. All different kinds, all different colors, but all remind me of one person. The daisies remind me of how pure and genuine she is, while peonies remind me of how strong and independent she is. The roses remind me of her beauty and grace, and the chrysanthemums remind me of the warm glow of joy she spreads when she’s around. I could get lost in this shop, giving each flower a new meaning but every second spent away from her, is a second wasted.
I put out my wallet, “Two dozen, please.” I smile.
“On the house.” She grins back.
“No, it’s okay, I really appreciate—“
“Aht aht! I said half a dozen on the house, you can take it or leave it.” She rings up a dozen and a half and shows me on the screen, before turning it back around.
I laugh, “You have yourself a deal.”
I slide my card, and when I get my receipt, I see she only charged me for one dozen.
“Hey! You tricked me!” I cross my arms.
She chuckles, “Have you ever let anybody do something nice for you, sweet pea?”
I shake my head, “Thank you, miss. She’s going to love them.”
“I hope she does.” She nods her head, waving me out the door.
I walk down the pebble stone path to the markets, looking down at the giant, floral paper wrapped bouquet in my hands.
I’m going to tell her. I’m going to confess my feelings for her. She’s going to know how I feel.
Maybe not out in the open, in front of everybody, but maybe I’ll take her on a walk, to a little cafe, or the park.
Sooner than later, beyond all the wandering bodies, I spot her chatting away with a tall man. A vendor I assume.
As I get closer, I hold the bouquet behind my back, waiting patiently, watching them from the corner of the sidewalk.
I watch as she laughs at something he says, while twirling a strand of her hair in her finger. I watch as he puts on a front that he’s not melting under her gaze.
I look closer and notice they’re holding identical coffee cups, which they sip at the same time too. Then, she hands him her phone and he types something in. He hands it back to her and he waves as she walks away.
My heart feels like a crumpled piece of paper, balled up and thrown in the trash. I almost forget about the giant bouquet behind my back, as a pedestrian accidentally bumps into it, accidentally causing some petals to drop to the ground.
I look at the beautiful arrangement before me, the bright colors no longer speaking to me. I take a deep breath and swallow, trying to drown my sorrow.
“You made it!” Her red cheeks and matching glossy lips pull me out of my own head.
“I did, I made it.” I smile the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.
“Ooh! Where’d you get these?” Her glimmering eyes look up at me while pointing at the flowers. She sniffs them, taking them from my hands.
“A fan gave them to me.” I lie, watching her hold the flowers I picked out just for her. I watch as each one compliments her outfit well. She wraps her two hands around the stems as if she were walking down the aisle to me
“They’re beautiful! They must’ve cost a fortune. I wish somebody got me flowers like these.” She leans down to smell them once again.
“It was really sweet.” I try to change the subject, “Find anything cool?”
“Yeah, actually! I got you…” Remy reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a dark green and black vintage sweatshirt. She holds it up to her chest for a second, before turning it over and showing my name embroidered on the back.
“Oh, Rem, this is so dope!” I smile big, taking it from her and admiring the work.
“Isn’t it? A little shop down the street does them. I got myself one too.”
“Thank you!” I hug her, taking in her scent for the first time since she fell asleep on me yesterday, in the plane, on our way to London. Sleeping in separate beds left me craving that scent like an addict.
“I saw it and I thought of you. I knew you’d love it.” She says, my heart warming back up at the thought of her thinking about me, even during her short time away from me. Even with tall, attractive, men looming around.
“I do love it.”
She chuckles softly into my ear in our embrace, probably because I’m holding onto her still. Probably wondering why I haven’t let go.
“You got coffee too?” I pull away, remembering her little exchange.
“Yeah, this really nice guy payed for it at the cafe right across the street there.” She points. “Everyone here is so nice, right?” She gestures towards the flowers.
“Yeah, really.” I nod.
“Let’s keep exploring, come on.” She takes my arm, looping hers around, guiding me down the long pebble stone path of shops.
She gasps excitedly before we enter a clothing store. A boutique of some sorts.
We spend about an hour trying on clothes, putting on a fashion show for each other in the tiny dressing rooms. She twirls in short skirts and leather tops, and I dance around in cargo pants and oversized shorts. She looks so beautiful in everything. Everything fits her perfectly, like it was tailored to her body.
I do my best not to let her catch me staring too long. “So, someone bought you coffee today, huh?” I sit on a little bench inside the dressing room.
“Yeah.” She smiles at herself in the mirror, smoothing out the fabric at her sides.
I nod, “Tell me more…” Hoping she’ll put my mind at ease with any delusions, hoping she’ll say it was just a kind gesture. That they didn’t exchange numbers, that she was just showing him something on her phone.
“We talked and walked around for a bit. He was kinda cute, wasn’t he?” She looks at me through the reflection in the mirror.
“Yeah, totally.” I respond quickly.
“He smelled good too.” She changes back into her original outfit.
I think of how close they had to be for her to be able to smell his cologne and my insides burn.
“Yeah?” I fidget with my hands.
“Mhmm.” She pulls out her phone, “He gave me his instagram too!” She shows me his profile. This guy doesn’t have a single bad photo, which is not common amongst men.
“Nice!” I act intrigued, when really I couldn’t care less.
“He gave me his number.” She wiggles her brows at me.
“Oh, really?”
Fuck. My. Life.
“Yeah. I probably won’t text him. I’m sure he’s already forgotten about me.” She shrugs, leaving the dressing room with all the clothes.
“Yeah, probably.” I stand up and follow closely behind.
I pull out my card to pay for our shopping spree, but she stops me, handing the cashier her own. “Are you kidding? I got this.”
“Are you sure? Rem, you don’t have to!” I watch as she slides her card for her.
“Yeah, I’m the best photographer in the world, remember? These paychecks gotta go towards something, now that I don’t have to worry about rent.” She laughs, bumping into me with her shoulder, playfully.
We walk out of the store with our new outfits, content as can be.
