mayar

𝒽oneyed words for quiet souls

[verysweetly]

‧₊˚ always craving the sweetness ‧₊˚.

˚ ｡ ⋆ ℳayar infp eighteen she//her rules femme masterlist words & wonder heart flutters 𝟺 girls taglist lowercase writer ៶៶ׄ ✉️- made entirely of love & daydreams.

© verysweetly | est. january 2026.

[verysweetly]

guys im scared

if chapter eleven sucks im getting jumped 😳

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

˒˒ masterlist.

𑅞 chapter two : ℋow to flirt (wrong) 𑅕

the thing about billie eilish was that she didn’t lose. it wasn’t in her vocabulary, it wasn’t in her dna, and it certainly wasn’t something her ego was prepared to handle on a random tuesday morning three weeks after the infamous patio incident.

she spent the first week doing absolutely nothing, fully convinced that you would magically pop up on her instagram feed, or that she’d casually bump into you at the campus coffee shop and you’d look at her with wide, regretful eyes, begging for a redo.

that didn’t happen. in fact, you had completely vanished into thin air, as if you only existed within the weird, late night bubble of that specific frat porch.

by week two, the two hundred bucks on the line felt less like a fun side quest and more like a personal insult.

"she’s literally a ghost," billie complained, slamming her heavy leather backpack onto the library table. she collapsed into the wooden chair opposite her friend, shoving her backward cap down lower until her vision was half blocked by the brim. "i’ve walked past the lit building four times today. four times! i looked like a fucking stalker, bro. nothing. not a glimpse."

her friend didn't even look up from their laptop, a quiet, mocking snort escaping them as their fingers flew across the keyboard. "maybe she dropped out. or maybe she saw you coming and sprinted the other way. i would."

"shut up," billie muttered, resting her chin on the cool wood of the table, staring blankly at a stack of textbooks she had no intention of opening. "she didn't run. she’s just... busy or some shit. but the clock is ticking. midterms are in three weeks and i refuse to let you guys hold this over my head."

"two hundred bucks, eilish," the friend reminded her, finally looking up with a shit eating grin. "and right now, the ice queen is winning by a landslide. you haven't even gotten a text back because you don't even have her number."

billie sat up straight, her blue eyes narrowing. "watch your mouth. i’m formulating a strategy. phase two starts today."

phase two, as it turned out, was an absolute trainwreck.

it began at the student center. billie had spotted you sitting at one of the high top tables near the windows, a pair of oversized headphones resting around your neck, completely locked into whatever you were typing on your laptop. you had a half eaten bag of spicy chips next to you, and you looked so painfully cool and detached from the loud, bustling environment around you that billie felt her chest tighten with that familiar, annoying surge of competitive adrenaline.

she smoothed down her oversized vintage jersey, adjusted her rings, and put on her best, most effortless walk as she strolled over. she didn't just sit down. she leaned over the back of the empty chair opposite you, resting her chin in her hands, staring up at you with a heavy, deliberate gaze.

"you know," billie started, her voice dropping into that low, raspy register she used when she wanted someone to lose their mind. "it’s practically a crime to look that good while studying. it’s distracting the general public. specifically me."

you didn't even flinch. your fingers kept moving across the keyboard for three whole seconds before you slowly paused, your eyes shifting from the screen to billie’s face. you blinked once, twice, as if trying to process why the girl from the frat house was suddenly invading your personal space at 1:00 pm on a tuesday.

"oh. hey, billie," you said, your tone entirely flat, devoid of any panic or excitement. you reached over, grabbed a chip, and popped it into your mouth. "are you... okay? your voice sounds a little hoarse. do you need a cough drop?"

billie’s smug expression entirely shattered. she blinked, her head tilting slightly in genuine disbelief. "a cough drop? no, bro. i’m.. my voice is fine. i was doing a thing."

"a thing," you repeated, nodding slowly as you went back to typing. "right. well, cool. good luck with the thing."

billie stood there for a second, her hands swinging uselessly at her sides. she had expected a blush, a nervous laugh, maybe a witty comeback. instead, she got the equivalent of a polite nod from a stranger at a bus stop. it was brutal. it was naturally, effortlessly dismissive, and it made billie want to pull her hair out.

"so," billie tried again, shifting her weight and pulling out the chair, sitting down without being invited. she leaned her elbows on the table, trying to regain high ground. "what are we working on? must be pretty important if you're completely ignoring a five star experience sitting right in front of you."

you didn't look up from your screen. "an essay on victorian literature. and it’s due in two hours, so yeah, it’s kind of important."

"victorian literature," billie echoed, trying to sound cultured but mostly just sounding desperate. "dope. love that. old books. very... aesthetic. i’m actually a big fan of poetry and shit. you should read me some sometime."

"it’s an analysis of institutional corruption and gender roles, billie, not love poems," you said smoothly, finally hitting save on your laptop and shutting the lid with a soft click.

billie’s eyes lit up. perfect. she shut the laptop. that means she wants to talk.

"well, i’m an expert on gender roles," billie grinned, leaning in closer, her eyes locked onto yours with that heavy, intense look. "for example, my role right now is to convince you to give me those ten digits, and your role is to finally stop playing hard to get."

you looked at her for a long, quiet moment. the silence stretched between you, heavy and awkward, exactly like it had on the porch. billie held her breath, waiting for the crack in your armor.

then, you glanced down at your wrist, checking your watch. you stood up, swinging your tote bag over your shoulder in one fluid motion, completely ignoring the comment.

"i have to go print this out before class starts," you said, giving her a small, polite smile that didn't reach your eyes. "have a good tuesday, billie."

you walked away. you didn't look back.

billie sat alone at the high top table, staring at the empty space where you had just been. her jaw was practically unhinged. she let out a breathy, irritated laugh, running a hand over her face.

"are you fucking kidding me?" she muttered to the empty chair, her chest tight with an aggressive mixture of embarrassment and pure, unadulterated frustration. "a cough drop? seriously?"

by the end of the week, it became a pattern. a horrific, deeply bruising pattern for billie’s ego.

every single time she tried to engineer a casual, cool girl encounter, you accidentally and entirely naturally blew her off. it wasn’t even like you were being mean, that was the worst part. if you were being a bitch, billie could work with that. she knew how to handle an attitude. but you were just... normal. you treated her like a minor inconvenience, like a persistent fly that kept buzzing around your head while you were trying to live your life.

on thursday, she saw you walking near the campus quad. she sprinted ahead, cutting through the grass to intercept you, pulling up short right in front of your path with a confident, breathless smirk.

"hey," billie said, blocking your way, her hands shoved into her pockets. "funny running into you here. it’s like the universe wants us to hang out."

you stopped, pulling one earbud out of your ear. "oh, hi. sorry, i’m actually in a huge rush. my group project is meeting in five minutes and if i’m late, my grade drops a whole letter. see ya!"

you sidestepped her and kept walking, putting your earbud back in before she could even open her mouth to reply.

on friday, she tried the dining hall. she saw you standing in the incredibly long line for the sandwich station. billie skipped the entire line, completely ignoring the groans of the students behind her, and slid into the space right next to you, bumping her shoulder against yours playfully.

"hey, stranger," billie purred, tilting her head. "i notice you’re missing something very important in your life right now."

you looked at her, then looked at the sandwich counter, then back to her. "a turkey club? yeah, that's why i'm in line."

"no," billie groaned internally, maintaining her smug look through sheer force of will. "me. you’re missing me. let me buy your lunch."

"oh, no thank you, i have a meal plan," you said, handing your student id to the cashier who had just called you forward. you took your sandwich, gave billie a quick wave, and walked off toward a table full of people billie didn't know.

she stood by the cash register, holding a bag of chips she didn't even want, her face burning.

"yo, eilish! you paying for that or what?" the cashier barked.

"yeah," billie snapped, throwing a five-dollar bill onto the counter, her jaw clenching so hard it ached. "keep the change."

the absolute breaking point happened the following monday.

billie was sitting in the courtyard of the humanities building with her friends, the same group from the frat house. they were lounging on the concrete steps, the afternoon sun hitting them, laughing loudly about some video on someone’s phone. billie wasn't paying attention. she was staring aggressively at the glass doors of the building, waiting.

"look at her," one of the guys laughed, nudging another friend. "she’s got the twitch. the eilish twitch. three weeks in and she’s completely broken."

"i am not broken," billie growled, not taking her eyes off the doors. "i’m calculating."

"bro, you look like a bloodhound," the friend scoffed. "just admit defeat. two hundred bucks. pay up and we can all stop watching you get absolutely obliterated by a girl who reads poetry for fun."

"she doesn't read poetry, she analyzes institutional corruption," billie corrected sharply, her voice tight. "and i'm not losing. just watch."

right on cue, the glass doors swung open, and you walked out. you were wearing a giant, vintage crewneck sweater that looked three sizes too big, your hair tied up loosely, a stack of books pressed against your chest. you looked tired, entirely checked out, your eyes fixed on the path leading back to the dorms.

billie didn't even say anything to her friends. she stood up instantly, her boots hitting the concrete with a heavy thud, and marched straight toward you.

her friends immediately started cheering quietly, whispering and snickering behind her back, watching the circus unfold.

"y/n," billie called out, her voice loud enough to cut through the quiet courtyard.

you stopped, turning your head toward the sound. when you saw billie marching toward you with an expression that looked borderline criminal, you let out a small, tired sigh, adjusting the books in your arms.

billie pulled up right in front of you, her chest rising and falling with an irritated breath. she didn't put on the smooth voice this time. she didn't use a pickup line. her ego had been pushed to its absolute limit, and she was completely losing her mind.

"you’re avoiding me," billie stated bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest, her blue eyes glaring down at you with a mix of frustration and desperate confidence.

you blinked, totally thrown off by the sudden accusation. you glanced past her shoulder, noticing the circle of her friends watching intently from the steps, before looking back at billie. "no, i’m not."

"yes, you are," billie insisted, stepping a fraction closer, her jaw tight. "every time i show up, you vanish. you left the student center immediately after i got there last week. literally left me sitting at an empty table like a loser."

"i had class, billie," you said, your voice completely calm, which only served to make billie feel even more insane.

"right," billie scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcastic disbelief. she threw her hands up briefly before shoving them back into her pockets. "every single time? the quad? the dining hall? today? you just happened to have somewhere to be the exact second i breathe in your direction?"

you stared at her, an amused, slightly bewildered expression spreading across your face. the sheer absurdity of billie eilish the campus god, the untouchable skater girl standing in the middle of the courtyard throwing a mini tantrum because you hadn't stayed to chat with her was almost too funny to handle.

"do you want my attendance record?" you asked, a genuine, teasing smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "should i get my professors to sign off on a slip every time i leave a building so you know i’m not running from you?"

silence dropped over the courtyard.

from the steps behind billie, a loud, explosive burst of laughter erupted from her friends. one of the guys literally doubled over, slapping his knee, while the others covered their mouths, their shoulders shaking with violent, mocking giggles.

“do you want my attendance record? oh my god,” someone mimicked from the steps, entirely too loud.

billie’s face went completely, utterly red. the humiliation hit her like a physical wave, radiating straight to the tips of ears. she stood there, frozen, staring at your face. you weren't even being mean, you were just looking at her with this soft, amused curiosity, like she was a very loud, very confused puppy.

the silence between you two stretched, heavy and agonizingly awkward. billie could hear her own heart thumping against her ribs, completely drowned out by the muffled laughter of her friends behind her.

she swallowed hard, trying with everything inside her to salvage her reputation, to bring back the smug, cocky frat boy that everyone knew. she forced her shoulders to drop, tilting her head back to look down her nose at you, a slow, incredibly forced smirk crawling onto her face.

"very funny," billie said, her voice dropping into a quiet, insisting murmur as she stepped directly into your personal space. her jersey practically brushed against your books. she leaned in, her eyes boring into yours with desperate, stubborn intensity. "you think you’re so clever, huh? playing hard mode. i see you. but you’re still gonna give me that number, y/n. you’re gonna give it to me because you know you want to. you’re just scared you’re gonna like me too much."

you didn't back down. you didn't even blink. you just let out a soft, breathy chuckle, shifting your books to one side.

"i'm really not scared, billie," you said softly, your tone entirely gentle, which somehow made the rejection bite ten times harder. "but i really do have to go. my roommate is locked out of our room."

you gave her one last, lingering look. not a mean one, just a polite, slightly pitying smile. and stepped around her, continuing your walk down the path.

billie stood completely still in the middle of the grass. the second your back was turned, the forced smirk instantly vanished from her face, replaced by a heavy, furious scowl. her fists clenched inside her pockets.

"fucking hell," billie muttered under her breath, her jaw locking so tight it clicked. she kicked a loose piece of mulch across the concrete pathway, her shoulders slumping in deep, unadulterated annoyance. "this is gonna be so fucking annoying. i hate this. i literally hate her."

she turned around, forcing a stiff, arrogant posture back into her spine as she marched back toward the steps where her friends were practically crying from laughter.

"eilish!" one of them hollered, wiping a literal tear from their eye as she approached. "did you get the syllabus? did she give you permission to speak to her next week?"

"shut the fuck up," billie snapped, snatching her energy drink off the concrete step. she looked back over her shoulder for a split second, watching your oversized crewneck disappear around the corner of the library building.

she swallowed her pride, forcing a lazy, entirely fake grin back onto her lips as she looked back at her circle, trying to stop the bleeding.

taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia @byeilish @mscomet @malefantasy23 @billiesf4v @yurihxlic @angelbloodedd

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[verysweetly]

is it still socially acceptable to drop all eleven chapters at once because i physically cannot wait and im super excited or do i have to pretend im normal and space them out like a patient person?

lmk ❤️

[verysweetly]

yall are greeeeeedy 😳

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

˒˒ masterlist.

𑅞 chapter one : 𝓒onfidence issues. 𑅕

billie eilish was having a very good night.

which usually meant everyone else was about to suffer for it.

the bass in the frat house living room was so aggressive it was vibrating the cheap plastic cup in her hand, the sticky, warm liquid inside threatening to spill over the brim. she was perched on the arm of a saggy, unidentifiable couch, completely in her element. she had the backwards cap on, the oversized jersey hanging off her shoulders, and an expression of pure, unadulterated confidence stitched onto her face.

around her, the usual crowd of nameless frat guys and lacrosse girls were shouting over the music, gassing her up like they always did. someone had just challenged her to chug a terrifyingly blue drink, and she’d done it in record time, slamming the cup down to a chorus of obnoxious cheers.

"literally unstoppable," one of the guys yelled, slapping her on the back hard enough to rattle her teeth. "eilish is actually elite tonight. someone stop her."

"can't stop a god," billie grinned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her blue eyes scanning the sweaty room with a smug, easy satisfaction. "i'm telling you, i could do anything tonight. ask for a raise at a job i don't work at. win a marathon backwards. anything."

"oh yeah? anything?" another friend leaned over the back of the couch, a wicked, drunk grin spreading across their face. they pointed a finger toward the french doors that led out to the backyard patio, away from the neon lights and the suffocating heat of the living room. "look out there."

billie squinted through the dirty glass.

out on the porch, sitting on a low brick wall beneath a string of cheap fairy lights, was you. you were completely detached from the chaos inside, holding a half empty drink, laughing at something your friend was showing you on a phone screen. the porch light hit your face just right, highlighting how soft you looked compared to the absolute carnage happening inside the house. you looked pretty. unapproachable, but definitely pretty.

"what about her?" billie asked, raising an eyebrow, her ego already stretching out its limbs.

"that’s the girl from the lit department. the one who literally doesn't look at anyone. total ice queen," the friend said, nudging billie’s shoulder. "bet you a hundred bucks you couldn't get someone like her."

billie let out a dry, breathy laugh. "a hundred? bro, make it two. what’s the criteria?"

"make her fall in love with you. like, completely down bad. by the end of the semester," the friend challenged, leaning in, their voice dripping with malice and amusement.

the rest of the circle erupted, a collective "oooooh" echoing through the corner of the room. it was stupid. it was so incredibly toxic and dumb, but billie was three drinks deep, her pride was soaring, and she thought it would be the funniest thing to ever happen on this campus.

"by the end of the semester?" billie chuckled, setting her empty cup down on a nearby table. she adjusted the brim of her backwards hat, a slow, predatory smirk crawling onto her lips. "i'll have it by midterms. watch this."

the group cheered, a few of them slapping her shoulders as she stood up. billie didn't even hesitate. she knocked back the rest of someone else’s drink, shrugged her shoulders to loosen up, and slid open the glass door, stepping out into the cool night air.

the sudden drop in volume outside was almost jarring. you were still laughing at your friend's phone when the heavy screen door slid shut, and the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps crunched on the gravel toward your little corner of the patio.

you looked up, and there she was.

billie eilish. everyone on campus knew who she was the girl who dressed like a nineties skater boy, drove a car that was too loud, and had a trail of broken hearts behind her that she wore like a badge of honor. she stopped right in front of you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her baggy shorts, swaying slightly on her feet with a look that was entirely too confident.

the silence between you stretched instantly. it was thick, heavy, and incredibly awkward. your friends stopped talking, staring up at her like a wild animal had just wandered into the camp.

you blinked, clearing your throat because the silence was getting unbearable. "uh. can we help you?"

billie didn't answer right away. she just tilted her head, her blue eyes locked onto yours, staring with an intensity that made your stomach do a weird, uncomfortable flip. then, she let out a low, slow whistle.

"are you a parking ticket?" billie asked, her voice a low, gravelly drawl. "'cause you got fine written all over you."

your friend next to you literally snorted into their cup. you just stared at her, completely deadpan. the line was so old, so bad, and delivered with so much unearned swagger that you honestly didn't know whether to laugh or walk away.

"did you... seriously just say that?" you asked, looking at her like she had two heads.

"yeah," billie said, not missing a beat. she leaned one hand against the brick wall right next to your thigh, invading your space with a smug smile. "and it usually works. you're supposed to blush now."

"well, it didn't," you said, taking a sip of your drink, trying to look unaffected despite how close she was. the silence fell over the group again. it was painful. billie just stood there, staring down at you, completely unbothered by the fact that her opening line had completely tanked.

your friends were exchanging wide eyed looks, but nobody was moving.

the stranger was just standing there. it was so awkward you felt obligated to keep the conversation from entirely flatlining. "are you... waiting for someone out here, or...?"

"nah," billie said, her eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before snapping back up. "just looking at you. honestly, i think there's something wrong with my phone."

you sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "let me guess. it doesn't have my number in it?"

billie snapped her fingers, a grin breaking across her face. "see? we're on the same wavelength. brainwaves matching and shit. hand it over."

she pulled her phone out of her pocket, tossing it lightly in her hand, expecting you to just reach out and take it.

"no," you said simply.

billie’s hand paused. her smirk twitched, just a little. she wasn't used to hearing that word. "no? what do you mean, no? come on. don't be like that."

"i don't even know you," you said, shifting slightly away from her hand on the wall. "and your pickup lines are terrible. so, no."

instead of looking defeated, billie’s eyes lit up. the rejection didn't pop her balloon. it just made her lean in closer, an annoyingly cocky grin spreading across her face.

she stepped directly into your personal space, her jersey brushing against your knee. she looked down at you, her voice dropping into a quiet, insisting murmur that was meant for only you to hear.

"they're not terrible, you're just playing hard to get," billie pointed out, her tone incredibly smug. she tapped the screen of her phone against her palm rhythmically.

"look, just put the digits in. i don't bite. unless you want me to. i’m literally a delight to talk to, ask anyone inside."

"i think i'll pass," you said, meeting her gaze evenly, refusing to let her intimidate you.

"are you sure?" billie pushed, tilting her head, her eyes scanning your face with that same frustratingly confident look. she stepped even closer, her boots practically touching yours. "you're gonna regret it. i'm a catch. total five star experience. you're really gonna deny yourself that?"

"pretty sure i'll survive," you replied, giving her a tight, polite smile that signaled the conversation was over.

another beat of heavy, awkward silence passed. billie stared at you, her phone still raised halfway, waiting for you to crack. you didn't. you just stared back, holding your ground.

finally, billie let out a short laugh, shaking her head. she shoved her phone back into her pocket, backing up a single step but keeping her eyes locked onto yours. "alright. okay. i see you. hard mode. i like a challenge."

she gave you one last, lingering look —smug, knowing, and entirely too self-assured—before turning on her heel and walking back toward the house.

as soon as her back was turned to the patio, the confident smirk instantly dropped from billie's face. her jaw tightened. she shoved her hands deep back into her pockets, her shoulders slumping slightly as she marched toward the glowing glass doors.

"fucking hell," she muttered under her breath, her voice irritated as she kicked a stray pebble across the concrete. "this is gonna be so fucking annoying."

she pushed the french doors open, stepping back into the sweltering, loud atmosphere of the living room. the second she was inside, her friends swarmed her, knocking into her shoulders, eager faces crowding around her.

"yo! did you talk to her? what happened?" one of them yelled over the bass, trying to see if she had a phone number pulled up on her screen. "did you get it?"

billie looked back through the glass door for a split second, seeing you out there, completely ignoring the house, laughing with your friends again. she swallowed down the hit to her ego, masking it instantly with a lazy, nonchalant shrug as she looked back at her circle.

"yeah..." billie said, a slow, calculated grin creeping back onto her face as she looked at the friend who made the bet. "yeah, i talked to her. stage one, bro. it's fine. it's totally fine."

taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[verysweetly]

is it still socially acceptable to drop all eleven chapters at once because i physically cannot wait and im super excited or do i have to pretend im normal and space them out like a patient person?

lmk ❤️

[verysweetly]

- 𝒫ink letters [b.e]

݁˖ summary : two hundred dollars to make her fall in love. that was the wager. it was supposed to be easy money. billie didn't do romance, and she certainly didn't do attachments, so playing the doting lover seemed like a breeze. the instructions were clear: reel her in, fake the smiles, and walk away richer. there was no room for error, and absolutely no room for heartstrings.

simple, right..?

݁˖ pairing : frat boy!billie x reader

‧₊˚ moodboard 𓏲 // drabbles & deleted scenes (soon)

💌 ﹒taglist : @ellae1l1sh @billiebobasia @byeilish @mscomet @malefantasy23 @billiesf4v @yurihxlic @angelbloodedd

chapters [ completed / ongoing ] :

one : 𝓒onfidence issues.

two : ℋow to flirt (wrong)

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven .

© verysweetly | all rights reserved.

[verysweetly]

some bets don’t end when you win.

some of them start there ₊˚⊹ ৻ꪆ

[mycupoverfloweth]

[astr0n0my-e1l1sh]

@verysweetly

[verysweetly]

cant believe someone leaked our friendship photoshoot 🫤

[caliscomet]

[verysweetly]

just finished writing a chapter for my new series and now im sitting here crying like i personally experienced all of it ☹️☹️☹️ if im crying imagine how yall gonna feel moahahahaha

[verysweetly]

wanna put me on your taglist 😁

i’ll think about it 🤔

[verysweetly]

writing about toxic lesbians and pretending im normal

[verysweetly]

is that the end of her greatest project 😔

girl noo we’re just getting started 🤭

[verysweetly]

ℋer greatest project ₊ ⊹ 𝟑 ♰ [b.e]

⟢ previous , masterlist

summary : the aftermath of a breakdown is always domestic, until it isn't. evangeline is drowning in the suffocating weight of a perfect sunday afternoon, forced to play the dutiful preacher's daughter at a family lunch while billie sits across the marble counter. billie doesn't leave. she just stretches the boundaries to see how much pressure it takes before evangeline cracks in front of her own parents.

wc : 4k words.

cw : religious guilt, heavy psychological tension, intense power dynamics, jealousy..?

the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway signaled the end of evangeline’s countdown.

beside her, billie didn't flinch. she simply smoothed a stray thread on her cream sweater, picked up the porcelain bowl of soup, and walked toward the microwave to reheat it. by the time the back door clicked open, the kitchen was filled with the rhythmic, domestic hum of the appliance and the rich scent of leeks.

"oh, it smells wonderful in here!" eleanor hollis stepped into the mudroom, unpinning her sunday hat. her eyes instantly brightened as she spotted the visitor. "billie, dear! what a lovely surprise."

"hi, mrs. hollis," billie said, turning with a warm, easy smile that didn't reach her eyes. though eleanor would never notice. "my mom sent me over with some soup when we heard evangeline was under the weather. i wanted to make sure she actually ate something before the day got away from us."

richard hollis followed his wife, his heavy leather bible tucked under his arm. he offered billie a firm, appreciative nod. "that’s incredibly kind of you, billie. your family is always the first to show up when someone’s in need. how is she doing?"

"she's handling it," billie replied, her voice smooth as silk. she set the warm bowl back down on the island, right in front of evangeline. "though i think the light from the window is still bothering her a bit. she’s been awfully quiet."

evangeline felt the weight of three pairs of eyes on her. her father’s were filled with gentle, oblivious concern. her mother’s with approval. and billie’s translucent blue gaze was a sharp, warning blade.

"i'm fine, dad," evangeline managed to say, her throat tight. she forced a small, fragile smile. "the aspirin helped."

"well, sit, sit," eleanor insisted, bustling over to the counter to inspect the spread. "richard, grab the bread knife. billie, you’ll stay for a bite, won't you? we have mrs. gable’s casserole now, too. there’s more than enough."

"oh, i wouldn't want to intrude on family lunch," billie said, though she didn’t make a single move toward the door. instead, she leaned her hips against the counter, casually crossing her ankles. "but i suppose i can stay for a few minutes while evangeline finishes her soup. i want to make sure she actually swallows a spoonful. she’s been playing with her food."

the four of them gathered around the kitchen island. the atmosphere was thick with a suffocating duality. to richard and eleanor, it was a wholesome sunday afternoon. to evangeline, it was a minefield.

every time richard spoke, praising the choir’s performance from that morning, billie would nod respectfully, then shift her gaze across the marble. her eyes would lock onto evangeline’s face, tracking the slight tremor in evangeline's fingers, the way her collarbone jumped whenever the front door rattled in the wind, the absolute stillness of her spoon. billie was cataloging every single symptom of evangeline’s terror.

"you really missed a beautiful service, evie," richard said, breaking off a piece of the sourdough bread billie had brought. "the youth choir is finally finding their rhythm. though, your soprano leads are what hold the structure together. isn't that right, billie?"

"absolutely, pastor," billie murmured. she reached out, her long fingers slowly wrapping around her glass of water. as she lifted it to her lips, her eyes trapped evangeline’s over the rim. "evangeline has a very... compelling presence in the front row. the ministry wouldn't be the same without her."

evangeline swallowed hard against the metallic taste of panic. she forced herself to swallow a single sip of the soup, but it felt like lead in her stomach. beneath the table, her knees were pressed tightly together. she knew exactly what billie was doing. billie wasn't leaving. she was stretching the minutes, playing with the boundaries, testing just how much pressure evangeline could take before she cracked in front of her own parents.

"you're not eating much, sweetpea," eleanor noted, frowning slightly at evangeline's nearly full bowl. "is the headache coming back?"

"no," evangeline whispered quickly, her eyes darting to the counter. the choir sheet music was still sitting there, a physical reminder of the world they were supposed to belong to. desperate to change the subject, to find an escape hatch from the stifling kitchen, she blurted out the first logical excuse she could find. "i was actually thinking... since i missed this morning, i should probably head over to the church later. to help organize the choir archives and the rehearsal sheets for the upcoming youth revival. i don't want to fall behind."

eleanor’s expression softened into pride. "oh, aren't you a dutiful girl. but you shouldn't be lifting heavy boxes alone if your head is throbbing." she turned to billie, her hands clapping together. "billie, didn't you say you had the updated itineraries? maybe you could go with her? two sets of hands would make quick work of those old cabinets."

a heavy, loaded silence descended on the kitchen.

evangeline’s breath hitched. she looked up, her eyes wide with a silent, desperate plea. say no. please, god, say no.

billie let the silence stretch for one agonizing second, letting evangeline dangle over the edge of the cliff. then, a slow, terrible coldness settled into her blue eyes, masked by a compliant tilt of her head.

"actually, mrs. hollis, that's a wonderful idea," billie said, her gravelly voice dripping with effortless piety. "i have the afternoon free, and the sanctuary is always nice and quiet on sunday late afternoons. it'll be good for her headache."

richard smiled, completely satisfied. "that settles it then. fellowship and service. truly, we are blessed to have such dedicated young leaders."

across the table, billie’s gaze dropped to evangeline’s lap, where her hands were still hidden, before rising to lock onto her eyes one last time. the message was loud and clear: the game wasn't over. it was just moving back to the church.

the afternoon sun cut through the tall, arched windows of the sanctuary, casting long, geometric blocks of amber and dusty gold across the rows of empty pews. it was entirely different from the heavy, suffocating dark of the night before. the air was quieter now, smelling less like the sharp panic of secrets and more like old cedar, floor wax, and the faint, sweet residue of morning incense.

evangeline carried the first stack of heavy, faded green hymnals down the aisle, her chin propped against the top cover to keep the pile steady. her heart was still beating at a slightly elevated pace, but the paralyzing terror from lunch had dulled into a restless, hyper aware energy.

behind her, the heavy oak doors of the sanctuary creaked open.

billie strolled in, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her dark trousers. she had left her car keys on the back table, the metal jingling loudly in the vast, empty space. she wasn't rushing. she looked completely unbothered, her translucent blue eyes scanning the sunlit altar with a lazy sort of curiosity.

"you're late," evangeline said, her voice echoing slightly against the high ceiling. she carefully lowered the hymnals onto the wide bottom shelf of the choir cart. "my dad said the youth revival sheets needed to be sorted by alphabetical order and chronological date before the evening deacon meeting."

"sounds like your dad says a lot of things." billie said casually, walking over to the front row. "i stopped at the gas station." she didn't have a stack of papers or an itinerary folder. instead, she dropped onto one of the long wooden pews, completely at ease, and swung her legs up. she lay flat on her back, using her hands as a pillow behind her head, staring up at the intricate wooden rafters. "and i'm not late, ev. the sun is still up."

evangeline let out a small, sharp breath through her nose, turning back to the storage cabinet. "some of us actually care about doing a good job. if these aren't organized, the soprano section is going to be singing from the wrong liturgy next sunday."

"let them," billie murmured, her eyes tracking a speck of dust floating through a beam of sunlight. "it would give the congregation something to actually focus on instead of your father's third point about tithing."

"billie!" evangeline snapped, though she kept her voice low out of habit. she hauled out a cardboard box labeled easter liturgy 2024 and set it on the floor with a heavy thud. she knelt beside it, her fingers immediately sorting through the wrinkled, dog eared sheets of music.

for several minutes, the only sound in the sanctuary was the dry rasp of paper and the occasional creak of the old wood as billie shifted her weight on the pew. it was a strange, suspended kind of quiet. there was no pressure here, no parents watching, no lingering threat of a ringing phone.

"your handwriting is completely unreadable, by the way," evangeline muttered, pulling out a master schedule sheet with aggressive, sweeping scrawls across the margins. she held it up toward the ceiling, squinting at the ink. "what does this even say? 'kyrie' or 'keep practicing'?"

billie didn't move from her horizontal position, but a lazy smirk touched her lips. "it says 'kyrie.' it’s cursive, evangeline. they teach it in third grade. maybe you skipped that day to practice your posture."

"it’s not cursive, it’s a medical malpractice suit," evangeline countered, tossing the paper into the 'to be sorted' pile. "there's a difference. people actually need to read this during a performance. if sarah evans sings a flat because you can't form a proper symbol, the whole alto section goes down."

"sarah evans sings flat anyway," billie pointed out casually, leaning her hip against the metal cabinet. "with or without my handwriting."

evangeline opened her mouth to defend the girl, but the sheer accuracy of the statement caught her off guard. she rolled her eyes, but she felt a small, stubborn knot in her chest loosen. she didn't reply, focusing instead on a stack of older choral arrangements. she was meticulously aligning the edges of every sheet, tapping them against her knee until they formed a perfect, seamless block of paper.

from the pew, billie tilted her head, her blue eyes sliding down to watch evangeline’s hands. "you're doing it again."

"doing what?"

"the obsessive tapping," billie said, gesturing faintly with one hand. "you've lined up that specific stack three times. the paper isn't going to grow legs and run away if one corner is half a millimeter out of place."

"it looks neat," evangeline said defensively, her cheeks warming slightly. "if it's neat, people respect the music. if people respect the music, they sing better."

"spoken like a true perfectionist," billie huffed, rolling onto her side to face the aisle, propping her head up with her elbow. "you think if you control every single piece of paper in this building, nobody will notice the mess inside your head?"

evangeline paused, her thumb resting on the edge of a hymn sheet. she looked over at billie, who was watching her with a completely unreadable expression, intensely observant.

"i don't have a mess in my head," evangeline said softly.

"right," billie said, standing up from the pew with a fluid, easy grace. she stretched her arms above her head, the cream knit of her sweater pulling tight across her shoulders. "and i’m a candidate for sainthood."

instead of helping with the boxes, billie wandered over to the back corner of the sanctuary, near the glass fronted donation cabinets and the hospitality table where the morning coffee urns usually sat. evangeline walked over slowly, standing over her.

"you are the laziest volunteer my mother has ever recruited," evangeline said, crossing her arms as she watched her plot.

a second later, a sharp, plastic crinkling sound echoed through the quiet room.

"billie!" evangeline hissed, turning completely around.

billie was currently standing by the children's sunday school basket, her fingers fishing through a plastic tub of hard candies, the ones wrapped like little fruits that old ladies always kept in their purses. she popped one into her mouth, completely unbothered, and stuffed a few more into her trouser pocket.

"those are for the primary class rewards," evangeline said, horrified but struggling to keep her face stern. "you're stealing from six year olds."

"they have plenty," billie mumbled around the candy, walking back down the aisle with a slow, rhythmic stride. she stopped right above evangeline, looking down at the scattered boxes. "besides, mrs. gable buys these in bulk from the warehouse store. the church budget can survive a few missing pieces."

"here," billie murmured, picking out a green apple flavored candy and holding it out between her long fingers. "eat it. your blood sugar is probably low from pretending to have a migraine all morning."

a small, helpless sound escaped evangeline’s throat. she tried to choke it back, to maintain her stern, preacher’s daughter frown, but a sudden, genuine laugh slipped past her lips. it was a short, bright sound that echoed softly against the high ceilings of the church.

"you're going to hell," evangeline whispered, her shoulders shaking slightly as she smiled, a real, radiant expression that completely transformed her tired face. "directly to hell."

billie didn't answer right away.

the casual, teasing atmosphere in the room instantly froze, but not with panic. billie’s fingers remained static, holding the candy, but her blue eyes locked onto evangeline’s face. the slight smirk on billie's lips faded, replaced by an intense, unblinking stillness. she stared at evangeline’s smile. at the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, at the genuine, bright warmth that she had been hiding behind layers of fear all day.

billie didn't move. she didn't blink. she just stared at evangeline for a second too long, her gaze dropping to the curve of evangeline's lips before rising back to her eyes with a heavy, unyielding weight.

evangeline’s breath caught, her heart giving a strange, unfamiliar flutter that had nothing to do with fear.

"what?" evangeline whispered, her fingers tightening on the cardboard box.

billie blinked, the rigid, detached shield instantly snapping back into place over her features so fast it was almost dizzying. she tossed the candy wrapper into a nearby wastebasket and turned back toward the choir cart, her voice returning to its regular, flat drone.

"nothing," billie said smoothly, picking up a stray folder of sheet music from the pew. "your teeth are crooked when you laugh. you should stick to the fake smile."

"they are not crooked!" evangeline protested, her face turning crimson as she scrambled up from the floor, her momentary vulnerability hardening back into defensive irritation. "i had braces for two years!"

"the orthodontist cheated your dad," billie replied, not looking back as she carried the folder toward the organ console. "we should ask for a refund from the church tithe."

evangeline marched after her, her arms crossed, completely forgetting about the alphabetical order of the youth revival sheets. for the next hour, the bickering continued quiet, sharp, and entirely grounded in the mundane reality of two people who shared a space they were both trying to survive. they argued over the tempo markings on an old bach piece, they disputed whether the blue or purple ribbons should be used for the altar decorations, and at one point, evangeline physically snatched a red marker out of billie's hand before she could draw a mustache on the choir director's portrait in the back hallway.

the easy back and forth they had built over the last hour shattered with the heavy, metallic clatter of the side sanctuary doors swinging open.

evangeline’s head snapped toward the sound, her posture instantly going rigid. the domestic warmth of the afternoon light felt suddenly cold as voices drifted down the side hallway. bright, casual, and painfully familiar.

"i told you the van keys were on the hook, caleb," a girl’s voice laughed.

it was a handful of the youth group leaders and early choir members, arriving a few hours ahead of schedule to set up the folding tables for the revival fellowship.

beside evangeline, billie’s transition was seamless, almost terrifyingly so. she didn't drop her hands or startle. she simply smoothed down the cuffs of her cream sweater, tilted her chin up into that familiar, pleasant angle, and took a deliberate half step away from evangeline’s immediate space. the comfortable, messy reality of their bickering evaporated, replaced by the perfect, sweet natured church girl the congregation expected.

"oh, hey guys!" caleb, a college aged volunteer with messy brown hair and a permanent easy smile, called out as he carried a stack of wire table legs into the nave. "didn't expect anyone to be in here yet. thought you were out with a migraine, evie?"

"i was," evangeline said, her voice sounding a little too thin to her own ears. she smoothed her hands over her t-shirt. "but it cleared up. i wanted to get a head start on the revival music."

"always working," caleb smiled, setting the heavy wire frames down with a loud clang before walking over to the bottom of the altar steps. he looked up at her, his eyes warm and entirely open. "your dad was pretty worried this morning. glad you're feeling better. the front row would've looked empty without you."

"thanks, caleb," evangeline murmured, a genuine, small flush hitting her cheeks from the unexpected compliment.

"seriously, we need you on that soprano lead for wednesday," caleb continued, stepping a bit closer. he reached out, his hand casually and briefly touching the crook of evangeline’s elbow. a friendly, completely innocent gesture of comfort meant to show solidarity. "we’d be a mess without—"

"the soprano section is actually ahead of schedule, caleb."

the interruption wasn't loud. it wasn't aggressive. but billie’s voice cut into the conversation with a sudden, low sharpness that made the air in the immediate radius feel noticeably tight.

caleb paused, his hand dropping from evangeline's arm as he looked over at billie.

billie hadn't moved drastically. she was still leaning against the edge of the organ console, her posture relaxed, but her translucent blue eyes were fixed entirely on caleb. there was a cold, clinical focus in her gaze that hadn't been there a second ago.

"we've already mapped out the entire itinerary for the revival week," billie continued, stepping forward with a slow, deliberate stride that effectively placed her directly between caleb and evangeline's side. she didn't look at evangeline. her eyes stayed locked on the boy. "the logistics are handled. evangeline just needs to focus on her throat, not lifting boxes or worrying about table setups."

"oh. right. sure," caleb blinked, looking a little thrown by the sudden intensity of billie's tone, though he quickly shrugged it off with his usual good nature. "just saying we're glad she's back. you guys need any help with the heavy cabinets in the back room?"

"no," billie said. the syllable was too quick, a flat, unyielding wall. she picked up the master schedule sheet evangeline had been working on, tapping the edges against the wood with a rhythmic, hard snap that sounded exactly like evangeline's own habit from earlier. "we have a specific system. it’s better if people don't mess with the files."

"alright, alright, loud and clear," caleb raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing lightly. "i'll leave the experts to it. see you guys at five." he turned and walked back toward the side doors where the other volunteers were unloading.

evangeline stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the side of billie’s face.

billie didn't seem to realize she had done it. she was already looking down at the schedule sheet in her hands, her jaw tight, her thumb tracing the edge of the paper with an unnecessary, rigid pressure. her shield was back up, but for the first time, it looked like she was hiding from something internal, rather than defending against the outside world.

evangeline swallowed hard, the silence between them suddenly charging with a completely new, terrifying kind of weight.

the evening deacon meeting had run late, and by the time they finally left the church, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the gravel parking lot swallowed in a cool, ink black quiet.

the interior of billie’s car was a familiar sanctuary of shadows. unlike the suffocating, electric panic of the night before, the drive back to the parsonage felt heavy with exhaustion. the hum of the tires against the asphalt was a steady, rhythmic drone that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards, matching the quiet lull of the dashboard lights.

evangeline leaned her head back against the passenger seat, staring out at the blurred silhouettes of the passing trees. the hyper awareness that had kept her spine rigid all day was finally giving way to a bone deep tiredness. her eyelids fluttered, heavy and unyielding. she didn't mean to close them, but the steady warmth of the car's heater and the faint, woody scent of billie's perfume coaxed her down into the dark.

for ten minutes, the car belonged only to the quiet.

beside her, billie kept her eyes fixed on the empty road ahead, her long fingers loose on the steering wheel. the regular, soft cadence of evangeline’s breathing filled the small cabin. slow, even, and entirely defenseless.

at a red light, billie finally turned her head.

without the sharp, defensive glare of her hazel eyes or the careful mask of the preacher’s daughter, evangeline looked strikingly fragile in the dim glow of the console. a stray curl had fallen across her cheek, rising and falling slightly with each breath. billie’s gaze lingered on her, tracing the soft line of her jaw and the complete stillness of her hands, which were uncurled and relaxed in her lap. there was no audience here. no congregation to play for, just a girl fast asleep in the passenger seat. billie's jaw tightened slightly, her fingers gripping the steering wheel a fraction tighter as she looked away, her face retreating into the shadows as the light turned green.

the car slowed to a smooth stop at the front curb of the parsonage, the engine dropping into a quiet idle under the old oak tree.

evangeline blinked her eyes open, the sudden absence of motion pulling her out of the haze. she sat up quickly, her heart giving a brief, disoriented thud as she realized she had drifted off. she looked out the window at her dark house, then turned to look at billie.

the warmth from the drive was gone.

billie’s jaw tightened, and the rigid, detached mask snapped back into place so fast it was almost chilling. she looked straight ahead through the windshield, her fingers tapping a slow, careless beat against the leather wheel.

"good to know you're alive," billie said, her gravelly voice completely flat, hiding whatever had just been in her face under a layer of cold indifference.

evangeline cleared her throat, her heart doing a strange, muted thud against her ribs. she pulled her sweater tighter around herself, reaching for the door handle. "thanks for the ride, billie."

"don't worry about it," billie murmured, not turning her head as evangeline stepped out into the cool night air.

the car pulled away from the curb before evangeline even reached the porch steps, its tail lights disappearing into the dark.

inside, the parsonage was quiet, her parents already asleep after the long deacon meeting. evangeline tiptoed up the stairs, her feet silent on the old carpet, and slipped into the sanctuary of her own bedroom. she didn't turn on the overhead light. she just wanted to crawl under her comforter and let the day finally end.

she walked over to her bed and pulled back the heavy quilt. as she went to fluff her pillow, her fingers brushed against something unusually soft hidden underneath.

evangeline paused. she reached beneath the cotton pillowcase and pulled the object out into the dim moonlight filtering through her window.

it was the small, crumpled piece lace.

only, it wasn't crumpled anymore. the delicate fabric had been smoothed out, the torn edges tucked inward, and the entire thing was folded neatly into a perfect, precise little square. no note. no nothing. just a quiet, careful return of her property, hidden away where only she would find it.

© verysweetly | all rights reserved. ♰

[verysweetly]

ℋer greatest project ₊ ⊹ 𝟐 ♰ [b.e]

⟢ previous , masterlist

summary : evangeline tries to play hard to get and enforce some boundaries after the vestry incident, but billie has other plans. she literally shows up at the parsonage while eva’s parents are at church, bringing "get well soon" soup as the ultimate alibi, along with the lace underwear eva left behind.

wc : 5,2k words.

cw : extreme tension, mind games / manipulation, borderline blackmail (but make it psychological), heavily implied past smut, major risk of exposure / getting caught, religious guilt & anxiety.

evangeline is staring at her ceiling, trying to breathe, when the first text comes in from an unrecognized number.

[[phone]] 6:02am : the wood in the third row still smells like your perfume.

her heart stops. she doesn't need a name to know who it is. the specific mention of the ‘third row’ instantly flashes the memory of the cold choir pews into her mind. she chooses to leave it on read, gripping her blankets, desperately trying to play hard to get and enforce her boundary from the night before.

an hour later, the house is dead silent. evangeline’s parents have already left for the early morning prayer service. a service evangeline feigned a headache to skip. then, the unknown number lights up her screen again. billie is sitting in the very church evangeline is avoiding, and she just found the ultimate leverage.

[[phone]] 7:14am : your dad just asked the congregation to pray for your headache. cute.

[[phone]] 7:15am : too bad you missed morning prayer, ev.

[[phone]] 7:15am : if you were here, you would've noticed your lace underwear still shoved under the hymnal rack.

evangeline’s thumb hovers over the glass screen, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. she doesn't type a reply. she can’t bring herself to do it. to reply would be to acknowledge the sheer hold billie has over her, to admit that a single text message could reduce her to a shaking, defensive mess in the middle of her own bed. instead, she tosses the phone face down onto the mattress, burying her face in her pillow, trying to swallow the sudden, metallic taste of panic rising in her throat.

the silence of the parsonage stretches out, vast and suffocating. without her parents' quiet chatter or the soft clinking of breakfast dishes downstairs, the house feels less like a home and more like a waiting room. she counts the minutes by the shifting patterns of gray morning light on her wallpaper. ten minutes. twenty. a half hour passes, and just when her breathing begins to settle into something resembling a normal rhythm, a low, distinct engine note vibrates through the floorboards.

it isn't her father’s rusted truck. it’s a smooth, quiet purr that stops right outside the front curb.

evangeline throws off her blankets, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor as she rushes to the window, pulling the sheer curtain back just an inch. billie’s car is idling in the shadows of the old oak tree. the driver’s side door swings open, and billie steps out.

she isn't wearing the sharp, structured black wool blazer from the night before. today, she looks almost aggressively soft. she wears an oversized, cream colored knit sweater that hangs loosely off her shoulders, paired with dark trousers and simple sneakers. in her arms, she carries a paper grocery bag, cradling it against her chest. to anyone looking through a window, she looks like the picture perfect image of a thoughtful church member coming to check on a sick friend.

evangeline doesn't wait for the doorbell to ring. terrified that the sound will echo through the neighborhood, she bolts down the stairs, her breath hitching in her chest as she reaches the front door and yanks it open just as billie steps onto the porch.

"what are you doing here?" evangeline whispers, her voice tight, her hand gripping the edge of the door like a shield.

billie doesn't answer right away. she looks evangeline up and down, her translucent blue eyes taking in the messy, unbrushed curls and the oversized t-shirt evangeline had thrown on. a small, unreadable expression flickers across billie's face, not quite a smirk, but a quiet, satisfied acknowledgment of evangeline's disheveled state.

"your dad said you were dying of a migraine," billie says, her voice carrying that effortless, casual warmth she uses when she’s acting. she lifts the paper bag slightly. "my mom made a massive batch of potato leek soup yesterday. i told her i’d bring some over, along with the updated choir itinerary and the sheet music for next month. you know, so you don't fall behind."

"you shouldn't be here, billie. my parents—"

"are currently sitting in the fellowship hall across town, listening to the deacon report," billie interrupts smoothly, stepping forward. she doesn't push her way in roughly; she just moves with a quiet confidence that forces evangeline to step back to avoid bumping into her. "relax, ev. i’m just being neighborly."

billie steps into the entryway, the front door clicking shut behind her. instantly, the avenue of the parsonage old paper, lavender lemon cleaner, and filtered sunlight is invaded by the faint, woody trail of billie’s perfume. it’s a sensory reminder of the dark car, of the cold wood of the choir pews, and the absolute lack of control evangeline had only hours prior.

instead of staying in the hallway, billie walks straight toward the kitchen as if she owns the place. evangeline follows her, her hands nervously tracing the hem of her oversized t-shirt. she watches as billie systematically unloads the paper bag onto the kitchen island. there’s a glass container of thick soup, a small loaf of sourdough bread wrapped in brown paper, a neatly organized folder of sheet music, and a container of high end herbal tea.

"you brought all this just to make an appearance?" evangeline asks, leaning against the counter, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

"i told you, my mom made too much," billie says casually. she sets the empty paper bag aside and leans against the opposite side of the island, mirroring evangeline’s posture. she looks completely at ease, her long fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against the marble countertop.

for a long moment, neither of them speaks. the silence in the kitchen stretches out, thick with a strange, heavy tension. it isn't the electric, predatory panic of the night before, nor is it the warm comfort of a friendship. it’s a heavy, unyielding awkwardness. they are two people who crossed a major line less than twelve hours ago, yet they are currently standing in a bright, sunlit kitchen talking about potato leek soup.

evangeline keeps her eyes fixed on the glass container of soup, refusing to meet billie’s gaze. she’s hyper-aware of her own body, of the slight ache in her muscles, and the fact that she is currently missing a vital piece of her wardrobe.

"where is it?" evangeline finaly asks, her voice dropping to a quiet, fragile murmur.

billie doesn't pretend to misunderstand. she reaches into the deep pocket of her trousers, her movements slow and clinical. when she pulls her hand out, a small, crumpled piece of cream-colored lace is nestled in her palm. she doesn't flaunt it or wave it around. she just leaves her hand open on the marble island, letting the delicate fabric rest between them like a silent confession.

the sight of the lace hits evangeline in an instant, the sunlit kitchen vanishes. evangeline is thrown back into the suffocating dark of the vestry, the cold wood pressing into her spine as billie’s rough fingers hook into that very lace, dragging it down her thighs with a sudden, relentless snap. the sharp, metallic tear of a tiny bow yielding to billie’s grip echoes in her ears, with the hot, shallow breath billie had left against her collarbone.

evangeline reaches out to snatch it, but billie’s fingers close over the lace just a second before she can touch it. it isn't a violent movement, just a firm, steady boundary.

"sit down, ev," billie says softly. her voice isn't threatening. it’s flat, without the mocking tone from her text messages.

evangeline swallows hard, her throat dry. she wants to refuse. she wants to demand her property back and point toward the front door. but the sheer presence of billie. the quiet, unbothered weight of her makes evangeline’s knees feel weak. slowly, she pulls out one of the wooden barstools and sits down, her hands tucked securely between her thighs to hide their trembling.

billie moves around the island, pulling up the stool right next to her. she doesn't sit close enough to touch, but close enough that evangeline can feel the subtle shift in the air, the warmth radiating from the heavy knit of billie’s sweater. billie places the crumpled lace on the counter between them, resting her palm flat beside it.

"you look like you think i'm going to ruin your life," billie says, her eyes fixed on the window across the room, watching the sunlight filter through the trees.

"aren't you?" evangeline’s voice is barely a breath. "you're holding my... my clothes hostage. you’re threatening to talk to my father. you're coming into my house when you know i'm trapped here."

billie lets out a slow, deliberate sigh. she turns her head, her icy blue eyes tracing the sharp, tense line of evangeline’s jaw. "i'm not going to tell your dad anything, eva. i’m not an idiot. if i tell him, i lose my spot in the ministry, my parents lose their minds, and this entire town turns into a circus. i like my life exactly how it is."

"then why do you do it?" evangeline turns her head sharply, finally meeting billie’s gaze. there’s a desperate, searching look in her eyes, a longing for some kind of answer that makes sense of the chaos in her chest. "why the texts? why the games? if you don't want to ruin anything, why can't you just leave me alone like i asked?"

billie’s expression remains entirely blank. the clinical distance she maintains is maddening. she doesn't offer a sweet smile. she doesn't reach out to comfort her or pretend there’s a deeper, sentimental connection bleeding through the fabric of their secret. billie is entirely detached from the emotional fallout of what they do. for her, this isn't a grand, tragic romance. it’s a physical reality, a craving that doesn't require poetry or vows.

"because you wanted it just as badly as i did," billie says simply, her voice devoid of malice but entirely blunt. "you can play the innocent preacher’s daughter all you want, sweetheart. you can put on the lace skirts and sit in the front row and sing the hymns until your throat is sore. but we both know what happened on that pew. we both know you didn't push me away. you held onto my shoulders like you were drowning."

evangeline flinches as if struck. she looks down at her own lap, her cheeks burning with a hot blush. the truth of billie's words cuts deeper than any threat. that is the real source of her terror. not that billie will expose her, but that billie knows the dark, hungry truth about what lives beneath evangeline's quiet obedience.

another heavy silence descends upon the kitchen. it lingers, thick and stagnant, but the sharp edge of the panic has shifted into something more domestic. billie breaks the quiet by reaching over and opening the glass container she brought. she grabs a clean porcelain bowl from the drying rack—knowing exactly where evangeline's mother keeps them—and slowly pours the thick, fragrant potato leek soup into it. the rhythmic, heavy dollop of the liquid filling the bowl is the only sound in the room, grounding the bizarre reality of billie playing caretaker in the parsonage.

she pushes the bowl toward evangeline, along with a spoon. "eat. you look pale."

evangeline didn't move to pick up the silver spoon. she just stared at the rich, swirling broth, her fingers curling tightly into the raw hem of her oversized cotton t-shirt, pulling the fabric down as if it could shield her from the piercing weight of billie’s stare.

"i didn't mean to leave it," evangeline murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor tiles. "i was... i wasn't thinking straight last night. you know that."

"clearly." billie let out a short, quiet breath. not quite a laugh, but an amused huff that made evangeline’s chest tighten. "you were too busy trying to pretend you had a spine. you practically tore the door off my car trying to escape, only to leave the most damning piece of evidence behind. it’s sloppy."

"i'm not hungry," evangeline whispered to the steam, ignoring the jibe because processing it meant acknowledging the sheer panic of her midnight retreat. "my stomach is in knots."

"because you're letting your conscience eat you alive," billie said. she didn't sound angry; her tone was completely flat, a calm, chillingly casual contrast to the internal storm tearing through evangeline’s chest. billie leaned forward, her forearms resting on the cool marble counter. the loose, heavy knit of her cream sweater shifted, sliding slightly off one shoulder to reveal the clean, pale line of her collarbone and the silver chain of her cross necklace catching the bright morning sun.

she looked entirely regular. normal. like a girl who belonged in a sunny kitchen on a sunday morning. but when evangeline finally forced her eyes upward, meeting that translucent, icy blue gaze, the illusion shattered. there was nothing domestic in billie's eyes.

"you think too much, ev," billie whispered. the wooden barstool scraped softly against the floorboards as she shifted closer, cutting off the distance between them. the scent of her. that dark, woody perfume mixed with the subtle warmth of the wool sweater suddenly crowded out the aroma of the garlic and leeks.

evangeline’s breath trapped in her throat. she felt completely pinned under that gaze, unable to flinch away as billie slowly reached out. billie’s long, pale fingers slid across the marble, bypassing the soup entirely, until her hand brushed the edge of evangeline's bare knee. the contact was static. a sudden, sharp spark that made evangeline's chest heave with a shallow gasp.

slowly, deliberately, billie’s hand moved upward, her fingers hooking into the hem of the oversized t-shirt, bunching the fabric in her fist just enough to pull evangeline slightly off her balance, drawing her forward.

"you say you want me to leave you alone," billie murmured, her voice dropping into that low, gravelly frequency that seemed to bypass evangeline's ears and settle straight into her bones. she leaned in, her shadow completely eclipsing the sunlight. "but you haven't moved an inch since i walked through that door."

the proximity was dizzying. billie was so close that her breath fanned warm against evangeline's mouth. evangeline’s eyes drifted closed for a fraction of a second, her hands instinctively reaching out, her fingers catching the soft, thick knit of billie’s sleeves, anchoring herself to the very thing that made her feel so dangerous.

for a single, breathless moment, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted entirely out of the light. billie’s gaze dropped, her eyes locking onto evangeline's lips with an unexpected, sudden intensity. her jaw tightened. the clinical, detached shield billie always wore seemed to fracture for a split second, her breathing stuttering as she hovered a mere millimeter away. it was a heavy, loaded hesitation, a rare crack in billie’s perfect control that felt less like a game and more like a real, desperate impulse. her head tilted just a fraction, her lips parting as if she were finally going to cross the one boundary they hadn't touched, to finally take the kiss she had withheld in the dark of the pews.

but just as the tension stretched to an absolute breaking point, billie caught herself. a sharp, rigid restraint locked back into her features. her thumb slid up to press firmly against the side of evangeline's jaw, anchoring her face in place, her grip tightening with a rough, dominant pressure that was entirely non-sentimental. she held her there, her lips brushing the edge of evangeline’s cheek instead, refusing to give in to the urge.

"you're a hypocrite," billie breathed against her skin, her fingers twisting tighter into the cotton shirt at evangeline's shoulder, pulling her close enough that their chests pressed together through the thick wool and thin cotton. "you love the sin just as much as i do."

suddenly, the heavy brass door handle of the front door rattled.

the sound cut through the suffocating heat of the kitchen like a physical blow. evangeline gasped, her eyes flying open as she instantly tried to scramble backward on her stool. but billie’s grip didn't instantly loosen. she held evangeline static for one cruel, terrifying second longer, proving she owned the panic, before finally releasing her fabric and stepping back with fluid, unbothered grace.

"yohoo! evie? sweetheart?"

a bright, warbling voice echoed from the front hallway, followed by the soft thud of rubber-soled church shoes. it isn't evangeline's parents. it’s mrs. gable, the head of the church hospitality team, who always walks into the parsonage without knocking if the door is unlocked.

evangeline’s face went entirely bloodless. she looked at the kitchen island. the sheet music, the open glass container, and most terrifyingly, the small, crumpled piece of cream lace were completely exposed on the white marble.

before evangeline could even form a thought, billie moved.

with blindingly fast, clinical precision, billie slid her hand over the lace, sweeping it off the counter and shoving it deep into her trouser pocket. in the exact same motion, she grabbed the porcelain bowl of soup, adjusted her oversized cream sweater so it sat perfectly on her shoulders, and turned toward the kitchen entrance. the predatory, dark gravity that had just consumed the room vanished instantly.

"oh! hello, mrs. gable," billie said, her voice instantly transforming into that effortless, cheerful, sweet natured tone she used for the congregation. she stepped into the doorway, completely blocking the older woman's view of a disheveled evangeline. "are the services finished already?"

mrs. gable blinked, clutching a foil wrapped casserole dish to her chest, her floral sunday dress rustling. "oh, billie! goodness, you startled me. no, no, the deacons are still arguing about the roof budget. i just slipped out early to bring evie some of my chicken noodle bake. pastor said the poor lamb was upstairs with a terrible migraine."

"that is so thoughtful of you," billie murmured, offering a flawless, dimpled smile that radiated pure, innocent warmth. she gently took the warm casserole from the older woman's hands. "i actually had the exact same thought. my mother sent me over with some potato leek soup and the new choir arrangements so she wouldn't fall behind. i just got her to sit down and try to eat a few bites."

evangeline sat frozen on her stool, her hands trembling so violently she had to tuck them under her thighs. listening to billie lie so seamlessly, so beautifully, right in the middle of her house while a piece of her ruined underwear was buried in billie's pocket, was a whole new kind of vertigo.

"oh, aren't you just an angel, billie," mrs. gable cooed, her eyes crinkling with genuine affection as she patted billie’s knit sleeve. "always looking out for the choir. well, i won't stay and crowd the kitchen. you tell evie to keep those blinds drawn, you hear? see you wednesday, girls!"

"i'll tell her. drive safe, mrs. gable," billie called out sweetly.

the heavy front door clicked shut, and the click of mrs. gable's heels faded down the porch steps.

the moment the gate outside clicked closed, the sweet, angelic facade dropped from billie's face like a discarded mask. the silence that fills the kitchen again feels completely tense, still charged with the lingering electricity of how close they had just come to ruin.

billie doesn't turn around right away. she stands in the doorway for a second, her back to evangeline, taking one slow, deep breath to process the rush of the near miss. when she finally turns, setting mrs. gable’s dish on the counter with a dull thud, her eyes look dark again. the warmth she had just faked is completely gone, replaced by that sharp, serious look.

evangeline sat entirely frozen on her stool, her chest heaving as she tried to draw air into her lungs. the whiplash was staggering. less than a minute ago, billie’s lips had been brushing her cheek, her fingers twisting into her shirt, trapping her in a reckless, desperate impulse. and then, with a single rattle of a doorknob, billie had effortlessly played the saint.

"you're a monster," evangeline whispered, the word slipping out not in anger, but in sheer, terrified awe. her hands were shaking so violently she had to keep them pressed flat between her thighs just to anchor herself. "you didn't even blink. you just... you lied straight to her face."

billie didn't deny it. a slow, faint trace of a smirk touched the corner of her mouth. not the mocking one from her texts, but something private and satisfied. she walked back over to the island, her dark trousers shifting silently, and leaned her hips against the marble directly across from evangeline. she reached into her pocket, her long fingers pulling the small, crumpled piece of cream lace back out.

instead of hiding it away again, billie casually tossed it onto the counter right between them, letting it land over the corner of the choir sheet music.

"i saved your skin, ev," billie murmured, her voice returning to that low, gravelly frequency that made evangeline’s skin prickle. she leaned forward slightly, her icy blue eyes locking onto evangeline's flushed face. "if i had blinked, mrs. gable would be calling your father right now to tell him his daughter is entertaining guests in her underwear. i play the part because it keeps us safe. the question is, can you?"

evangeline couldn't answer. she was hyper aware of the heat still radiating from her own skin where billie had just been pressing against her, hyper aware of the contrast between the holy music and the delicate fabric resting on top of it. the realization settled deep in her chest: billie wasn't just dangerous because of what she did in the dark. she was dangerous because of how perfectly she could survive in the light.

evangeline looks down at the soup, the warmth radiating from the porcelain contrasting with the chill that has settled deep in her bones. she wraps her hands around the bowl,

billie doesn't push for more words. she just sits there, completely comfortable in the quiet, occasionally shifting her weight or looking at the sheet music she brought over. evangeline gradually lets her shoulders drop, the absolute peak of her panic slowly receding into a dull, manageable ache.

there is a strange, unspoken understanding hanging in the air between them. they are trapped in an orbit of their own making neither of them willing to admit that this has crossed a line into something they think about constantly, both of them too stubborn and too guarded to look for a way out.

the quiet is shattered by the sudden, ring of evangeline’s phone on the kitchen island.

both girls blink, the spell instantly broken. evangeline lunges forward, grabbing the phone. the screen displays her father’s contact name.

evangeline looks up at billie, her eyes wide with a renewed flash of panic. billie doesn't move. she just gestures faintly with her chin toward the phone, her face entirely composed, showing no sign of fear or worry.

evangeline slides the bar to answer, bringing the phone to her ear. "hello? dad?"

"hey there, sweetpea!"

the reverend’s voice booms through the line, warm, gentle, and full of life. he doesn't sound like a stern, intimidating authority figure. he sounds like a man who trusts his daughter completely.

"hi, dad," evangeline says, trying desperately to smooth out the tremor in her voice. she clears her throat, leaning back against the barstool, consciously avoiding billie’s unblinking stare. "how... how was the service?"

"oh, it was wonderful, evie. the choir sounded beautiful, though we definitely missed your voice up there," her father says, his tone dripping with genuine concern. "your mother and i have been worrying about you all morning. how is that head of yours feeling? did you manage to get any sleep?"

"a little bit," evangeline lies, her eyes dropping to the marble counter, staring right at the cream colored lace sitting just inches from billie's hand. "i took some aspirin. the throbbing is starting to go away."

"oh, thank goodness. we’ve been praying for you, sweetheart," he says with a soft, bright chuckle. "listen, the fellowship hour just wrapped up a bit early. your mother and i just got into the truck. we’re on our way home right now. we should be there in about ten minutes."

evangeline’s entire body goes rigid. ten minutes.

"ten minutes?" she repeats, her voice accidentally rising a fraction of an octave.

"yep! we're just passing the old mill road now," her father says, completely oblivious to the situation. "your mother wants to stop by the market real quick, but we won't be long. see you soon, honey."

"alright, dad. see you soon."

the line clicks dead.

evangeline drops the phone onto the counter, her hands tense. she stands up from the stool so fast it makes a loud scraping sound against the tile floor.

"they're ten minutes away, billie. ten minutes," evangeline chokes out, her voice rising in a ragged panic as she points toward the mudroom. "you have to leave through the back door. cut through the orchard path right now. if they pass your car on the main road—"

"they won't pass my car because i'm not moving it," billie says smoothly. she stays seated on her stool, totally relaxed, her long fingers laced over her knee. her complete lack of worry is incredibly annoying.

"think about it, eva. mrs. gable is driving back toward the church right now. if my car speeds past your parents on the road, or if they come home to an empty house after she told them i was taking care of you, it looks suspicious. it looks guilty. a girl dropping off soup for a sick friend doesn't sprint out the back door the second the pastor says he's coming home."

billie’s voice is flat, smooth, and level. she doesn't rise from her stool in a rush. instead, she deliberately turns her focus back to the kitchen island, her fingers moving over the marble counter. with chilling efficiency, she picks up the small, crumpled piece of evidence that had been sitting on the sheet music. without a single word, she steps close to evangeline, so close the heavy wool of her cream sweater brushes the front of evangeline's oversized t-shirt, and slides the fabric deep into the front pocket of her own trousers.

"we are staying," billie says, her icy blue eyes locking onto evangeline's panicked face. "we are going to sit here, act normal, and wait until your parents arrive and settle in. that is the only way this works."

"are you insane?" evangeline’s voice cracks, her hands hovering near billie’s shoulders, wanting to physically shove her toward the mudroom but too paralyzed by the proximity to make the contact. "you want to be sitting in my kitchen when my father walks through that door? after last night? i can’t look him in the eye with you in the room, billie. please."

"you can, and you will," billie murmurs, entirely detached from evangeline's emotional spiral. her competence under pressure is chilling. she doesn't offer comfort, nor does she validate the terror sweating through evangeline’s palms. instead, she steps past her, instantly acting like the perfect church girl again.

with easy practiced movements, billie starts straightening up the kitchen island. she neatly lines up the edges of the choir papers, places the loaf of bread parallel to the folder, and moves mrs. gable’s dish to the exact center of the counter. she looks like the definition of a helpful, nice neighbor. the complete normalness of what she’s doing makes the secret reality underneath feel twice as loud.

"fix your shirt," billie commands quietly, not looking up as she sets a clean glass of water next to the porcelain bowl of soup.

evangeline’s fingers fly to her collar, tugging the oversized t-shirt straight, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"good," billie whispers. her fingers catch slightly on the edge of the counter, a fraction of a second out of rhythm. for a brief flash, billie’s eyes dart toward the window, her jaw tightening as she looks down the empty road. it’s a tiny, sudden fracture in her perfect shield. a sudden reminder that billie isn't entirely untouchable, that she has her own family's wrath to fear if this fragile illusion shatters.

the moment passes instantly, and billie locks the detached mask back into place. "now, when they walk in, you are going to smile. you are going to thank me for the soup. i am going to stay for exactly five minutes to greet your mother, and then i am going to politely decline lunch because i need to help my own family. easy. got it?"

evangeline nods weakly, her back pressing against the edge of the counter. she looks around her kitchen, at the neatly stacked papers, the warm soup, the domestic stillness of the parsonage, and a dark, profound realization settles deep into her bones.

billie isn't just escaping the consequences of what they did on the choir pews. she isn't hiding from the danger. with terrifying precision, billie is actively controlling it. she is stepping directly into the light, using the very innocence of the parsonage to paint over the dark, hungry truth of the night before, completely rewriting how the world will see them before her parents even pull into the driveway.

© verysweetly | all rights reserved. ♰

[verysweetly]

someone please bully me into finishing chapter two. im entirely serious. do not let me perceive peace until its done ⚠️⚠️