Worry Rock - Chapter Three.
Title: Worry Rock - Chapter Three
Author: Rebecka
Pairing: young!(Billie Joe/John, Billie Joe/Tre)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Everybody in this story belong to themselves and I’m just using them for my own guilty pleasure, for entertainment only and completely without permission. I’m not making any profit out of it. Even though there are a lot of real facts in this story, remember that it is still fiction and I’m not saying that anything of this is true.
Word Count: 2 651 words.
Notes: It takes place in the formation and beginning of Green Day’s career. Billie Joe is dating John (Al Sobrante) when said drummer leaves the band to go to college. Will Billie let their new drummer Tre in? This story is told from Tre’s Point of View. (For a more detailed ‘Notes’ and ‘Dedication’, go to the Prologue.)
Dedication: This is dedicated to Tracy and Barb.
Visual Aids: Book Mobile Gangsters.
| Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two |
Worry Rock - Chapter Three
--
”So?” Billie had blurted out, his hands still clutching my sweaty biceps and seemingly holding on like he didn’t want to let go of me. I hadn’t been able to move, but Mike had looked at me with this stare that had told me to just back off for a while, that I somehow was going to get what I wanted if I just waited.
“So?! Billie, come on! You’re in here, making out with another dude! John’s royally pissed,” Mike had laid out, flailing a little at the last part.
Billie had turned to look at the floor for a moment, as if to clear his thoughts or some shit like that. “He’s pissed?”
“Isn’t he always?” I’d said, holding back a slight snort as Mike’s face had broken out in a smile. Billie, on the other hand, had turned to me with a face all but amused, and my smile had disappeared. “Sorry.”
“Billie, seriously, you need to clear this shit up,” Mike had said, and I’d watched as Billie had gotten up and walked over to him by the door. There, he had turned back to me and sort of just shaken his head, and I had no idea what it’d meant, but I’d suddenly felt worried.
Then he’d simply walked out of there and Mike had shut the door behind him, leaving him and me alone with no chance of overhearing what the two said outside.
Both of us had sat in complete silence as we’d waited for Billie to come back, and even my dad sat there, rolling his thumbs, humming quietly and annoyingly to himself. And when Billie finally had come back inside, he hadn’t even looked at me.
I hadn’t known whether to be sad or mad or just laugh him right in the face, because my stomach kept on doing these flips as if it knew that something bad was going on, but my brain just didn’t pay attention.
My heart had been pounding too fast to get broken, and somewhere deep inside of me there had been this aching feeling, like when you’ve worked so hard with something and you finally manage to finish it, but then realise that you’ve been working on the wrong thing and your whole self just hurt in frustration. That was it! I’d been frustrated. I’d needed an answer, and I’d needed it right then and there.
But Billie hadn’t coped, he hadn’t turned to me and gone “Tre, I just dumped the guy - let’s get dirty” or anything, and really, I’d been fucking disappointed.
Anyway, we’d driven away from the gig in Tampa, leaving the memories behind and it’d felt like I should’ve forgotten about them. But I hadn’t. I wouldn’t.
Days had gone on with just simple shows, nothing special, no attempts from any of us to try and work it out. Some times, I’d sneaked out the bus at night and just fucking cried on my own in the dark, because I could never show them that. I couldn’t show Billie that I was like a girl around him.
But I couldn’t help it - he’d been my first real love.
But then there had been that time we’d stopped by the road to sleep and rest for a day, and I’d woken up all alone in the bus, just hearing Mike’s voice mumbling right outside. When I’d stepped out and found him and dad sitting on the grass, watching the road a few feet away, I’d suddenly felt a little, I don’t know, worried?
“Where’s Billie?” I’d asked, and Mike had looked up at me like I’d just asked him if he’d been an alien or something.
“Ummm, I dunno, man. Probably writing somewhere,” he’d said, though, nodding his head in the direction of an old gas station further down the road.
“I’m, uh, gonna go find him. Tell him we’re leaving soon, you know,” I’d answered, not waiting for either one of them to answer.
After walking for a few minutes, I had finally gotten to my destination, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. Everything was old and broken there and glass lay scattered on the ground around me, but I hadn’t wanted to turn back just yet. Somehow, I’d known that he’d been there somewhere.
The smell of old gasoline lingered in the heated air, making it slightly hard to breath, and I coughed a little. Maybe he hadn’t gone there, after all? Maybe it was better to turn around and head back to the car?
Just when I’d been about to turn around, I’d spotted the tiny silhouette of his dark frame, sitting high up on an old bus further down the dead road. Walking closer, I’d looked up at him and shaken my head as I’d seen that he’d been writing, obviously miles away in his own thoughts.
“Billie?” I’d said, catching his attention.
He’d looked up from his notes and frowned when he’d seen that it’d been me down there. “Tre? How d’you find me here?”
I’d scratched my head a little, looking down at the ground before raising my eyes to his again. “I just saw you there, man. Whatcha doin’?”
“Writing,” he’d answered, short and simple and I’d nodded, turning to leave.
“Hey, Tre, do you wanna… come up here?” He’d asked next, sounding small and I’d just smiled then, nodding a little. But then I’d frowned, looking at how high he’d been sitting and knowing that I was about as graceful as a turtle.
“How d’you, uhm, how d’you get up there?”
He looked down at me, and it felt like he’d seen me as this tiny little boy then, probably knowing that I would never get up there if he didn’t help me. So, he’d put his foot down on the side of the broken front window, finding his balance before reaching his hand out for me to grasp. Then he’d taken a strong grip of me, pulling me up with difficulty, struggling to not lose his balance. He was like a cat, I swear.
I was soon standing in the middle of the window, on the tiny little edge that had been shed of all glass. My knees shook slightly and it had been truly embarrassing, if it hadn’t been Billie.
But then a light breeze came to jiggle the bus a little and I’d flailed and lost the grip of his hand.
“Tre! Watch out for the,” I’d heard him blurt out hurriedly, but stopped and grimaced when I’d gripped the side of the window. “Glass.”
No words could explain the sudden pain that’d ran through me. It’d come in bolts, pounding as I’d removed the hand slowly, but not carefully enough and the both of us gasped as we’d heard the glass break under my skin.
The blood had run down my arm as I’d held my hand up to examine it, and I’d felt Billie then, reaching down and using (probably) as much strength he’d had to pull me up on the roof of the bus. And then he’d sat there in front of me, looking at me as I’d desperately tried not to cry because of the sudden the pain.
“Shit, man,” he’d whispered, shocked.
The glass had cut diagonally from the thumb to the ring finger, deep enough to see the bones there and I could feel my heart pound so strong that the beats could be seen up my arm.
“Fuck, Billie, there’s glass in there,” I’d gasped out, holding the hand out nearer to him and he’d taken it and looked closely at it, mumbling something to himself.
“We need to get that shit out, man,” he’d said, and right then, it just didn’t matter - tears were now building up in my eyes.
“Hey, hold on, Tre, we’ll go down to your dad. I’m sure he knows how to do this,” he’d said, reaching up to cup my face a little.
“He already thinks I’m clumsy enough as it is, Bill, please. Take it out,” I’d said and my voice had sounded frustrated and small, and I’m sure he’d understood how terrible fucking scared I’d been.
“Okay, okay, relax, I’ll do it. It might fucking hurt, though, but here it goes,” he’d answered, but hesitating a little and turning to pull up an old, black handkerchief from his pocket, a little dirty from months of being in there, but better than nothing, I’d supposed.
Then he’d taken a hold of my hurting hand, running his fingertips gently back and forth over the back of my thumb, as if to soothe me or something, before reaching down and pulled at the piece of glass that was stuck there.
After that, I’d just closed my eyes as hard as I could’ve possibly done, biting my lip to hold back a scream. But it’d been over quick enough and when I’d felt him pull the whole thing out and then pressed the cloth against the open wound, I’d heard him sigh out in relief.
“Hey,” he’d whispered, reaching up to give my cheek a long, slow stroke. “It’s okay now, it’s all out.”
When I’d opened my eyes and met his, I’d smiled. And for the first time in weeks, he’d smiled back at me. “Thanks,” I’d whispered and he’d nodded.
We’d gone silent for a while after that, just pondering and contemplating what to say next, I’d guessed, and I hadn’t known if I should’ve been the one to start talking. But, I hadn’t have to ponder that for long, because he’d sighed deep and turned to look down at his hands that rested on his lap, before starting.
“I don’t know what to say, Tre. I guess I’m sorry for treating you like a complete stranger for the passed couple of weeks. I’m just a jerk,” he’d said, nodding to himself.
I’d cleared my throat a little, shaking my head. “You’re no jerk. I’m sure you had good reasons for, you know, acting the way you have.”
And then he looked up at me, meeting my eyes dead on, and he’d given me that Billie Joe-look, you know. The one where he sort of smirks and he looks so honest and true that it’s just fucking scary.
“There are no reasons to be a jerk to you, Tre,” he’d said, and my jaw had literally dropped. But then he’d gone silent for another little while, and I didn’t handle silence very well, so I’d started to move a little, scratching my fingers over the wrist just above the wound (that was now fucking pounding, by the way).
“John was my first boyfriend. My first everything. Kiss, handjob, blowjob, fuck, you name it. He was my only one. And somehow, I didn’t want to let go of all that, you know, even though I knew that it wouldn’t be fair. To any of us, you know. Because that was all he was to me. A good fuck.”
“Billie,” I’d said, interrupting him. I had to; I just couldn’t handle hearing about all that.
“Hang on, just… let me explain, okay?” He’d answered and I’d nodded, hoping that he wouldn’t mention any more intimate stuff again. “When he wanted to leave the band, I’d just lost all interest in him, you know. I guess what I fell for was, you know, his musical-side. I really thought he’d been the greatest drummer I’d ever seen. But when he left, he was just nothing, you know. And, it’d been hard, because this band is everything to me.”
Then he’d looked down at his hands again, smiling a little to himself. “Mike came and told me that he’d found you, and he’d been so fucking happy that we just had to bring you down there instantly. And, you know, I’m sorry for acting like a complete jerk back then. I was just really, really mad at him, you know.”
I’d nodded, but I don’t think he’d seen it.
“You have no idea how good you are, Tre. And, I was fucking terrified that you were gonna mess this band up, you know. But, you didn’t and you made us fucking great. And, I’ve fallen for you, but I guess I’m sorta scared. I’m scared for the band, and I’m scared for you at the same time, you know.”
I’d nodded again, and this time I think he saw it. He’d looked up at me and smiled. “But, that day, in Tampa, it’d just been so fucking amazing. Everything had just fallen to place. But then I’d remembered him and that I was still with him, and I just couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that to you, Tre.”
I’d blinked, frowning a bit.
“So, I broke up with the guy, and he went totally crazy on me. And, he told me that you would probably leave the band soon anyway, and that he would be back once he finished college.”
I’d opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“So, I just ignored you and I don’t know why, because that’s the last thing I wanted, you know. But now you’re here and I’ve told you this, and it’s alright to be mad at me. Go ahead, I fucking deserve it.”
He’d let a long, deep breath out, as if he’d been out of air the whole time he’d been talking, and I’d smirked at him and shaken my head.
“I’m not mad at you, I was just confused,” I’d finally said, as if it was all I’d ever wanted to say.
Then he’d smiled a little and I’d seen that Billie I’d fallen in love with some time earlier, young and truthful and so fucking hot, you have no idea. So, I couldn’t resist, I had to do something. Leaning forward and kissing the tip of his nose had seemed about right, and he’d giggled a little (one of those cute little laughs that made me all tingly, you know) and then he’d run his hands up my shoulders and placed them right under my ears.
“I’m sorry,” was the last thing he’d said before he’d closed the gap between our lips and I’d sighed and moaned instantly as I’d felt the tip of his tongue against mine. His lips were soft and warm and our eyes were closed, and I fumbled with the hand that didn’t ache and placed it upon his chest. I’d felt him smile against me, and I’d smiled back, but then he’d gone back to serious and deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and pressing his tongue between my lips.
My hand had moved down to the side of his waist, holding him firmly as he’d wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me closer and whispering my name quietly into my mouth.
The kiss had lasted for minutes, but if you’d asked me, I could’ve kept it going for hours. Days. Weeks. But when we’d leant back and I’d opened my eyes to see his still be closed, I’d felt like I’d been the king of… everything.
But then it’d hit me, I had to tell him. I couldn’t just walk around, knowing that all he knew was lies. “Billie, I have to tell you something,” I’d said, and blushed, damn it!
And, he’d nodded, content or whatever. “I haven’t been, uhm, you know, with,” I’d paused and coughed and blushed some more, but he’d nodded, wanting me to go on. “Uhm, I haven’t been with a lot of girls,” I’d said, dragging the last word out maybe a little too long.
“Oh?” He’d said, raising his eyebrows.
“In fact, I haven’t been with any,” I’d then blurted out, fast enough to make it sound like one long word.
“Oh,” He’d said then, biting his lip a little. “You’re not... into girls at all?”
I’d looked up, straight into his eyes. “No.”
--
To Be Continued.
Author: Rebecka
Pairing: young!(Billie Joe/John, Billie Joe/Tre)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Everybody in this story belong to themselves and I’m just using them for my own guilty pleasure, for entertainment only and completely without permission. I’m not making any profit out of it. Even though there are a lot of real facts in this story, remember that it is still fiction and I’m not saying that anything of this is true.
Word Count: 2 651 words.
Notes: It takes place in the formation and beginning of Green Day’s career. Billie Joe is dating John (Al Sobrante) when said drummer leaves the band to go to college. Will Billie let their new drummer Tre in? This story is told from Tre’s Point of View. (For a more detailed ‘Notes’ and ‘Dedication’, go to the Prologue.)
Dedication: This is dedicated to Tracy and Barb.
Visual Aids: Book Mobile Gangsters.
| Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two |
Worry Rock - Chapter Three
--
”So?” Billie had blurted out, his hands still clutching my sweaty biceps and seemingly holding on like he didn’t want to let go of me. I hadn’t been able to move, but Mike had looked at me with this stare that had told me to just back off for a while, that I somehow was going to get what I wanted if I just waited.
“So?! Billie, come on! You’re in here, making out with another dude! John’s royally pissed,” Mike had laid out, flailing a little at the last part.
Billie had turned to look at the floor for a moment, as if to clear his thoughts or some shit like that. “He’s pissed?”
“Isn’t he always?” I’d said, holding back a slight snort as Mike’s face had broken out in a smile. Billie, on the other hand, had turned to me with a face all but amused, and my smile had disappeared. “Sorry.”
“Billie, seriously, you need to clear this shit up,” Mike had said, and I’d watched as Billie had gotten up and walked over to him by the door. There, he had turned back to me and sort of just shaken his head, and I had no idea what it’d meant, but I’d suddenly felt worried.
Then he’d simply walked out of there and Mike had shut the door behind him, leaving him and me alone with no chance of overhearing what the two said outside.
Both of us had sat in complete silence as we’d waited for Billie to come back, and even my dad sat there, rolling his thumbs, humming quietly and annoyingly to himself. And when Billie finally had come back inside, he hadn’t even looked at me.
I hadn’t known whether to be sad or mad or just laugh him right in the face, because my stomach kept on doing these flips as if it knew that something bad was going on, but my brain just didn’t pay attention.
My heart had been pounding too fast to get broken, and somewhere deep inside of me there had been this aching feeling, like when you’ve worked so hard with something and you finally manage to finish it, but then realise that you’ve been working on the wrong thing and your whole self just hurt in frustration. That was it! I’d been frustrated. I’d needed an answer, and I’d needed it right then and there.
But Billie hadn’t coped, he hadn’t turned to me and gone “Tre, I just dumped the guy - let’s get dirty” or anything, and really, I’d been fucking disappointed.
Anyway, we’d driven away from the gig in Tampa, leaving the memories behind and it’d felt like I should’ve forgotten about them. But I hadn’t. I wouldn’t.
Days had gone on with just simple shows, nothing special, no attempts from any of us to try and work it out. Some times, I’d sneaked out the bus at night and just fucking cried on my own in the dark, because I could never show them that. I couldn’t show Billie that I was like a girl around him.
But I couldn’t help it - he’d been my first real love.
But then there had been that time we’d stopped by the road to sleep and rest for a day, and I’d woken up all alone in the bus, just hearing Mike’s voice mumbling right outside. When I’d stepped out and found him and dad sitting on the grass, watching the road a few feet away, I’d suddenly felt a little, I don’t know, worried?
“Where’s Billie?” I’d asked, and Mike had looked up at me like I’d just asked him if he’d been an alien or something.
“Ummm, I dunno, man. Probably writing somewhere,” he’d said, though, nodding his head in the direction of an old gas station further down the road.
“I’m, uh, gonna go find him. Tell him we’re leaving soon, you know,” I’d answered, not waiting for either one of them to answer.
After walking for a few minutes, I had finally gotten to my destination, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. Everything was old and broken there and glass lay scattered on the ground around me, but I hadn’t wanted to turn back just yet. Somehow, I’d known that he’d been there somewhere.
The smell of old gasoline lingered in the heated air, making it slightly hard to breath, and I coughed a little. Maybe he hadn’t gone there, after all? Maybe it was better to turn around and head back to the car?
Just when I’d been about to turn around, I’d spotted the tiny silhouette of his dark frame, sitting high up on an old bus further down the dead road. Walking closer, I’d looked up at him and shaken my head as I’d seen that he’d been writing, obviously miles away in his own thoughts.
“Billie?” I’d said, catching his attention.
He’d looked up from his notes and frowned when he’d seen that it’d been me down there. “Tre? How d’you find me here?”
I’d scratched my head a little, looking down at the ground before raising my eyes to his again. “I just saw you there, man. Whatcha doin’?”
“Writing,” he’d answered, short and simple and I’d nodded, turning to leave.
“Hey, Tre, do you wanna… come up here?” He’d asked next, sounding small and I’d just smiled then, nodding a little. But then I’d frowned, looking at how high he’d been sitting and knowing that I was about as graceful as a turtle.
“How d’you, uhm, how d’you get up there?”
He looked down at me, and it felt like he’d seen me as this tiny little boy then, probably knowing that I would never get up there if he didn’t help me. So, he’d put his foot down on the side of the broken front window, finding his balance before reaching his hand out for me to grasp. Then he’d taken a strong grip of me, pulling me up with difficulty, struggling to not lose his balance. He was like a cat, I swear.
I was soon standing in the middle of the window, on the tiny little edge that had been shed of all glass. My knees shook slightly and it had been truly embarrassing, if it hadn’t been Billie.
But then a light breeze came to jiggle the bus a little and I’d flailed and lost the grip of his hand.
“Tre! Watch out for the,” I’d heard him blurt out hurriedly, but stopped and grimaced when I’d gripped the side of the window. “Glass.”
No words could explain the sudden pain that’d ran through me. It’d come in bolts, pounding as I’d removed the hand slowly, but not carefully enough and the both of us gasped as we’d heard the glass break under my skin.
The blood had run down my arm as I’d held my hand up to examine it, and I’d felt Billie then, reaching down and using (probably) as much strength he’d had to pull me up on the roof of the bus. And then he’d sat there in front of me, looking at me as I’d desperately tried not to cry because of the sudden the pain.
“Shit, man,” he’d whispered, shocked.
The glass had cut diagonally from the thumb to the ring finger, deep enough to see the bones there and I could feel my heart pound so strong that the beats could be seen up my arm.
“Fuck, Billie, there’s glass in there,” I’d gasped out, holding the hand out nearer to him and he’d taken it and looked closely at it, mumbling something to himself.
“We need to get that shit out, man,” he’d said, and right then, it just didn’t matter - tears were now building up in my eyes.
“Hey, hold on, Tre, we’ll go down to your dad. I’m sure he knows how to do this,” he’d said, reaching up to cup my face a little.
“He already thinks I’m clumsy enough as it is, Bill, please. Take it out,” I’d said and my voice had sounded frustrated and small, and I’m sure he’d understood how terrible fucking scared I’d been.
“Okay, okay, relax, I’ll do it. It might fucking hurt, though, but here it goes,” he’d answered, but hesitating a little and turning to pull up an old, black handkerchief from his pocket, a little dirty from months of being in there, but better than nothing, I’d supposed.
Then he’d taken a hold of my hurting hand, running his fingertips gently back and forth over the back of my thumb, as if to soothe me or something, before reaching down and pulled at the piece of glass that was stuck there.
After that, I’d just closed my eyes as hard as I could’ve possibly done, biting my lip to hold back a scream. But it’d been over quick enough and when I’d felt him pull the whole thing out and then pressed the cloth against the open wound, I’d heard him sigh out in relief.
“Hey,” he’d whispered, reaching up to give my cheek a long, slow stroke. “It’s okay now, it’s all out.”
When I’d opened my eyes and met his, I’d smiled. And for the first time in weeks, he’d smiled back at me. “Thanks,” I’d whispered and he’d nodded.
We’d gone silent for a while after that, just pondering and contemplating what to say next, I’d guessed, and I hadn’t known if I should’ve been the one to start talking. But, I hadn’t have to ponder that for long, because he’d sighed deep and turned to look down at his hands that rested on his lap, before starting.
“I don’t know what to say, Tre. I guess I’m sorry for treating you like a complete stranger for the passed couple of weeks. I’m just a jerk,” he’d said, nodding to himself.
I’d cleared my throat a little, shaking my head. “You’re no jerk. I’m sure you had good reasons for, you know, acting the way you have.”
And then he looked up at me, meeting my eyes dead on, and he’d given me that Billie Joe-look, you know. The one where he sort of smirks and he looks so honest and true that it’s just fucking scary.
“There are no reasons to be a jerk to you, Tre,” he’d said, and my jaw had literally dropped. But then he’d gone silent for another little while, and I didn’t handle silence very well, so I’d started to move a little, scratching my fingers over the wrist just above the wound (that was now fucking pounding, by the way).
“John was my first boyfriend. My first everything. Kiss, handjob, blowjob, fuck, you name it. He was my only one. And somehow, I didn’t want to let go of all that, you know, even though I knew that it wouldn’t be fair. To any of us, you know. Because that was all he was to me. A good fuck.”
“Billie,” I’d said, interrupting him. I had to; I just couldn’t handle hearing about all that.
“Hang on, just… let me explain, okay?” He’d answered and I’d nodded, hoping that he wouldn’t mention any more intimate stuff again. “When he wanted to leave the band, I’d just lost all interest in him, you know. I guess what I fell for was, you know, his musical-side. I really thought he’d been the greatest drummer I’d ever seen. But when he left, he was just nothing, you know. And, it’d been hard, because this band is everything to me.”
Then he’d looked down at his hands again, smiling a little to himself. “Mike came and told me that he’d found you, and he’d been so fucking happy that we just had to bring you down there instantly. And, you know, I’m sorry for acting like a complete jerk back then. I was just really, really mad at him, you know.”
I’d nodded, but I don’t think he’d seen it.
“You have no idea how good you are, Tre. And, I was fucking terrified that you were gonna mess this band up, you know. But, you didn’t and you made us fucking great. And, I’ve fallen for you, but I guess I’m sorta scared. I’m scared for the band, and I’m scared for you at the same time, you know.”
I’d nodded again, and this time I think he saw it. He’d looked up at me and smiled. “But, that day, in Tampa, it’d just been so fucking amazing. Everything had just fallen to place. But then I’d remembered him and that I was still with him, and I just couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that to you, Tre.”
I’d blinked, frowning a bit.
“So, I broke up with the guy, and he went totally crazy on me. And, he told me that you would probably leave the band soon anyway, and that he would be back once he finished college.”
I’d opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“So, I just ignored you and I don’t know why, because that’s the last thing I wanted, you know. But now you’re here and I’ve told you this, and it’s alright to be mad at me. Go ahead, I fucking deserve it.”
He’d let a long, deep breath out, as if he’d been out of air the whole time he’d been talking, and I’d smirked at him and shaken my head.
“I’m not mad at you, I was just confused,” I’d finally said, as if it was all I’d ever wanted to say.
Then he’d smiled a little and I’d seen that Billie I’d fallen in love with some time earlier, young and truthful and so fucking hot, you have no idea. So, I couldn’t resist, I had to do something. Leaning forward and kissing the tip of his nose had seemed about right, and he’d giggled a little (one of those cute little laughs that made me all tingly, you know) and then he’d run his hands up my shoulders and placed them right under my ears.
“I’m sorry,” was the last thing he’d said before he’d closed the gap between our lips and I’d sighed and moaned instantly as I’d felt the tip of his tongue against mine. His lips were soft and warm and our eyes were closed, and I fumbled with the hand that didn’t ache and placed it upon his chest. I’d felt him smile against me, and I’d smiled back, but then he’d gone back to serious and deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and pressing his tongue between my lips.
My hand had moved down to the side of his waist, holding him firmly as he’d wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me closer and whispering my name quietly into my mouth.
The kiss had lasted for minutes, but if you’d asked me, I could’ve kept it going for hours. Days. Weeks. But when we’d leant back and I’d opened my eyes to see his still be closed, I’d felt like I’d been the king of… everything.
But then it’d hit me, I had to tell him. I couldn’t just walk around, knowing that all he knew was lies. “Billie, I have to tell you something,” I’d said, and blushed, damn it!
And, he’d nodded, content or whatever. “I haven’t been, uhm, you know, with,” I’d paused and coughed and blushed some more, but he’d nodded, wanting me to go on. “Uhm, I haven’t been with a lot of girls,” I’d said, dragging the last word out maybe a little too long.
“Oh?” He’d said, raising his eyebrows.
“In fact, I haven’t been with any,” I’d then blurted out, fast enough to make it sound like one long word.
“Oh,” He’d said then, biting his lip a little. “You’re not... into girls at all?”
I’d looked up, straight into his eyes. “No.”
--
To Be Continued.