Malware | Billie Eilish

Two

After a long, red-eye flight, we finally landed in Paris. I was beyond ecstatic. Especially since I've never left the country before. And when I finally get the opportunity, it's to fucking France! I really hit the jackpot for my high school senior trip.

"I'm not even tired," Marcus boasts.

"Of course you're not tired. It's 6 PM in LA right now."

"Just get ready for that jet lag, man," Azul chuckles.

"Here's the key," Marcus hands me a keycard for the room. "I'll be there in a second. I have to talk to Azul for bit."

"I wait for you," I offer.

"Nah, it's good. I'll just be a minute, go on up."

I flash him a smile then walk to the elevator. We scored on the top floor, I bet we got the best view of the whole building. I slid the key through the lock and drag my suitcase into the room.

By my surprise, a girl is standing by the side of one of the beds. She's unpacking her suitcase.

"Uh- excuse me. I think you have the wrong room," I tell her. The girl whips her blue hair around abruptly. She stares at me, startled.

It's Billie fucking O'Connell.

"What are you doing in here?" She asks, a bit angry.

"This is my room."

"No," she argues. "This is my room."

"No. It's my room. See?" I hold up my key. "It says room 308 here. You're in the wrong one."

She grabs her key from the bedside table. "Look," she points at the number. "Room 308. I'm sharing this room with Sage."

"No, I'm sharing this room with Marcus."

"Well then someone fucked up the keys!" Billie throws her arms into the air frustrated. "It's fucking late. I don't wanna deal with this right now."

"Yeah, likewise," I grit my teeth. I drop my things and walk out the door.

"Where are you going?!" Billie calls from the room.

"To fix this shit!" I yell back. I hear her mutter curse words before I step into the elevator.

I hurry to the lobby and see Marcus heading my way.

"Woah, what are you doing down here?" He places his hand on my shoulder to slow me down.

"Someone fucked up the rooms, I'm getting a new key," I say.

"What? What happened?"

"Billie O'Connell is making herself at home in our room."

His mouth drops open. "Oh lord, this isn't going to be good," he mumbles.

"One minute," I say then walk to the front desk.

"Excuse me?" I get the attention of the concierge. "I think you gave me the wrong key. Someone else got the same one, who isn't my assigned roommate. I need to switch rooms."

"Oh," the man says with a thick French accident. "Hm. Let me see what I can do for you. What's your name? And the room number?"

"Amira Edwards. Room 308." He begins typing on the desk computer.

I anxiously tap my fingers against the counter.

"Uhhhh," he hesitates.

"Is there a problem?" I ask.

"Yes well, it looks like the name Billie O'Connell is listed as your roommate. This is not the right person, correct?"

"No. My roommate is supposed to be Marcus Ricke. He's right there," I point to him.