Flower in the Flame (The Scattered Series - Book #1)

Chapter Seven

7 | Nadia Spencer

Billie is really starting to get on my nerves.

It's the constant mood swings – he's like this hormonal pregnant woman with no ability to regulate her emotions. One minutes he's smiling, chuckling with me over something, and then he goes silent, dead-silent, as though I've just kicked a puppy in front of a car.

After the pool, and the incident with Carter, I showered and changed before going down to sit in the kitchen with Billie. He's an annoying ass who looks at me funny, but he's the most tolerable in this house. Plus, Carter and Madeline have gone out. I've noticed they do that a lot, and I am not complaining. 

"It's raining." He breaks the silence. He's stood before the kitchen window, watching the droplets of rain render the glass a useless blur. The rain hits the window so hard it's almost difficult to hear him.

I look over at him, incredulous, "yeah, no shit."

"Your clothes are on the washing line."

Balls.

I hurry to the front door and shove my feet into Billie's shoes, the ones closest to me. He doesn't move, instead watches me. "Well?" My voice is as frantic as I am as I head towards the back door.

"Well what?"

Pausing, I look back at Billie Joe. "Aren't you going to help?"

He only gives the barest shrug. Asshole.

Leaving the prick to wallow alone in his own self-pity, I swing open the door and run up the garden to the washing line. Unhooking the pegs from the clothes and allowing the cotton to fall into my arms. By the time I've got it all, it's wetter than it was when I got it out the washing machine and the clothes I'm wearing now are thoroughly soaked.

It would've taken me half the time if Billie had bothered to help me, instead he chose to be a Jerk.

I dump the pile of clothes on the kitchen table and slam the back door behind me, shucking off the shoes of Billie's that I wore. "Thanks a lot, asshole." I gather up all the venom possible and pack it into my words. He laughs at me, the vocals silky and smooth.

"You're being dramatic, Nads." He mused, stepping towards me and mussing with my wet hair. Oh my god, I want to knock out his teeth. He's looking down at me with those jade eyes which are filled with a new amusement. I suppose seeing my frenzied hurry has shifted his bad mood. Shame because that has put me in a foul mood.

"Me? Being dramatic? Are you for real?" I don't think I've ever felt a hatred like this before, "You ran out of brandy and gave everyone in this house a hard time."

He scoffs, "that's an exaggeration."

"Then why did Madeline and Carter go out as soon as you started moaning?"

Billie purses his lips. "They were busy."

I open my mouth to spit more belligerence when someone knocks at the door. Sighing, I step away from him to get it. Must be the lipgloss I'd ordered. As quickly as I've stepped backwards, he's caught my wrist, holding it tight. "Get the hell off me." I seethe.

There's the tiniest hint of disapproval etched into the downturn of his lips. His dark, sooty brows are drawn together in a frown. And honestly? I care not for his disapproval and whatever he has to say, I'm cold, and I want to answer this damn door and get in the bath.

Slowly, his eyes roved over me before dipping with purpose to my chest. "You are not answering the door like that."

When I look down, horrified doesn't even begin to explain how I feel. Gaping, wide-eyed, I fold my arms over my torso. The rain has soaked my white shirt thoroughly. The thing is useless, transparent, and through that can the red lace bra I'd bought today be seen.

And to top it off?

Thanks to the cold of the air, and the stupid air conditioning Billie insists he needs on, my nipples are hard and as visible as the horror fixed onto my expression.

My cheeks feel red hot.

"You could have told me sooner!" He lets go of my wrist as I spit the words which are laced with embarrassment.

He lets his arm fall to his side, "Well, now you know, so what's the biggie?" What's the biggie? He cannot be serious. I'm so mad I'm surprised I can even think straight.

"I could just punch you."

"Do it." Challenge is laced in his voice. He thinks I wouldn't. So I do. Or I try.

He catches my wrist swiftly. Slowly, he begins to shake his head, clucking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "There's no need to be like this, Nadia." He leans in close. The cologne which has been sprayed at his neck is strong and smells so so good. "I haven't done anything wrong. You're just embarrassed, and clearly not intellectual enough to express that like a big girl."

Does he like seeing me pissed off?

"Well," I begin, forcing the word out. "Instead of being a dick, you could have offered me your jacket so I could get the door."

"If that's what you want then fine." He shrugs as he pulls off the thin leather jacket that fits him perfectly and drapes it over my shoulders. I grab the sides and tug them close together. He places a hand on the side of my arm and shakes his head once. "You're still not getting the door like that."

"Why the hell not, freak show?" I snap.

His lips curl in the barest smirk, as if he's trying his best to keep his expression neutral. "Because I don't want anyone seeing you like that. Any creep could be at the door."

"I can look after myself," I tell him, but Billie only laughs. "Oh shush, Trouble. Go and run yourself a bath, warm up." He's smiling, his eyes creased in the corners and dimples are dipped in his cheeks. Those damn dimples. There's this joy living in the brightness of his eyes that I don't think I've seen in anyone before and they haven't once dipped to my chest again, instead he studies my face. 

Slowly, I nod, taken aback by the change in his attitude. I'm about to pivot to head upstairs, but he grabs my upper arms, keeping me in my place. "Don't wear that for Carter, Nadia. It would be wasted on him."

I swallow hard against the tension in my throat. He's talking about the bra. Why does he even care?

"I know what you're doing. You're trying to test if he still loves you like he used to. Don't do it, don't go there. You'll only be hurt," His eyebrows are slightly raised as he talks to me, "But you look very gorgeous to me." He tags the end of the sentence with the tiniest smile and steps away to answer the door, leaving me whirling in shock.

That man will be the death of me.