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

Chapter Twelve

12 | Nadia Spencer

"Hell- would you just hold still?" Billie Joe scowls as he drops my hair and grabs the brush again, brushing it through my hair for the 100th time. I don't have the heart to tell him that I'm not moving and it's just that he's not as good at braiding as he claims. 

He's sat on the bed, while I kneel on the floor between his legs, as apparently that makes it easier for him to braid. I think he's full of shit, because he doesn't seem to have a clue about what he's doing. Nonetheless, I humour him. I haven't anything better to do.

He takes up three sections and starts again. "I have an awards ceremony next week. You want to come?" I furrow my brows at his question, "but what about Madeline?" The thought of him having to shower her in affection for the public eye makes me feel sick. "She's coming. But I thought you could come too, with Ben." It would be nice, Ben would certainly enjoy getting to gawk at different celebrities.

"Maybe, I'll have to ask." There is no point in me asking, of course Benjamin Grover wants to come to an awards ceremony with Green Day. I want to go too, and I couldn't go without him, not when I'm going to have to watch Billie take Madeline's hand and pretend they are happy for a night.

"Sure, I'll message him." I pull out my phone, but Billie drops my hair and takes it from me, placing it down on the bed. His fingers brush mine as he does, I'm sure it's on purpose. It doesn't escape my notice that he always finds excuses to touch me, even if it is just the graze of his knuckles. 

But now he'll have to start all over again. "What did you do that for?" I look back at him and he offers a single shrug. "We're talking. I don't want you on your phone." Fuck, that's hot.

Nothing has really been said about earlier. Other than Ben bringing it up every two seconds. But he's gone home now, and Billie decided he needed to fix my roots. I don't know what to say about it, talking about earlier feels clogged in my throat, like I need to cough to get the words out.

Finally, Billie successfully plaits my hair. "Told you I could do it." He's sounds awfully pleased with himself as he ties off the braid with a hairband. I get up to sit beside him. We sit before a grand window, it's dark out now and stars dot the navy blanket in the sky.

In a slow motion, I drop my head to his shoulder. He traces the length of my nose as he looks out the window, his chest falling in a short sigh. We stay still for a while, I don't think he knows what to do. And then, at last, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, gives me a tight and brief squeeze.

"Everything will work out fine." He whispers, I'm unsure whether he is reassuring me or himself. "I'm going to sort things with Madeline, and then I'll be all yours." He squeezes me again as he turns his head to plant a kiss at my temple. "Until then, you'll be my little secret."

His words never fail to bring a smile to my lips. "What if I decide I don't want to be your secret?"

"You won't." He shrugs, "You're mine, I'll make sure you never want anyone else."

Now I'm grinning. "How do you plan on doing that?"

Quickly, he pushes a hand to my chest so I fall against the bed and pins my wrists. "I'll lock you in the basement," He's hovering over me, his nose so close to mine that if I leaned forwards they would touch. "Or I'll just love the hell out of you. I haven't decided yet."

Dark sooty lashes fan his flushed upper cheeks, framing his bottle-green eyes in a way that makes them even more enchanting. Dimples from his smile. His phone pings, and he lowers his head to press a kiss to my forehead before he lets go of my wrists and lays down beside me. He reaches for his phone, and I'm nosey enough to look at screen when he opens his messages. I don't catch all of them, just the two most recent ones.

Me:

It feels like you're really fucking me over
with this.

Jordan:

Marley's in half an hour

Marley's Pub, I can only assume. Whatever the hell I just read is some weird shit. And a lick of curiosity is begging me to find out what's going on.

Billie has gone stiff, and he doesn't look at me when I ask, "what was that?"

"Nothing, Nadia. You should get some rest." He sits up, and I do too, frowning. His expression is neutral, he still hasn't looked at me. There's no crease at his brows, no pull at his lips, his eyes are blank and his jaw is solemn.

"Billie, what was that? Is everything okay?"

And then he snaps. "Just go! I've told you to go, so go. It's late, I don't want you in my room."

"Right." I mumble, mainly to myself, as I get up off the bed.

"Goodnight, Miss Spencer." I feel tore in half as I walk out of his room.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

"Not wearing that." Ben is being as stubborn as ever. "You can't come to an awards ceremony with Green Day wearing cargos and a t-shirt. You look like a druggie." I lift a suit jacket from one of the hangers. Remind me to never invite Ben to any event, and never to offer to help him pick what he's going to wear. Billie Joe wasn't home this morning, he left money and a note which said:

$250 for yours and Ben's clothes – BJ

Short and sweet. I can't have upset him that much last night; besides, I was so not the one being ridiculous.

Ben takes the jacket and hangs it back up. "Maybe I like looking like a druggie. Nadia, I am a druggie." Well, yes, I know that, Benjamin. "It's just for one night, you can wear your crusty Adidas shoes if you please just find a suit and wear it." I feel like his mother.

We browse the suits. Apparently black is off limits because he's not going to a funeral, a blue suit is something his dad would wear, brown clashes with his eyes.

I lift the brown pants to his face. They don't clash with his eyes. "Brown would be fine." He steps away and shakes his head, his freckled nose scrunching as he eyes the suit. "It looks gross. Not my colour."

"Nads..." He follows behind me as I lead him to a different aisle. "You ever get scared of people taller than you?" I pause and turn to look at him. "What?"

"You heard me."

Sighing, I fold my arms over my chest. "No, Ben, I don't get scared of people taller than me."

"Yeah but like..." He steps towards me and holds my cheeks. "They could just lick the top of your head. Like this..." Ben leans down and I shove at his chest. He lets go of me, but only because he's doubled over and clutching his stomach as he laughs.

Carrying on and leaving the moron to giggle alone, I pick out a white suit jacket. "How about this?" That catches his attention, and he straightens immediately. "With black jeans?"

"White pants." I correct. He scowls, "a t-shirt then."

"Deal."