Middle Fingers Up // Billy Hargrove x Reader

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑰𝑿𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑵

BILLY'S POV. PROM NIGHT.

Billy wasn't surprised he was able to get a stand-in last minute. He wasn't short of drooling chicks wanting to be hung off his arm like some prized bird. He waited in his car for his date, not wanting to be involved in whatever act he'd have to put on for this girls parents.

And the risk of pictures? Not something he was willing to do. She gets in the car and he drives her to prom, running on autopilot with some bullshit greeting and compliment about her looks to keep her happy. Billy greeted his friends and went to sit down at the table, a fierce scowl slowly becoming a permanent fixture on his expression. 

That is, of course, until the moment he saw you. 

The last time he saw you was from the bottom of the shrub in your front yard after you'd slammed your window down on his fingers. 

You were laughing with Munson while the man pulls you from the table you were sat on and over to the dance floor, swinging you to-and-fro. You looked so elated and happy, giggling in the most adorable way. Billy wished fleetingly that he could make you laugh like that, but for some reason unknown to him, he was only capable of pissing you off.

At first, your attitude had been annoying despite how hot you were. He'd found you irritatingly defensive and loud, so unlike any other girl he'd met before but over time those were the reasons he found himself becoming intrigued by you. 

"Billy, I--" His date begins, the shriek of her voice trying to talk to him over the loud music making him groan internally. "What?" His voice was gruff when he spoke, his gaze only fixated on what you were doing as you dance with Eddie.

"Are you going to ask me to dance? I want to dance!" Her pout was almost audible and he knew if he looked at her, she'd be looking at him like a kicked puppy, or princess who was told she couldn't have a new tiara. He didn't look though, simply muttering out without deigning to look at her, "Look, Sandy -- Mandy? -- Candy? -- Whatever. I'm not dancing with you, go find someone else for that."

"My name is Brandy asshole!" She huffs. He heard her get up and she swatted him with her purse before the heavenly sound of her retreating heels hits his ears.

Billy was thinking about how happy you looked when dancing, your smile a fixed plague on his mind that replayed in his head like a taunting vision. He wanted to make you look like that. But he didn't know if you would even want to talk to him after the last time. 

You were so unpredictable that he didn't know if you were going to punch him in the face or flirt with him at any given moment. It was honestly exhilarating, except when it escalated badly which seemed to happen a lot.

He approached cautiously, shrugging his way through the dancing groups. The song slows as he gets closer to you, your friend whispering something in your ear and leaving a moment later. Billy watches as you turn quickly, folding your arms to seem tough. "What do you want?" You'd said and it almost made him laugh, but that would have given off entirely the wrong impression. Still, he couldn't even begin to stifle the smile that grew wider the longer he stood in your presence. "Well?"

Billy thinks a moment, deciding what would be best to do to relieve the fury you clearly still clung to after your last encounter. A tentative hand reaches out and he waits expectantly for you to take it, "Dance with me," He states.

"No." You'd said, "Thanks." Your arms remain folded against your chest as he steps closer, a lot of people now leaving the dance floor that the music had changed and slowed into a more gentle tune.

"Dance with me. Promise you never have to talk to me again after." Billy said, his smile growing into a broad grin that he catches you staring at with an internal satisfaction. He knew you found him attractive, you'd told him as much when you'd called him pretty all those months ago. Sure, you were drunk but the moment was on his mind more than he'd like. Much like the one of pleading your forgiveness from his knees, and the look you'd given him when he did.