The Loser's Girlfriend [A Billie Joe Armstrong Fan Fiction]

Chapter Thirty-Eight: "You're Hotter Than Megan Fox."

HEY, OMG, I'M BACK! (Without a vengeance) And, SUMMER STARTS...next week.

You see, I still have a notebook and, a campus paper to pass and, I got this international invitation whatever to join this summer enrichment somthing for Science for next year...and, I just might take that, not even sure, and, lastly, I still need to take this practical exam in health where we will try to perform CPR on a dummy...minus the mouth-to-mouth.

But, yeah, AT LEAST MOST OF THE SHIZZ THAT I'VE BEEN DOING IS OVER. I SURVIVED SOPHOMORE YEAR, PEOPLE, I SURVIVED 13 SUBJECTS (two of those are from the field of Math, by the way :(), WHOO!!

Okay, anyway, sorry. Here's chapter thirty-eight!!

Chapter Thirty-Eight: “You’re Hotter Than Megan Fox.”

- Billie -

Friday night means movie night. And movie night means sitting on Chelsea’s carpeted floor while eating fries and drinking soda.

Lemonade for her tonight, though…saying she’s becoming fat.

“Are you serious?! I don’t give a shit if you’re fat!” I had exclaimed as she had explained the reason behind the glass of pink lemonade she was currently drinking.

“Psh, yeah right,” were her teasing words before lifting the glass to her lips.

“Yes, right,” I replied immediately.

She raised her right eyebrow but, I caught sight of her lip twitching upward; a sign of a smile.

“No, seriously, stop with the dieting,” I said, reaching for the glass; she holds her hand back.

“Stop! It might spill on my carpet,” she snapped, placing the glass on the coffee table in front of us, making sure that it was at the centre so that it won’t fall out.

I grin, placing the can of soda right beside hers and lying down on her lap, “you sound like my mom sometimes.”

She smiles and chose to ignore me instead, staring the television that was showing Jennifer’s Body. My eyes travelled to the television, to the part where Jennifer brought this football dude in the forest.

“What’re they doing?” I asked her cheekily, sitting up once again.

“What do you think they’re doing?” she answers.

“Having a conversation…? Whoops! Clearly not only having one,” I smile playfully as she hit me on the arm lightly. “God, she’s hot,” I say loudly, referring to Megan Fox.

“Shut up, Billie. She’s mine,” she retorts as she rolls her eyes.