Eighteen Candles (you will remember me)

35.

Billie

I think I stayed in bed, my head laying on Blake's chest, the whole day. He even fell asleep at one point. I can feel his hair tingling my forehead. He is holding me close by my waist, dragging me closer to him every time I move just a small bit.

I move my head upwards to get a closer look at him. He looks peaceful. Very much different from when I told him about Chris. I honestly expected him to explode and go right to Chris and rip his head off. He probably does want to do that though.

I can remember how I fell in love with Blake Evans all this time ago and I remember why. When I was younger and saw Blake kissing Gemma, I felt betrayed. My small little girly heart was broken and I promised myself to never give him a chance when I would grow older ending up hot as fuck.

That's obviously not still the reason I didn't end up liking him like that again. When I saw Flynn being upset about the first girl that had a crush on her brother, I promised her I would never do that to her.

Then I just built up the hatred I felt for him when Blake kissed Gemma. I kept telling myself Blake is an unloyal asshole who enjoys hurting girl's feelings. And I continued telling myself when I saw him taking girls to rooms and places to do who knows what with them.

I hate him. Really. For having all this girls. For lying to all of them. For not even caring how they feel afterwards. I hate him for caring for me and then being the most stupidest boy I know.

Sometimes I'm afraid I just hate him to not feel what I would feel when I wouldn't hate him.

I lift my head from his chest and move his arm away from around my shoulder. Blake opens his eyes slowly, his brows furrowed. I get off the bed and just look at him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, sitting upright now.

"I'll go now. It's already dark outside. If I don't get home soon, my dad will be worried. Thank you for taking care of me. Where do you want me to put your hoodie?"

Blake gets up smiling and walks towards me. "You keep the hoodie. I will walk you home."

I shake my head and walk towards the door. If I get all soft on him now, Flynn's going to hate me. Whatever this is, it's ending now. "I'll give you the hoodie back tomorrow then. But I'll walk on my own."

Blake tucks his hands into the pockets of his joggers. He's about to say something when I already grab the doorknob of the door to his room. I leave his bedroom, rush down the stairs and flee out of this house.

I walk down the driveway and hold onto my forehead. Flynn is competing at some kind of Olympics, my father is gone for two days for god knows why cause he hasn't been on work travels since I don't know when, I almost got assaulted (the second time then), I told Blake about it, who now probably wants to murder my boyfriend and all I can think of is this stupid hoodie I'm wearing.

I feel awful.

I am the worst friend.

...

I am still awake. My eyes are fully open. And I can't sleep at all. I can smell him. Every fucking scent that enters my nose is his'. And I hate it.

I jump off my bed and drag Blake's hoodie off me. I throw it across my room, knocking off some books. I take my pillow and throw it at my desk and just yell.

My father rushes into my room and I fall onto my knees and cry.

"Billie!" my father yells and pulls me into his arms. "What's wrong?"

I don't answer him. I just cry.

I don't tell him what happened with Chris. Not yet. My father has been very happy lately. I don't want to ruin that for him now.

"Billie, what's wrong?" my father whispers.

Everything.

I am not enough to be loved, just enough to be fucked. I'm not pretty, I'm hot. I'm not a good friend. I'm betraying her. I'm awful. I don't deserve to be threatened differently.

I sob.

I am an asshole. I'm unfriendly. I'm the worst.

I sob again.

My father strokes the back of my head. He comforts me.

And he sums one of my mom's songs into my ear. One she wrote herself. One she played with me. One we recorded together.

I miss her.

...

"Billie! Stop it, you are ruining the magic," my mother laughs.

I give her a cocky grin and keep hitting the keys in an awful rhythm. My mother continues laughing, not even being able to hit the right keys herself anymore.

"Let's try again. Serious this time."

I nod.

"Hands up-" my mother says and I follow her. "And-"

"PLAY!"

We both follow the notes on the paper in front of us, hitting the right keys this time. My mother's eyes lighten up and I feel the magic of the song, that my mother always talks about, blasting through my veins.

I've always liked this song when my mother used to play it.

Even already when it was just ink on paper but playing it with her makes me feel alive.

I love making music with her. I hope we always will. I know every child is supposed to go through this phase where they start to somehow hate their parents.

They call it puberty.

I just hope I will always make up with my mom then.

And I hope someday I can show her one of my own songs that blasts through her veins.

...

"Why can't she be here with us anymore? I don't know how to take this all. I need her to talk to me, to sing me a song, to yell at me for not cleaning up my room, I need her to tell me to do my homework again, I need her to force me to eat breakfast when I'm already running late. I need her here. Walking around the house. Judging Art you bought and not understanding why you like it. I need her to be my mom again."

I sob.

And I don't think I stopped sobbing at some point.

I might be overdramatizing things right now but that's what I feel. And I can't shove it back inside right now. I feel like I'll explode if I keep pretending.

I just wish you'd be here right now.

— — —

Hiii!

The chapter is a bit shorter than the others, sorry! But I'll try my best finishing the next one in the next days.

I hope all of you are doing great!

<3