if only

chapter 12

The small bouquet of flowers I held in my hand when Finneas answered the door must have looked absolutely pathetic. The look he gave me was as withering as they were.

I don't think he was a fan of mine.

I'd only met him once, and it was last night. Unfortunately, it had been after I'd snorted three lines of a mysterious white substance. So, needless to say, I didn't give him my best first impression. 

"Hi, Finneas," I smiled sheepishly, giving him an awkward little wave. Billie had thrown my clothes from the night before in the wash, so I was dressed in her borrowed clothing; an old pair of plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized Biggie t-shirt. I adjusted the flowers nervously.

He kept staring for a moment, then nodded toward the bedroom. "She's laying down."

"Thanks."

I headed down the hall, stepping over party debris not yet cleaned up. I wondered absentmindedly who was going to clean it up, and silently planned to offer services that I should have done already.

I knocked, heard a quiet grunt, and slowly opened the door. She was curled up on her side in bed, her back to me, watching The Office on her phone.

"Billie?"

She rolled onto her back and smiled sleepily at me. "Hey."

I couldn't help but grin at her beautiful face. "Hey. Brought you... the shittiest bouquet I've ever seen."

She laughed and sat up a little on the pillows, pausing her episode. "Thanks... they're pretty."

She reached for them and smelled them, then pulled back and made a little face. "They, uh, smell like weeds and chemicals though."

I laughed. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, setting them on the nightstand and reaching for me instead. I closed the door behind me, kicked off my shoes, and crawled into her arms. "So, tell me. What's so important that you had to come back right after you left?"

I sighed into her hair. "I remembered."

"Which part?" She laughed.

She was scratching my scalp, my favorite feeling, and I held back a weak whimper. I slid my arms around her waist and tightened my hold as much as I could, as if I could secure her in place.

"That... I told you I—" I couldn't even repeat it.

She froze, her fingers tangled up in my hair. "Oh. Yeah, that."

"Yeah..." I mumbled, burying my face further. "I can't believe I did that, Billie, I'm so—"

She moved her hands to my face and pulled it toward her, grinning. "Baby, I can't hear you."

I sighed. "It was stupid. I shouldn't have said it."

"Hmm..." she bit her lip. "Shouldn't have said it? Or shouldn't have said it then?"

I blinked at her. She still held the curves of my face in her palms. I felt so exposed.

"Um," I started, and felt a blush creep across my cheeks. "I shouldn't have said it... then. It wasn't the right time."

"But it's how you feel?"

I looked her directly in the eyes and took a breath. "Yes."

She nodded, and kissed me softly. When she pulled away, her eyes seemed glossier than usual.

"That's why you did the drugs. And wrote that poem, and stopped going to class when I disappeared."

I closed my eyes. God, I sounded like such a little bitch. But, I nodded, because it was truth.