Murder City

Chapter Seven

7 || Aurora Bennett

I cross my arms, tugging the covers over me. "Fletcher?" God, my voice sounds pathetic. I resent myself when I'm with him, as I always shrink into weakness. I'm not like that. With Billie, I feel as if I can bring the best of myself out freely, but with Fletcher I have to hide everything. "Mm?" Fletcher responds, not even willing to form words.

I'm not sure what to say. I resist the urge to tell him how bad he is at sex, and instead I come up with something much more like the person Fletcher believes I am. "Can we cuddle?" I ask. I never thought I'd have to ask for that, as the few men I slept with before Fletcher would do it automatically. He stifles a laugh, before moving onto his back. It's weird, being so far apart, yet so close. I can hear every detail in his breath, but I don't feel it on my skin. Thats the problem. With Billie, he'd never leave me alone. He'd make sure his skin would be against mine constantly. 

"Where were you?" He asks, the silence disturbed, my thoughts silencing to the present. Eyebrows raising, I turn to him, a questioning look painted across my face. He doesn't bother looking my way, his head stays fixed on the roof. "At the awards ceremony. You were gone for almost an hour." I try not to smile. I remember Billie taking me outside. It was risky, anyone could have easily walked by and snapped a photo, but in that moment nobody else in the world existed. It was just us. Me and him. We walked around the building, stopping from time to time to press gentle kisses to each other's lips, or to whisper sweet nothings to eachother. "You're supposed to stay where I can see you." His words spit like venom from his throat. I'm not a child. Thats all I want him to understand. I'm not his property. As much as I tell myself that, I know deep down that I am. I'm meant to fight for myself, not be taken advantage of.

 I don't bother responding, my thoughts are too harsh. I need to sleep it off, but I know when I wake up, the thoughts will consume me once more. I wish I could forget. I wish I could delete things from my mind. 

I reach over to my nightstand, feeling against the hard wood, searching for my phone in the dark. Theres one person who could consume those thoughts. Theres one person who makes me think good thoughts.

Me:

Hey.

Something short, snappy. To get his attention-which is what I crave constantly. Is this desperation? Are you meant to be this clingy when you're in love? I wish the answer was written down somewhere. Love is kind of like having a baby. It just happens, and you're never ready for it, and every experience is different so nobody can truly tell you what to do.

Billie:

Hey, you.

God, he makes me blush. He didn't even do anything and I already feel myself prepared to drop everything and be with him. I wish I could. 

Another text pings through my phone. Valentine's name appears at the top of my screen, with her text slightly cutting off. I click on it, waiting for Billie to finish typing his message. As my screen changes, I see a photo of Billie, laying across a messy bed. His body wrapped in a full black suit, his body almost consumed by his blazer. His focus seems to be completely on his phone, which he holds awkwardly, with one hand wrapped completely around it, with the other tapping at the screen. I begin to wonder if he's ever used a phone before. The text under it reads "Texting your boyfriend?" With a wink emoji attached to it.

 Me:

Maybe.

Ever since Billie and I came back from our walk around the hall the awards ceremony was held at, she's been inspecting our every movement together closely. I know she's cracked our friendly façade, but I know she'll keep her mouth shut.

Billie's text finally appears, and I smile. Envisioning him lead on Valentine's bed, expecting my reply. Before I click onto Billie's text, Val sends me another one.

Valentine:
Mike and him are at my place, celebrating the awards. You coming?

I look over to Fletcher, his eyes are tightly drawn closed, light snoring coming from his open lips. I smile, looking over to my closed bedroom door.