Kissing Habits.

17. The Stalking of Billy Hargrove

Chapter Seventeen
The Stalking of Billy Hargrove

MAX HAD GONE PALE. She rushed over to the broken window at the front of the house, and peered out into the darkness, which had been lit up by a pair of headlights.

"It's my brother," she tremored, pulling immediately away from the window. "He can't know I'm here. He will kill me. Kill us."

"Brother?" Theodora hummed, making her way to the window.

Tyres screeched against the ground as the car came to a halt outside the house, the blaring music inside pausing. With a click, the drive pulled the key from the ignition, and all went dark.

From the window, Theodora squealed. "Oh, my God," she gasped, taking a step back to run a hand through her hair, which she had brushed by now. "You didn't tell me your brother was Billy Hargrove."

But Max didn't seem as excited, her scowl only growing more grave. "Step-brother. We aren't blood. I would rather die than be related to him for real."

"Set me up, why don't you?" She grinned.

Ever since Billy and Max had moved into town, Theodora Özdemir had her eyes set on Billy Hargrove. From the way he moved, to the way he talked, she was all over him. Now, obviously, it wasn't like she'd spoken to him; no, she'd never had the chance. If, perhaps, he weren't about to kill his little sister, she might go out and ask for a date.

"He's not as cute as he seems..." The ginger girl mumbled, all eyes on Steve Harrington as he stepped over to the front door and peeled it open.

In the dark of night, a stinky air of cigarette smoke lingered around Billy Hargrove's head. He gave a vain chuckle and flicked his cigarette butt to the grass beneath foot.

"Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?" He asked, voice straight out of an early-80s high school film, like he'd been copy-and-pasted straight out of the movie theatre.

From the porch, hands on hips, the man in question glowered down the front yard at him. "Yeah, it's me," he confirmed, an edge to his voice that wasn't usually there. "Don't cream your pants."

During the exchange, Camila and Theodora ushered the kids further into the house. If Billy was as dangerous as Max had said, they weren't safe - nobody was; not even Steve, who had risked his body by stepping out that door.

"What are you doing here, amigo?" And each time he smiled, arrogance dripped from his lips, blue eyes watching as Steve walked down the steps towards him.

But Steve wasn't going to back down. "I could ask you the same thing," he responded coolly. "Amigo."

Eyes narrowing as Steve approached, Billy cocked his head ever so slightly to the side. "Looking for my step-sister. A little birdie told me she'd be here."

Steve's bottom lip jutted out for a moment, an expression feigning thought. "That's weird... Don't think I know her."

"Small, redhead, bit of a bitch."

"Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry, buddy."

With the kids tucked into the kitchen, Camila and Theodora situated themselves on the sofa by the broken window, peering out carefully.