𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 - 𝐁.𝐄

twenty nine - reptilia

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billie.
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august 12th.

"finn, where are the avocados?" i say, my voice echoing through the kitchen as i rummage aimlessly through the fridge, the cold air spilling out and grazing my bare skin.

it's almost frustrating how little i care about this search and yet it seems to be even more frustrating as to how much it preoccupies me. claudia's laughter trickles in from the living room, where she's curled up on the couch, her legs lazily draped across finn's lap like she's some kind of royalty. the tv flashes and pours along the walls in the cottage, its colors bouncing off and onto their faces. finneas barely even turns his head away from the screen when he hears me call out.

"they're not there?" he asks, voice flat and quite uninterested, not even facing his eyes over towards me. a shrug of mine follows, as though the answer to my very simple question wasn't something that warranted concern.

no, finneas, that's why i asked in the first place. "no." i replied in a defeated sigh, the word carrying my disappointed tone. not in the avocados being missing, but for finneas being so oblivious.

he raises his shoulders to shrug, as though he's mimicking my own, like it's none of his concern. "text mom or dad before they leave. just have cereal for now." he suggests blandly as if it's a solution. his attention just turns back to the screen, back to claudia, and back to anything that isn't this small and meaningless conversation. i can feel my irritation rising, not only with him, but with the world as well.

meanwhile, our parents are off gallivanting at the overpriced grocery store down the street that barely justifies for its absurd prices. they're gathering some supplies for the rest of the trip.

ive been asleep until eleven. ive felt groggy and woke up starving, the time flying by, even now when it had suddenly became eleven-thirty. when i had finally dragged myself out of bed, finneas and claudia had already devoured the last of the avocado toast, leaving behind only an obscene amount of bread, but not a single fucking avocado in sight. of course.

it's always the fucking avocados.

i let out a deep groan, matched with a heavy sigh which was enough to convey the weight of my problems. i pull my phone from the depths of my stupidly long shorts—the ones i'd accidentally fallen asleep in.

the screen lights up, blinding me for a split second since it was on full brightness, but i pull up my mom's contact which was pinned to the top of my messages. i quickly type out a message to get more avocados, nothing special. but when i leave our messages and i'm bought back to a list of names, my eyes skim to my other pinned contact.

julia.

my phone buzzes, gaining another message from max—this guy i hooked up with like, what, a day ago? i scheduled it. can you believe that? i scheduled a hookup at the beginning of the trip because of pure boredom. honestly, i meant to cancel it but i kinda forgot, and now it feels like this bizarre, lingering reminder of something that i shouldn't even care about. but i still went through with it, unfortunately, even though i really didn't want to.

but julia... she hasn't even texted me. it's been radio silence between her and i. i'm convinced she's ghosting me. i don't know what i did or didn't do, but the gnawing pit in my stomach tells me it's something, maybe it's got something to do with max. did she see us? could she see us? my mind wanders, and that's enough to make me click on our old messages as if there'll be a clue or some small sign of what went wrong.

there's a pinned link of something she sent me a while back—her instagram profile. i stare at it, debating whether or not to click on it for a bit longer than i should've.

honestly, i'm wondering if she's up to something, if she's busy, and if maybe she's showing the reason why she's been ghosting me. maybe it's nothing, but maybe it's something else.

i tap the link and watched and waited as instagram opened. sure enough, there's her profile. the familiar pink ombré ring circling her profile picture like a mocking halo that signifies she's got a new story that wants to convince me to tap on it.

she had three posts. no highlights. that's all she's had. she's got this whole private and keep-to-herself lifestyle going on, despite having like a thousand followers and a public account. the mystery is almost intoxicating, she wraps herself in something so secretive though so many people are watching and lurking.

i hum under my breath, scrolling and swiping through her pictures as i lean my back against the counter. each one was so addicting to look at. i'm literally on the verge of screenshotting each picture just to keep them to myself. that's not weird at all... right?

she's so beautiful. i don't even know how i got to be close to her. how did i get to kiss that pretty face? to hold her, to touch her. god, my chest tightens even when i just think about it. damn.

my thumb hovers over her that glowing pink circle, her story. and before i can stop myself, i tap on it. it practically reeled me in.

the first thing i see is her face, her ethereal and soft face. she's got such beauty that makes your breath catch in your throat with just one look. and for a second, i'm just staring, completely captivated. that is until i tap again to view the next slide out of her three stories.

and then i see it. i notice presumably her hand, a hand that i studied and learned. it was with someone else's hand in hers. whos fucking hand is she holding? my heart drops. a sick, hollow feeling spread all throughout my chest. the hand is masculine and firm, making my stomach churn. it isn't mine. it was a guys. why isn't it mine?

the questions flood in relentlessly. is this why she's been ghosting me? is she with someone else? has she always been with someone else? did she just use me to fill a void? did she just use me just to satisfy and subside an aching craving for herself until someone better came along?

what the fuck. i really she thought liked me.

holy shit. pause. my heart stutters in my chest as the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. what account was i on?

a heavy and nauseating sickness shifts all in my guts, sinking lower and lower just to make me sicker as the pieces keep clicking into place.

no fucking way.

there's no denying it now. it's done. i didn't use my finsta. i didn't use the safe and anonymous account i hide behind like a veil when i want to slip into her world unnoticed and act like a total ghost.

nope. i used the one. thee one. @billieeilish. my fucking public account. the one that's not supposed to see her life unfold in that specific way.

you've got to be fucking kidding me. is this karma for hooking up with someone else right after fucking her? goddamn bro.

she's gonna think that i'm a fucking stalker now. i can literally see her reaction now, the way her eyes would widen, maybe even laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it. and it wouldn't be in the playful way like her pretty face normally does, but in that way that makes my skin crawl because i'll know she's just trying to hide how uncomfortable she is.

she'll see that i saw her story, the pictures that were meant for casual viewers, friends, and for her family, for people who don't overthink every interaction with her like i do.

but what's worse, far worse, she'll know i saw that picture. the one with her hand in another's which was so obviously not mine. she'll know that i spent seconds, minutes, lingering over that singular picture alone, then over those two other pictures where she looks so effortlessly beautiful and made her feel so achingly out of reach even though she was a door away.

i can already feel the shame creeping up my neck, burning hot and fiery under my skin.

shit.

i've ruined everything. i can't take it back. i can't just undo this. there's no way to pretend like i didn't just completely fuck myself over.

fuck my life bro.

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1457 words.
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