Hostage to you

17 NDA

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the warmth. Billie's arm is draped over me, her breath soft and steady against my neck. The faint morning light filters through her curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. For a moment, I just lie there, trying to take it all in.

I'm not used to this—waking up next to someone. Especially not someone like her. It feels... surreal. But there's a comfort in it too, in the way her body fits against mine, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Billie stirs behind me, her arm tightening around my waist. "Morning," she mumbles, her voice low and husky with sleep.

"Morning," I reply, turning slightly to look at her. Her hair is a mess, her eyes half-closed, and she's wearing this lazy smile that makes my chest feel tight. It's unfair how good she looks, even like this.

"You sleep okay?" she asks, her hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I nod, my voice soft. "Yeah. You?"

She hums in response, leaning in to press a kiss to my shoulder before pulling back. "Hungry?"

"A little," I admit.

"Good," she says, sitting up slowly. "I make a mean avocado toast. Prepare to be amazed."

I laugh, rolling out of bed after her. "Avocado toast, huh? How very LA of you."

She smirks over her shoulder. "Don't knock it till you've tried it."

By the time we're in the kitchen, I'm already regretting how much I teased her. Billie moves around the space like she was born to be here, slicing, toasting, and sprinkling things with a precision I definitely don't have. When she sets the plates down in front of me, I can't help but be impressed.

"Alright," she says, sitting across from me. "Moment of truth."

I take a bite, and my eyebrows shoot up. "Okay, this is actually really good."

She grins, taking a bite of her own. "Told you."

We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the clinking of plates and the soft hum of music from the speaker filling the space. It's nice—simple. It feels like something I could get used to.

But just as I'm thinking this morning couldn't get any better, Billie clears her throat. I glance up, and her expression has shifted—still soft, but hesitant in a way that makes me instantly wary.

"There's, uh, something I need to talk to you about," she says, her fingers tapping lightly against the mug in her hands.

I set my fork down, my stomach tightening. "What's up?"

She hesitates for a moment, then sighs. "It's about... us. About keeping this—" she gestures vaguely between us—"private. I've been thinking, and, well... you'd need to sign an NDA."

I blink, staring at her as the words sink in. "An NDA? Like a contract?"

She nods, her expression careful. "It's standard. Anyone who gets close to me in a... personal way has to sign one. It's not about trust—it's just for protection."

I let out a short laugh, though there's no humor in it. "Protection? From me?"

"No!" she says quickly, leaning forward. "It's not like that. It's about protecting what we have. If this gets out before we're ready—"

"Stop," I interrupt, holding up a hand. My appetite is gone, replaced by this tight, angry knot in my chest. "You don't trust me."

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head furiously. "Raven, that's not it. I do trust you—this isn't personal. It's just... my life isn't normal. You know that."

"Yeah," I say sharply, pushing my chair back as I stand. "Your life isn't normal, so I guess I'm just another potential problem for you to manage, huh?"

She stands too, reaching for me, but I step back. "Raven, come on. It's not like that."

"Sure feels like it," I snap, my voice rising. "I'm here, Billie. I've been here. And you want me to sign some paper like I'm... what? A liability?"

Her face falls, and for a moment, I almost feel bad. But the hurt in my chest drowns out any guilt. This isn't how it's supposed to feel—this isn't what trust looks like.

"Raven, please," she says softly. "It's not about you. It's about protecting us. If this gets out—"

"You don't have to explain it again," I say, cutting her off. "I get it. I do. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

She opens her mouth like she's about to argue, but then she stops, her shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how else to do this."

I stare at her, my chest aching with a mix of anger and something I can't quite name. After a long moment, I shake my head, letting out a bitter laugh. "You know, for someone who doesn't trust easily, I've trusted you with a lot."

"Raven—"

"Don't," I say, my voice tight. "Just... don't."

The silence between us is deafening, and I hate how much I wish she'd say something that could fix this. But instead, she just looks at me, her eyes full of regret.

I turn and head for the living room, needing some space before I say something I'll regret. The weight of the morning settles over me, and I know it's going to take more than scrambled eggs and coffee to shake it off.

A/N
"shake it off I shake it offf whoohoohooooo!"
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