Bad guy (REWRITTEN)

Chapter 9

The bathroom smelled of bleach and old tile, the kind of clean that never quite erases the undercurrent of teenage panic. I stood frozen in front of the mirror, water still dripping from my chin, droplets tracing slow paths down my neck like they were trying to escape whatever was clawing up from inside my chest.

Nathan voice had cut through the haze clean and steady.

"Anna''

I'd spun, fist still throbbing, blood already beading along the split skin over my knuckles. The mirror behind my fractured, my reflection into jagged pieces, half a face, one eye wide and glassy, mouth twisted like it belonged to someone else.

Or maybe I imagined too much.

"You okay?"

I laughed once short, bitter. "Do I look okay?"

He didn't answer with words. Just took her hand, turned it palm-up, inspected without touching. Then led me out to my room.

"Everything's gonna be fine" he'd said at the door, light off, voice low enough it almost sounded like truth.

I stared at the ceiling after he left, the glow-in-the-dark stars long faded, and thought: No. It isn't.

Morning came anyway. Alarm. Shower. Jeans. Gray hoodie. Sneakers scuffed at the toes from too many hurried escapes. Breakfast with Nathan and Mom, pancakes i barely tasted, conversation that skimmed the surface like stones on water.

He left too soon. Hugged me in the parking lot like he was memorizing the shape of her shoulders, then drove off with a wave that felt final.

And then there she was.

Billie.

Leaning against the brick wall near the bike racks, green roots catching weak sunlight, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like she'd been waiting for the exact second the car pulled away. The look wasn't soft. Wasn't curious. It was possessive edged with something darker, jealousy maybe, or just the irritation of seeing something that wasn't hers being held by someone else.

I looked away fast. Kept walking. Heart kicking against her ribs like it wanted out.
Classroom. Desk. Billie not there yet. I was relieved.

Then—

"Bitch—"

I jumped hard enough the chair scraped. Billie slid into the seat beside her, all lazy grace and sharp edges, pout already forming.

"Aww. Scared you?"

I stared at the whiteboard. "No"

"You're mad"

"I'm not"

"You are."

"Right, i am, billie"

Back and forth like children on a playground, except the air between them felt charged, electric, like static before a storm.

Billie leaned in, voice dropping to that low register that lived under my skin now.

"That's not my name, baby"

My brows knit. "What?"

Billie's grin was slow, wicked. "Yeah, it's my name, i mean But I've got others." A wink. "You can pick your favorite later"

Heat climbed my cheeks. I turned away, focused on the teacher's droning voice like it was scripture.

Billie didn't let the silence settle.

"So you decided to ignore me, huh?" Her breath ghosted my ear.

"I've got something to discuss with you anyway"

I tensed. Ignored her. Kept my eyes forward.
Then a hand landed on her thigh, casual, warm, fingers splayed like they belonged there.
My whole body locked. Pulse roared in my ears.

The hand slid higher. Slow.

I shot up so fast the chair tipped. "Mrs. Abby—"

The teacher paused, brow raised.

"M-may I go to the bathroom?"

"Yes. Go ahead"

I walked, fast—out the door, down the hall, into the girls' room. Door banged shut behind me. I paced. Once. Twice.

"Just like I planned"

Billie's voice, smooth, amused—came from the left.

I spun. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Billie stepped forward, smirk curling. "You remember what I said? I'm not done with you"

I hit the tile and stayed there, the cold seeping through my jeans. I waited for my pulse to slow, but the door creaked open, the heavy thud of the latch following it.

"You've got a tell" Billie said. She didn't smirk this time; she just leaned against the sinks, looking at me through the mirror.

"When you're panicked, you start looking for the nearest exit sign like a trapped bird. It's a little distracting in Trig"

I straightened my hoodie, trying to find my spine. "What do you want, Billie?"

"Information" Billie said, stepping closer. The air in the small room suddenly felt expensive.

"The guy in the parking lot. The one who looks like he's lived a thousand years and spends half of them worrying about you. Who is he?"

"None of your business" I snapped.

Billie sighed, then flicked a water at her.

"Fuck you, billie. He's my cousin. He was just... checking in"

Billie let out a breath, a short, sharp exhale that might have been relief if she were anyone else. She closed the distance, not stopping until she was in my space, not touching, but close enough that I could smell the faint scent of rain and floral.

"Good" Billie murmured. "I don't like sharing my view"

I felt the heat climbing her neck, that familiar, traitorous sting.

"It doesn't matter, Billie. I'm straight. You're wasting your time"

Billie didn't laugh this time. She didn't wink. She just tilted her head, her eyes tracing the line of my jaw with a clinical, quiet intensity.

"Statistically? Maybe" Billie said, her voice dropping to a low, conversational hum. "But straight is a very loud word for someone who looks at me the way you do when you think I'm not watching"

"I don't—"

"Most people like to think they're a solid line"

Billie interrupted, her thumb grazing the side of my neck, just above the collar of my gray hoodie.

"But nobody's a hundred percent anything, Anna. Life is mostly gray areas. I'm just the first person who's ever dared to ask you which shade you are"

She leaned in, her lips hovering just an inch from my burning cheek.

"I'm not asking you to change" Billie whispered.

"Besides, It's not my problem, baby"

Billie stepped back, the tension snapping like a rubber band. She headed for the door, pausing with her hand on the metal handle.

"See you in English. Don't be late—you've already used your bathroom pass for the year"

The door swung shut. I reached up, her fingers ghosting over the spot on her neck where Billie's thumb had rested. The armor was still there, but for the first time, i could feel the cracks.