Chumps And Chumpettes, chapter 10
In the middle of the night (or the middle of the morning), I woke up in a cold sweat. I had a nightmare about Mark again. In this one, he was chasing me, and I was going in circles round and round a giant hall and he was getting closer and closer. He seemed much, much bigger and he was running with incredible speed after me until he had grabbed my arm. That's when I woke up.
I looked over my shoulder, and there was Billie. Snoring away like a mini tractor or something. I looked at the clock; 5.30am. I sighed, because I felt safe in his company. I laid back down on the bed beside him, and I really tried to get back to sleep, but I couldn't. So I started thinking.
It was great that I'm here, with one of my favourite people in the whole world. It was great that Billie had found me and helped out. It was surprising how down to earth he was as well. In the short amount of time that I had known him, we had become really close. I was almost glad that this stuff had happened.
I was probably delirious from lack of sleep or something, but I rolled over to face his face, and I studied it for a while. He had a perfect face; pretty angelic to be honest.
"Damn, you're cute," I said accidentally louder than a whisper.
I started to twirl a tendril of his dark hair around my fingertips, thinking that he hadn't heard me.
"You're not bad yourself," he whispered after a while.
Infuriated, I shoved him, and he started to laugh.
"Dammit, Billie. Don't do that to me!"
He continued to laugh, so I shoved him again, causing him to roll off the bed. I waited for him to get up and pummel me to death with a fluffy toy or something, but nothing happened. I looked over the side of the bed, and he was just lying there, at a funny angle.
"Billie!" I shouted, worried.
I got off the bed and started to shake him. Being a girl scout for a large chunk of my childhood, I checked his airways. It turned out, he wasn't breathing.
"ARGH! Dammit Billie, please get up! Or breathe! Or just wiggle! DO SOMETHING!" I shouted down his ears as I shook his shoulders.
With a sigh, I realised that there was only really one thing that I could do. Mouth to mouth resuscitation. I took a gasp and leant in. I blew once, then pumped his chest, and then checked his pulse. It was there. With more hope, I leant in to his lips again. I felt him start to kiss me, and when I tried to back away in shock, he pulled me down closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"Told you I'd get myself another kiss," he said, smirking.
"Billie, you asshole," I replied, and tried to poke him, but he grabbed my hand and rolled over so that he was on top of me instead.
"Gotcha," he said.
"Touché Mr. Armstrong, touché," I replied and he smiled. "You can get off of me anytime now, Billie."
"Na-uh."
"Ya-huh."
"Na-uh."
"Ya-huh."
"Na-uh."
"Damn! Billie c'mon...get off. Pretty please?" I said, batting my eyelashes.
"In exchange for a kiss."
I sighed, as if it was a chore to keep kissing those lovely lips. "I suppose so then. But I wouldn't get used to it if I were you."
"We'll see about that."
We eventually got back onto the bed, but neither of us could sleep, so we spent the night (or rest of the morning, whichever way you want to look at it) talking.
"Oh, I forgot to ask you," he mumbled. "Do you wanna have a pyjama party on Friday? Coz, Tré and Mike are coming, we do about once a month anyway... And we thought that we could probably allow you to stay and join in...it might be fun."
"Sure," I replied sleepily, before finally drifting off to sleep.
Little did I know what I had let myself in for.
I spent most of my time mucking around while I was staying at Billie's. He was hardly ever there unfortunately, so I had to amuse myself. Luckily for me, I had just quit my last job before...everything happened, so I didn't need to worry about that. Billie seemed to be well off, so I didn't need to worry about money (although I felt guilty about scrounging food and hospitality off of him). I didn't have any family anymore, my parents were quite old, and eventually pneumonia had got them both, just a couple of winters ago. That's why I had moved away, to run away from some of the pain, and then I'd met Mark, and I hadn't really made any other friends, so I was stuck now. I avoided the question whenever I could, that horrible question; 'what's going to happen to me?'
It was now Friday. It had been a week and a day since I came to Billie's house. And it had been 5 days since I had last seen Mark. I was still tense, anxious to know if he was waiting around the corner, or if he was sitting in a bush, waiting to ambush me.
I was looking forward to the 'pyjama party' later on though. Billie Joe had given me an odd list to get while he was at band practice; it was a shopping list that consisted of some very strange ingredients, such as a wide variety of paper hats and a lot of whipped cream. I couldn't help but be a little anxious about what this sleepover would be like. It comforted me a little to know that it was a regular thing, but it also worried me because I was being let in on this taboo sort of subject; whenever I asked about it, Billie would just tap the side of his nose and put his finger over my lips.
I started to walk back towards Billie's house from the supermarket. I was listening to my MP3 player. All of a sudden, 'Extraordinary Girl' started to play. I couldn't change it because my hands were full, so I just kept listening.
'Some days she feels like dying/ she gets so sick of crying' It seemed to relate to me, it seemed like the words were written for me, even though I knew there was no way there could have been. A single tear rolled down from my eye. As my hands were full of shopping bags, I had to let it run down. I felt it trickle down the side of my cheek before eventually dropping off my jaw line, and landing with a soft 'plop' on the leg of my jeans. I hoped that no mascara had been entangled in it by accident; they were new jeans that Billie had bought for me.
I dropped the bags outside of Billie's house and wiped my sleeve along the side of my face, hopefully removing any traces of tearstains from my face. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, before turning around to grab the shopping bags. When I stood up again, Tré was standing in front of me.
"Got the whipped cream?" he asked, with a smile on his face.
"That's a very fiendish grin you're wearing, Tré," I said.
"Oh, you don't know what it's for," he said, the smile not moving from his lips.
"Don't be so mysterious," I replied, before kneeing his bum cheek gently with one of my free limbs.
"Kinky," he muttered before taking away some of the bags from my hands.
"She's back," I heard Tré yell from the kitchen.
Mike ran out to confront me, and he took the last of the bags from me.
"Erm," Mike started, "Don't go in the kitchen yet. We're preparing a surprise for you."
"Right then," I said. "A nice surprise?"
"You'll have to wait and see," he said with a devilish grin, before running towards the kitchen.
"Why is everybody keeping me in the dark today?" I called out to nobody in particular. "I'll be in Billie's room if you need me," I shouted. I didn't receive any real answer, except I could hear a lot of giggling coming from the direction of the kitchen counters. "Right then." I said, before making my way upstairs.
'What the hell is going on?' I thought to myself, before plonking myself on Billie's bed to rest my aching limbs.
I looked over my shoulder, and there was Billie. Snoring away like a mini tractor or something. I looked at the clock; 5.30am. I sighed, because I felt safe in his company. I laid back down on the bed beside him, and I really tried to get back to sleep, but I couldn't. So I started thinking.
It was great that I'm here, with one of my favourite people in the whole world. It was great that Billie had found me and helped out. It was surprising how down to earth he was as well. In the short amount of time that I had known him, we had become really close. I was almost glad that this stuff had happened.
I was probably delirious from lack of sleep or something, but I rolled over to face his face, and I studied it for a while. He had a perfect face; pretty angelic to be honest.
"Damn, you're cute," I said accidentally louder than a whisper.
I started to twirl a tendril of his dark hair around my fingertips, thinking that he hadn't heard me.
"You're not bad yourself," he whispered after a while.
Infuriated, I shoved him, and he started to laugh.
"Dammit, Billie. Don't do that to me!"
He continued to laugh, so I shoved him again, causing him to roll off the bed. I waited for him to get up and pummel me to death with a fluffy toy or something, but nothing happened. I looked over the side of the bed, and he was just lying there, at a funny angle.
"Billie!" I shouted, worried.
I got off the bed and started to shake him. Being a girl scout for a large chunk of my childhood, I checked his airways. It turned out, he wasn't breathing.
"ARGH! Dammit Billie, please get up! Or breathe! Or just wiggle! DO SOMETHING!" I shouted down his ears as I shook his shoulders.
With a sigh, I realised that there was only really one thing that I could do. Mouth to mouth resuscitation. I took a gasp and leant in. I blew once, then pumped his chest, and then checked his pulse. It was there. With more hope, I leant in to his lips again. I felt him start to kiss me, and when I tried to back away in shock, he pulled me down closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"Told you I'd get myself another kiss," he said, smirking.
"Billie, you asshole," I replied, and tried to poke him, but he grabbed my hand and rolled over so that he was on top of me instead.
"Gotcha," he said.
"Touché Mr. Armstrong, touché," I replied and he smiled. "You can get off of me anytime now, Billie."
"Na-uh."
"Ya-huh."
"Na-uh."
"Ya-huh."
"Na-uh."
"Damn! Billie c'mon...get off. Pretty please?" I said, batting my eyelashes.
"In exchange for a kiss."
I sighed, as if it was a chore to keep kissing those lovely lips. "I suppose so then. But I wouldn't get used to it if I were you."
"We'll see about that."
We eventually got back onto the bed, but neither of us could sleep, so we spent the night (or rest of the morning, whichever way you want to look at it) talking.
"Oh, I forgot to ask you," he mumbled. "Do you wanna have a pyjama party on Friday? Coz, Tré and Mike are coming, we do about once a month anyway... And we thought that we could probably allow you to stay and join in...it might be fun."
"Sure," I replied sleepily, before finally drifting off to sleep.
Little did I know what I had let myself in for.
I spent most of my time mucking around while I was staying at Billie's. He was hardly ever there unfortunately, so I had to amuse myself. Luckily for me, I had just quit my last job before...everything happened, so I didn't need to worry about that. Billie seemed to be well off, so I didn't need to worry about money (although I felt guilty about scrounging food and hospitality off of him). I didn't have any family anymore, my parents were quite old, and eventually pneumonia had got them both, just a couple of winters ago. That's why I had moved away, to run away from some of the pain, and then I'd met Mark, and I hadn't really made any other friends, so I was stuck now. I avoided the question whenever I could, that horrible question; 'what's going to happen to me?'
It was now Friday. It had been a week and a day since I came to Billie's house. And it had been 5 days since I had last seen Mark. I was still tense, anxious to know if he was waiting around the corner, or if he was sitting in a bush, waiting to ambush me.
I was looking forward to the 'pyjama party' later on though. Billie Joe had given me an odd list to get while he was at band practice; it was a shopping list that consisted of some very strange ingredients, such as a wide variety of paper hats and a lot of whipped cream. I couldn't help but be a little anxious about what this sleepover would be like. It comforted me a little to know that it was a regular thing, but it also worried me because I was being let in on this taboo sort of subject; whenever I asked about it, Billie would just tap the side of his nose and put his finger over my lips.
I started to walk back towards Billie's house from the supermarket. I was listening to my MP3 player. All of a sudden, 'Extraordinary Girl' started to play. I couldn't change it because my hands were full, so I just kept listening.
'Some days she feels like dying/ she gets so sick of crying' It seemed to relate to me, it seemed like the words were written for me, even though I knew there was no way there could have been. A single tear rolled down from my eye. As my hands were full of shopping bags, I had to let it run down. I felt it trickle down the side of my cheek before eventually dropping off my jaw line, and landing with a soft 'plop' on the leg of my jeans. I hoped that no mascara had been entangled in it by accident; they were new jeans that Billie had bought for me.
I dropped the bags outside of Billie's house and wiped my sleeve along the side of my face, hopefully removing any traces of tearstains from my face. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, before turning around to grab the shopping bags. When I stood up again, Tré was standing in front of me.
"Got the whipped cream?" he asked, with a smile on his face.
"That's a very fiendish grin you're wearing, Tré," I said.
"Oh, you don't know what it's for," he said, the smile not moving from his lips.
"Don't be so mysterious," I replied, before kneeing his bum cheek gently with one of my free limbs.
"Kinky," he muttered before taking away some of the bags from my hands.
"She's back," I heard Tré yell from the kitchen.
Mike ran out to confront me, and he took the last of the bags from me.
"Erm," Mike started, "Don't go in the kitchen yet. We're preparing a surprise for you."
"Right then," I said. "A nice surprise?"
"You'll have to wait and see," he said with a devilish grin, before running towards the kitchen.
"Why is everybody keeping me in the dark today?" I called out to nobody in particular. "I'll be in Billie's room if you need me," I shouted. I didn't receive any real answer, except I could hear a lot of giggling coming from the direction of the kitchen counters. "Right then." I said, before making my way upstairs.
'What the hell is going on?' I thought to myself, before plonking myself on Billie's bed to rest my aching limbs.
