Study Buddies// BILLIE EILISH

seventeen

Billie sighs deeply, looking down from my eyes at her shoes for a short moment before looking into me again, "I have it," she pauses, "and yeah, I read it."

Her hands drop from my cheeks as she stands up straight again.

I turn white as I speak, "Y-you- you-you read it?" I stammer.

"Yeah, and I'm sorry. I now realize that was a breach of privacy. It won't happen again," she apologizes.

I take a deep shaky breath, the memories of the words I wrote coming back to me, "Can you please give it back?" I ask, holding out my hand.

Billie takes my outstretched hand and brings it to her lips, smirking and leaving a sweet kiss on it, "After school, baby."

All of my insides melt at the action and I just can't stand to be mad at her any longer. I nod with red cheeks before looking down at the library floor.

With my hand still resting in hers, Billie walks us to History, choosing a seat and pulling it out for me. My eyes never leave the ground throughout the whole journey, too ashamed of what Billie must have read to look up.

Billie scoots her seat closer to mine like always and leaned into my ear, "I would never judge you for anything you could have written in there," she moves away, clears her throat and leans back in, "If I thought I might have, I would never have stolen it."

I still do not look up from my lap, but I nod slightly, just enough for her to see.

I try to focus on the lesson but am ultimately pulled away by my thoughts. I mean, who wouldn't be? My gaze draws over to Billie's bag on the floor where my journal probably sits. In her bag. I rack my brain, remembering snippets of the passages in there.

I think you are really, really hot.

I cringe inwardly.

I'd probably let you blindfold me and drive me to the middle of the forest at midnight and feel safe.

I blow some air out of my nose at that one.

AND YOU ASKED FUCKING PERMISSION BILLIE. TO HOLD MY FUCKING HAND.

I smile a little bit at the thought of that moment before Billie takes her hand and places it on my knee as she writes.

like all the pet names you gave me today and I like when you rest your hand on my knee.

I shiver at the thought of her reading that. Like ewwwwwwww, what was I thinking?

I don't dare think about the more embarrassing of the passages and tune back in to the lesson. After all, I will be doing two sets of homework on it tonight.

As the teacher is talking, I notice Billie shuffle next to me and remove her hand from my knee. I look over to see that she's putting away her journal.

That's weird.

She always writes in it throughout the entirety of class. My confusion is lifted when I see her pull out my journal.

Billie casually flips through the pages as if it belongs to her. She pauses momentarily on the page that I used for my Billie love poster a couple mornings ago, and I want to jump out of my seat to snatch the book, but I contain myself, remembering the events at my old school.

"Oooooh, Cameron likes Lilyyyy," one of the most immature of the boys says, holding up my journal to show the crowd of students.

Another one takes it from him and reads a sentence, "I will come out to you one day and I hope you will accept me."

I look over to see Lily punching her friend in the arm and laughing.

I shiver at the traumatic experience and turn back to watch Billie.

You may wonder why I have a journal after that instance, but where was I supposed to write about said instance, other than in a new journal? Exactly.

Billie continues carelessly going through my entire livelihood until she reaches a fresh page. I watch her pull out her pencil and take it to the page. She writes 'Dear Cameron' before turning to look at me and smirking. She turns the bound pages so I can't see and continues dragging her pen along the white paper thoughtfully.

History class ends and I deter to my locker, no hope of having my journal back until the end of the day. The only hope I do have is that Billie treats it kindly and keeps it to herself. I don't see Billie again until the long-awaited algebra class, where we have a quiz today.

This time when Billie sits down, she pulls out my journal immediately, eagerly opening it the same way she does her own. I turn to focus on the teacher, assuming she will continue her letter to me, but soon glance over and notice her studying the first passage I addressed to her.

I am immediately intrigued, peering at the page along with her. After a few moments of staring, Billie lifts her pen again, writing in between the lines of carefully written words. Again, she turns the book so I can no longer see and I roll my eyes, making sure she couldn't see, before looking to the teacher again.

Ms. Wang says, "I have decided not to administer the quiz we planned on taking today, as I trust you all took the time to study last night. Those of you who did not, you are lucky this time."

Billie scoffs loudly and shakes her head, turning back to the pages of my journal.

I am going to get an earful about that later, I'm sure.

Throughout the class, Billie's left hand sits on my knee, or my thigh, or my arm, or my hand, or anywhere else she can find to rest it. I find myself wondering if I need to buy her an armchair, seeing as she must need one so badly.

I finish up the exit ticket (do you ever have to do those?), one for each of us of course, and turn it in, walking back over to my things where Billie stands, waiting for me.

Time to face the music, I suppose.

a/n:

Hehe, working on this instead of my multitude of final projects.

love you guys <3