͏b͏r͏o͏k͏e͏n || ͏b͏i͏l͏l͏y ͏h͏a͏r͏g͏r͏o͏v͏e

E L E V E N

"Swear to God, Max!" Billy yelled, clearly irritated. He went back to his workout. Max, stomped through the house, opened the front door and stepped outside when she saw us.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, her eyes darting around.

"I have proof," Lucas said urgently.

"What?" Max asked, confused.

"Proof that what I told you was real. But we have to hurry," Lucas replied, moving back toward his bike.

"What kind of proof?" Max asked, still not convinced.

"Quit asking so many questions and go with him!" I interjected, gesturing toward Lucas.

"Why are you here?" Max crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.

"I'm here to tame the beast." I nod inside her house. "We've got a project to do," I said, holding up my school bag. Max nodded and glanced back at Lucas.

"Meet me at my window," Max whispered before slipping back inside, the door shutting softly behind her.

I sighed, leaning against the siding of the house and rubbing my temples. The rock music rattled the windows; it felt like the whole place was vibrating with testosterone. Lucas darted around the back, and for a moment the yard went still.

Then the front door ripped open.

Billy.

Of course.

He filled the doorway—sweaty, shirtless, forearms flexed from his workout, chest rising and falling.
My brain went completely blank for a second.

Don't look at his arms, Ana.
Don't—

Too late.

"Hiya, neighbor!" I chirped, way too bright and fake, basically radiating unhinged energy.

Billy blinked, thrown off. "Ana? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here so we can finish our project," I said, waving the canvas around like a white flag I had zero intention of surrendering. "Remember? Twenty by forty painting? Hidden meaning? Emotional depth? Thirty percent of our grade?"

Billy frowned like he was trying to do math. Then he began closing the door inch by inch.

Nope.

I shoved past him and slipped inside like a feral raccoon with a mission.

"You're lucky you got me as a partner," I announced, brushing off my shirt dramatically. "Lord knows no one else would put up with your crap."

He stared deadpan, sweat still dripping down his temples. "Wow. Thanks, princess. Really warms a guy's heart."

"Anytime," I said sweetly, patting his head like he was an exceptionally large, exceptionally cranky golden retriever. Billy's jaw flexed. He looked about two seconds away from throwing me back out the door.

"Well, hate to break it to ya, princess, but I'm a little preoccupied." He gestured at the weights, the bench, the sweat-soaked towel—basically an entire shrine to pure ego.

"Yeah, I can see that," I said, stepping over a dumbbell and tossing my bag onto the couch. "But I told you not to make any plans."

"I didn't," he snapped.

"You did," I countered. "Your plan was to ignore me."

"That's not a plan," he argued.

"It is when you do it aggressively."