͏b͏r͏o͏k͏e͏n || ͏b͏i͏l͏l͏y ͏h͏a͏r͏g͏r͏o͏v͏e

T W E L V E

𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

After ten minutes of scrubbing, I finally managed to get the paint off my face. My cheeks were still flushed—probably from the kissing, not the scrubbing—but I pretended not to notice.

The shower was running in Billy's bathroom, the hiss of water rattling against tile. It should've calmed me down.
It didn't.

I sat on the edge of his bed and forced myself to breathe. I needed to think. Needed to get my head straight before—

KSSSHHH.

The walkie-talkie clipped to my backpack crackled loudly, making me jump. Steve's voice burst through the static:

"Ana? Hey, do you copy? Pick up—Ana!"

I scrambled to close the bedroom door, my heart thudding. I grabbed the walkie and pressed the button.

"I'm here, I'm here. Quiet down," I hissed, keeping my voice low.

"Why are you whispering?" Steve shot back, suspicion thick in his tone.

Because I'm in Billy Hargrove's room.
Because I just kissed Billy Hargrove.
Because I'm currently losing my mind—

"You know what, never mind. Listen, I need you at the woods near the Lab. Right now."

My stomach dropped. "Why? What happened?"

"I'll explain when you get here," he said quickly. He sounded breathless, scared. "Just hurry, Ana. Please."

I rubbed my forehead. "What about Billy?"

There was a sharp exhale from the other end. "What about him?! Jesus—just tell him you have Girl Scouts or algebra tutoring or—I don't care! Just get here!"

"Steve—"

"Ana, seriously. This is bad. Just go." His voice cracked halfway through—panic bleeding through static. "Over and out."

The walkie went dead.

I stared at it, pulse pounding.

I stood, stuffing the walkie into my bag—but paused when the shower shut off. Panic kicked my ribs.

Billy would ask questions.
Billy always asked questions.
And I couldn't tell him—not this. Not the truth.

The bathroom door clicked.

Billy opened his door and stood in the doorway, steam curling around him like something out of a dream—or a warning. His hair was dripping, his skin flushed from the heat, towel thrown over his shoulder, chest on full display.

My face went hot immediately. Great. Exactly what I needed right now—a half-naked distraction.

"Who was that?" he asked, voice rough, casual... but his eyes had already sharpened.

I swallowed. "Uh—Steve. On the walkie."

Billy arched a brow and stepped further into the room, opening a drawer like he wasn't watching me. But he absolutely was.

"And what did he want this time?" he asked, tugging on a shirt.

"He just—" I took a breath. "He wants me home. Something came up."

I tried slipping past him, aiming for the door. But Billy moved faster, planting one hand against the wall beside me, blocking my escape without even touching me.

"Princess." His voice dipped lower. Controlled. Calm. And that was somehow worse. "Look at me."

I did.