The Loser's Girlfriend [A Billie Joe Armstrong Fan Fiction]

Chapter Forty: "We Demand A Sex Tape!"

HEY! So this is the last chapter of The Loser's Girlfriend and, to be frank, I'm actually excited in ending this story, I don't know why (I'm weird like that)...but that doesn't mean that I'm tired of writing this or whatever, just saying.

Wrapping this story up feels awfully nice and, you guys...you guys are the best <3

As much as I want to dedicate this chapter to everyone who have been there since I posted the first few chapters of this story, I can't because Wattpad doesn't allow users to do so :( And, I also don't want to type down usernames here in fear that I would miss someone's username and, lose an internet friend...that's gona be so sad. (zero sarcasm)

Anyways, here's the LAST chapter of TLG :) (And I'm sorry if it doesn't actually provde that sense of...finality...forgive me :( I'm a first time fanfic writer)

Chapter Forty: “We Demand A Sex Tape!”

- Billie -

It’s 2:00 in the morning, a Saturday. I spent the night in Chelsea’s house but had to stomach Jordan’s amused and almost suggestive looks when I told mom my plans to sleepover. She had warned me not to do anything stupid and I promised I won’t.

Just like how those people in conservative societies act around girls.

My eyes moved to the lights in the gaps of the curtains in Chelsea’s bedroom, making stripes of fluorescent lighting appear on the carpeted floor and parts of the bed. I’ve been awake for the past two hours and, my mind’s fully awake, not allowing me to go back to the sleep.

I turned on my side, staring at Chelsea’s sleeping figure, her blonde hair all tousled and tangled in waves around her face.

My hand went up and stroked her cheek lightly, her own hand coming up and brushing mine away. Her forehead was creased as she hummed shortly in her sleep.

I felt my lips twitch into a smile as I pull my hand back, not wanting to disturb her any longer.

Her eyelids fluttered open slightly as she mumbled, “Billie…”

“Hmm?” I ask, leaning closer to her. “What?”

Her hand searched through the blankets shortly and grabbed mine, bringing it closer, moving me closer, to her.

And, as I looked back into her face, she was looking straight at me in the eyes.

“What?” I ask, my voice going out all scratchy.

I see her eyes look downward for a bit then look back up again, “how do you know this one isn’t some sort of a trick?”

At first, I was a bit confused about what she told me but, suddenly, my mind registered rather quickly and I grew silent, asking myself how I knew that what we have is real.