Murder City

Chapter Eight

8 | Billie Joe Armstrong

"I'm kidnapping you." I joke, leaning over to press a kiss against her red lips as she settles herself into my car. She texted me earlier, told me she wanted to come to Valentines place, but Fletcher's keys are impossible to find. Typical for him. Always misplacing something and making it everyone else problem.

I take a moment to stare. Her body curves perfectly in the tight, red leather she's squeezed into. I'm starting to believe leather is my favorite material, if it wasn't already. Her lips are perfectly shaded to the same color as the dress, her eyeshadow matching. I believe everyone is beautiful, but she's the most beautiful, internally and externally. "What?" She whispers, forcing me to shake myself out of the trance. "Nothing...you're.." The words don't come out. "Beautiful." I finish, gulping. She smiles, but doesn't answer. I don't need words, I know everything she will say before she even opens her mouth.

I've imagined our wedding so many times it feels like a memory. I imagine the way her dress curls around her body. Her fingernails painted a shade of deep red, her favorite. Her blush as she walks down the aisle. Her smile as I read my vows. I can see it all clearly.

Time passes too fast, life is too short. I wish I was given a few extra years to just be with her, I hope heaven is her. Fuck, she is heaven. I want everything. Her good, her bad and her ugly. I want every part of her. I want to see her good days as much as I want to see her bad days. 

I start to drive, but I just want to stop and pull her onto my lap.

We haven't done anything yet. But I'm fine with that. Usually, all I'd want is sex. The women I've been with for the last few years all want me for two things. My body and my money. I've reduced myself into one-night situations only, because I believed thats all women wanted out of me, and I convinced myself thats what I wanted.

But it wasn't.

I wanted to feel loved. Romantic love. I think about my own death constantly, I look around and think, one day, this will all be gone, forever. for billions and billions of years. But the one thing I wanted before that was to experience love. Life isn't as short as people want you to believe, its long. And its even longer when you don't have someone beside you. I spend so much time in my room, thinking I'll die within the next ten years, but every day ticks by slower and slower. 

I keep driving, one of my hands finds its way to her thigh, I feel her squirming under my touch. I try and think about something other than the other methods to making her squirm. We've barely started...well, whatever we have, and I'm already thinking about that. It's my instinct at this point, I meet a woman, we sleep together, she leaves. Its the cycle I've kept my body in for much too long.

Cycle's exist because we fear too much to break them, I mean, who knows? What if you jump out of the loop and you don't land on your feet? 

I regret my 20's deeply. I wish I spent it looking for love, but I'm glad I didn't settle down back then, because I'd never have took a second look at Ari. 

I snap out of my thoughts. We're here. I wish I could live in the present for a moment to realize where I am, and how I got there, and I wish I said something instead of being in my head, just thinking about her. "We're here." Ari repeats my thoughts. She presses a kiss to my cheek, forcing a smile to my lips. 

Before she gets out of the car, I stop her, dragging her back inside. "Five more minutes, okay?" I whisper, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness between us. The house before us is tall, three stories. Tré and Val moved in together a little before they got married. They wanted a lot of space for kids, but the time never came. Val fears she's too old now. But I don't believe that. My mother had me when she was 41, and I don't remember much of her, but I can confidently say she was a strong person, completely fit to be a mother.  

I drag Ari over my lap, instantly breathing her in like fresh air. I kiss her.

I kiss her again.

And again.

And again.

Until I've lost track of how many times I've kissed her.

Its not enough.

I want more.

Much more.

But I can't have more.

What if she doesn't want more?

What 'more' do I want?

Are we moving too quickly?

I pause.

The realization sets in.

We can't have more until she's mine.

She's not mine yet.

I keep forgetting that.

"Break up with him..." I moan, as her head falls to my neck, kissing my skin, sucking on it. I already feel a hickey begin to form. 

My hand slides under her ass, pushing her further in.

"Break up with him." I moan again, keeping her close.

My hand slides under her dress.

She ignores me. 

She keeps kissing me, pulling me in and leaving hickeys on my neck. Don't get me wrong, I love this. 

But it's not right. 

I need the wall between us to crumble, so we can finally see eachother clearly. 

She unbuttons the top three buttons on my shirt, and she kisses my collarbone. Her finger gently traces the tattoo on my neck. 'Be silently drawn' She traces it often, when we hangout together. I love it, but in this context, it makes my jeans tighter. 

"Break up with him." I repeat, my hands sliding away.

I breathe in.

She looks shocked.

I can't do this.

What would Fletcher think?

I know he's never wanted to get along with me, but he's my brother. I know he doesn't love her, he tolerates her, which is a stretch.

 But this is wrong either way. 

As long as she shares a bed with that man, she's his. 

Nothing will happen between us until the day she can associate "Home" with me, not him.

I grab her shoulders, pushing her away.

She looks worried. I shake my head and groan. "I'm sorry...but we can't..." 

Her eyebrows raise, and I see tears bubbling in her eyes. She's misunderstood and its all my fault. 

But she stays. She sticks around until I've finished. Thats what I love about her. She lets me explain, instead of running off and jumping to conclusions like everyone else in this shitty world does. 

"I want to, but your not with me yet. For as long as you call Fletcher your boyfriend, we can't go any further. Its not right. I understand whats going on, and I love you, very deeply. I'm behind you with this. You need to end it, before we can start this."

She nods, taking my words into consideration.

"I can't." 

I breathe in a sigh. In the back of my mind, I was prepared for this answer. But I didn't realize that I was severely underprepared until she spoke. I sigh once more, closing my eyes, wanting to disappear until this goes away, and we can be happy together.

But its obvious a happy ending wont happen with us.

"Then I can't do this."