On the Edge of Tomorrow

Chapter 8

We made it through a quarter of the movie before we devolved into a make-out session. We started innocently enough, a solid 10th grade PG romp, but it quickly escalated. Well, I intensified us, but Billy didn't stop me from sliding onto his lap.

After a few minutes, he pushed me back, and I slumped back to his knees. "You're blocking the movie."

"Oh, sorry," I moved further into his view. "Better?"

"Yes, much," he pulled me in for another brief kiss before pulling back again. "You're really not a fan of gentlemen."

"I have a fondness for a certain gentleman." As I spoke, I brushed his hair out of his face. "I missed you."

It came out of nowhere; the longing from all the months we had spent apart. Somehow, Billy always pulled the thoughts from me before I over-thought them.

He mimicked me by brushing a tendril of my hair back and tucking it behind my ear. "So, while you're trapped here. Have there really not been any... transients?"

I let the laugh burst from my chest. "Transients? Really?"

"I try," he teased, but also tensed, waiting for an answer.

"If I said yes?" I asked out of genuine curiosity.

"You have no commitments to me. I already admitted my indiscretions."

"Indiscretions. You better not let the ladies hear you talk about them like that, or a line may form out front."

"I'm not looking for a line." His focus was back, drilling into me. I slid from his lap, sensing the seriousness of his tone. "I deserve to know if we plan to continue."

"Continue. Pardon me while I swoon." His gravity was making me uncomfortable, triggering my sarcastic shield.

"Lil," he gently prodded, as though he were reading my mind.

"No," I answered him.

"No, you won't tell me? How bad can it be?" He pressed.

"While I appreciate you think I'm a sex addict. No, I haven't been with anyone since you. I told you; I'm not great with relationships." Embarrassment and annoyance mixed within me as I dropped my face from his gaze. He was quiet, letting the moment linger in the air. "Can you please say something?" I urged.

"You like me," his voice came in a childish sing-song.

"Are you serious right now?" I met his eyes and saw them sparkling with excitement. "You take my lack of sex as me liking you. Maybe I'm picky?"

"Oh, you're picky. Only the best for you, Lil. And who was the last one you were with?" He couldn't help himself; I had a sincere moment of concern that he may burst.

"You're becoming much less attractive to me." I shoved him, but he didn't budge.

"So, you admit you're attracted to me," he added.

"You're the worst." I shook him off and pulled myself off the couch, but he caught me by the hips.

"I'm sorry." He was sincere. "It's just..." He looked down over my face, inspecting me. "I'm sure you had ample opportunity, and it takes a strong will to be as selective as you are. I wish I were telling you the same thing."

"Well, I'm not a rock star." I shifted to see his face better.

"Can you please stop calling me that? I hate it." The teasing drained.

"Why do you hate it when I call you that? Isn't that your goal?"

"No, that's not my goal. Sharing my music, seeing people get into my work; that's my goal. Rock star makes it seem superficial like I want wealth and fame." His body shifted to ease a pain, but the discomfort wasn't physical, it came from deep within him.

"I get that. I don't envy you. Fame, celebrity; it's a different animal from Orson Welles and Jimmy Stewart. I couldn't do it. Strangers knowing things about me, seeking private things; I'd feel attacked."

"Helping, Lil."

"Sorry." My gaze returned to his face, but his eyes were downcast. "No concerns for me; I have zero talent."

"Entirely untrue." He brushed back the same tendril of my hair again. "This next album is different, Lil." He eased me off his lap and leaned forward, tugging on his hair. "It's an animal. It's going to get away from me or just die."

"What do you mean?"

"This album is a decision." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I'm sure I'm just overthinking."

"So, you came here not to think?" I poked him in the ribs.

"No, I came here to bring you with me. I need your help, Lil." His words were sobering. "You're still considering my offer, right?"

I wasn't. The moment I acknowledged the fear of the world Billy was diving into, my answer was clear, even if I wasn't ready to admit it to myself. Instead, I voyaged ahead.

"I am, but I have many questions."

He looked at me from the corner of his eyes, "okay."

"So, aside from the obvious, what are your worst qualities?"

"Wait, what does 'aside from the obvious' mean?"

"The obvious..." I shrugged knowing the uncertainty would eat away at his thoughts like a starving wolf. 

"Let's start with what you see as my worst qualities." He twisted to give me his undivided attention.

"Well, and again while we know a lot about each other, we've spent very little time in physical proximity to each other." 

He just gazed at me in a mixture of annoyance in intrigue. 

"Well, for starters, you're incapable of drinking a beverage from a glass with ice. I mean, Billy, it's simple physics."

"What are you talking about?" He raised his voice above his normal low volume.

"You over tip; you're an over tipper. It splashes all over your face and down your shirt. How do you not know to pre-tip?"

"Pre-tip? Are you kidding me right now?"

"Oh, sweetie, if only I were. Everyone knows you pre-tip to get the ice along the side of the glass, and then you sip with a subtle slant of the glass. You pour all over yourself like an 80s hairband chick."

"Okay, are we doing this? You hum... ALL THE TIME. And worse, you hum wrong."

"How can I hum wrong? There is no wrong way to hum."

"Oh, there is a wrong way to hum. You bounce around songs. When I think I know what song you're humming, you go off the page, and then you're back. It is disorientating."

"Well, you sweat... like all the time—back sweat. You're a little sweaty all the time. It's probably not serious, but I wouldn't say don't get it checked out."

His face twisted in some expression of awe and pure, searing annoyance. "Yeah, well, you say hi too many times." His words came quick like a machine gun.

"I say hi too many times? You say hi all the time." He did; it wasn't just me.

"Yeah, I got it from you. You answer the phone hello. Then I say hi. A normal person would begin a conversation, but not you; you say hi again. It's redundant."

I pursed my lips and said the only thing that was left to say. Eyes wide, I looked up at Billy's heated face, and with all the sweet innocence in me, whispered, "hi."

He let out a laugh. "You're maddening." He pulled me to him. His face came closer until I shut my eyes to enjoy the course of sensation he was about to send through me. "You're coming with me." His lips crashed into me.

My mind didn't blank this time. Billy's passion pressed into me, but it was more. I was closer, connected. I could see our entire story, him by my side, the clutch of his hand, and the late-night murmurs. As much as I wanted to focus on his lips dancing across mine, I pushed off. 

"I'm sorry, Billy."

He gaped at me, frozen for a long moment, hoping I was joking. But my face was honest. I wasn't going with him.