Hey! I'm so sorry for NOT being able to update these past few days and I feel so guilty :( The fair came to a close and, well...
I promise that I'll update more frequently now. I promise on Mikey's unicorn, I will.
Chapter Seventeen: “How’d You Stay So…Kind?”
- Chelsea -
It’s weird, being all over Billie’s back like this but I guess this is much better than the kind of carrying where we’d have no choice but to face each other.
God, the last thing I wanted is to see those green eyes of his.
As we got closer to the parking lot, the sun began to set and the orange streetlamps littering the campus started flickering to life. We neared his brother’s (he explained it to me on our first ‘date’) car, he lowered me on the ground.
He opened the car door and held it for me, “get in.”
I nod before going in. I wait for a few moments until Billie got to the other side and closed the door with a loud thud.
“I won’t let you go home just yet, though,” Billie mentioned as we got out of the gate and started on the main road. My eyes squinted in confusion.
“W-what? But, where would you take me…?” I stuttered but all he did was chuckle and grin.
“You’ll see.”
We passed by my street but didn’t make the left to go to my house, instead, we just drove straight ahead until we get to the last street and made a right. I suddenly became familiar of the road we are now in.
“We’re near the pier, right?”
It took Billie a moment to answer, “uh-huh but we’re not going there.”
We took a left on Willow Street and stopped in front of a humble house. Billie parked in front of the gate and got out. I did the same thing as well, with Billie supporting me.
I-Is this…? My eyes darted to the mailbox and, as expected, there it was, written down and painted with gold: Armstrong.
“Your parents -- !”
He cut me off, “they won’t care, c’mon.”
And I, reluctantly, let Billie lead the way.
-
“Billie, sweetie, do you know where -- ?” a tall, dark haired woman appeared from the kitchen right after Billie called out that ‘I’M HOOOMEE!’ “And, who is this young lady?” her eyes flickered to mine and I averted my eyes to the ground, not wanting to see her expression.
Billie chuckled, “mom, this is Chelsea, a friend of mine.”
My heart lurched painfully. Ouch. And a while ago you were telling those cheerleaders that I was your girlfriend… “hello, Mrs. Armstrong,” I finally looked up.
Instead of the frown and disapproving gaze I was expecting, she was sporting a huge smile. “Oh, Billie, you didn’t tell me you’re having guests over! What did I tell you about that, huh? Oh,” she turned to me, “call me Ollie, please. Mrs. Armstrong sounds way older than I do,” she ended with a giggle.
“Okay, Ollie...” I have to admit, it feels weird to have the name of your ‘boyfriend’s’ mom fall from your lips.
“Oh, mom, I’ll just bring her upstairs and then you can call us back down or something, ‘kay? Love you!” he called out and pulled me to the direction of the stairs.
No words were said until I was pulled into Billie Joe Armstrong’s room.
“Wow…you’re pretty neat for a guy,” I remarked at his desk, which was hardly littered with anything and his carpeted floor, where I was expecting to find used/unused clothes on. The walls were filled with posters of bands but, that’s about the only giveaway that this room belongs to a teenager.
Heh, neat freak.
“Well, don’t judge a book by its cover,” he winks as he sits me down on his bed. “Stay there, I’ll just get something,” he looks at me one last time before disappearing through his bedroom door, returning with a bowl of ice two minutes later.
He sets them down near my feet, “roll up your pants.”
I follow him obediently, having a clue as to what was going to happen. I stop a few inches above my ankle.
“Alright, this is cold so…yeah. Don’t scream,” he warns me playfully before wrapping up an ice cube inside a cotton cloth and pressing it lightly then firmly on my ankle. I bite my lip.
“Does it hurt?” he asked; I shook my head.
“It’s just the temperature.”
He smiles and continues to hold the cloth to my ankle and, I swear, I can hear him singing something familiar.
“Are you a fan of Green Day?” he suddenly asks. I nod my head excitedly.
“Yeah, I got pretty freaked at the poster you have of them over there,” I point out and he laughed. “You kinda look like the lead vocalist, actually…now that you’ve mentioned it.”
“You like ‘im? The lead vocalist, I mean?” he tilts his head, looking up at me slowly.
I shrug, looking down at him, trying to prevent myself from giggling out loud.
“What would you do about this?” he asks, pointing at my bruised ankle.
“Nothing, I guess…it’s really not in my nature to fight back or even get involved in those things,” I smile, pushing the topic away. I really don’t want to talk about this yet.
“But they’ve been taunting you ever since you entered this school! Why won’t you do anything about it? You know what, I’ll help you with your plan…whatever it would be,” he babbled on and stopped when he realized he was rambling.
I smiled at his bashful expression; he looks cute, “I guess I just can’t be bothered with it, you know. Like, they’re going to be there all the time and they’re going to be mocking me all the time and they’re not going anywhere. So what’s the point?”
His face is now neutral, void of all emotion. “How’d you stay so…kind? It’s quite, y’know, fascinating how you seemed to have control of yourself.”
I shrugged, “That’s what my parents used to tell me as well, they never understood me, either. I really don’t know how I had this mentality but it’s just there…I don’t know.”
The ice melted pretty soon and he stood up, going inside his bathroom to probably leave the bowl there. He went back inside his room in time to see me rolling down my pant leg once again.
“Are you okay now?” he asks as he takes the space beside me.
“Yeah,” I beam at him. “Thanks, Billie.”
I STILL FEEL GUILTY, I'M SO SORRY IF I'VE BEEN KIND OF NEGLECTING YOU GUYS, I STILL LOVE YOU <3 (and I hope you still love me, too).
xo,
T.