This chapter has been gathering metaphorical dust on my hard drive for over a year now. It's probably my favourite part, except for maybe Prologue, but I've thought perhaps I should keep some of these parts for when I (hopefully) finish this book one day in the future. While writing the 'about' section for my brand spankin' new facebook page tonight though, I realised I started this blog to share my creative writings, so share them I shall!!
Just before I let you in on this part of the story that I've held so tightly to my chest though, for my dear Mother's sake (and my Aunty's, in case she reads this), I must clarify - I believe you need experience to write. It does not mean what I write is my own experience. Even though I have grown very fond of her, I am not Billie, or rather she is not me. Just a girl that I like...and that Sam might like a little as well...
So, without further ado, I introduce to you, Billie.
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The pulsating bass thumping through their bodies and the false confidence they'd been drinking all night meant slowly the'd get closer, closer. Their lips would meet hers, their peculiar tastes intriguing her as the music faded into the background. Then eventually, her friends would come to find her. It was time to leave.
The boy would beg her to stay, she'd decline. He'd promise to call, and then one last time pull her in by the waist, leaving their taste on her lips as she disappeared into the crowd. To find a taxi. To find a place to wipe off her powdered mask. To fall heavily to sleep.
The next morning, head sore, lips bee stung, she'd think about the boy. Usually, they sent her a message, did she want to meet them again? No sorry, it was a one off. She had been very drunk and she really was sorry.
She never thought of them again.
And then one night, she met Sam. She met Jim first, actually. Jim was the boy who came to find her as Sam watched on somewhere in the background.
Sam didn't seem all that interested. He watched the girl and felt sorry for her. Jim didn't really care, he was fiercely loyal but no need for loyalty to a drunk girl you met in a club. Eventually, her friends came to find her. Jim begged her to stay, she said no, so he kissed her one last time, watched her leave, and then went to find another.
She went outside to find a taxi, laughing with her friends, but when the fresh air hit her she stumbled. Tonight, she'd drunk more than usual. Life was shit. She wanted to feel better and cheap wine and colourful shots gave her that. At least, it gave her that until she stepped out of the club. She stumbled down the stairs, down the alleyway to the side, a boy appeared, the one that hadn't seemed interested, asked her if she was okay, and then she hurled.
And again. And again.
She shouldn't be here. Where were her friends? Why did her feet hurt so much? The fear made her yak some more and then the boy was next to her.
Maybe you should sit down hey? She looked bewildered.
I'm not... I'm not usually like this. The words took a long time to come out as she slumped to the ground.
Faarrk that stinks.
Do you wanna move? We'll go somewhere and take off your shoes?
I wanna go to sleep.
Orright, but not here k?
Upupup, let's go.
He lifts one limp arm around his neck, holds her waist, and gently picks the girl up. She drags her heels painfully across the ground until they find another alley, puke free, and she slides down against the wall again.
Where're your friends?
Orright. Sam laughs. How do I get you home?
Hm, so you're going to sleep here?
Hm-mm. Her eyes began to droop.
Shit... Hey, what's your name?
Orright, well what's your name?
Your parents hippies?
Well Billie, I don't reckon you wanna sleep here.
Yeah I do.
Nah, I'm gonna take you to mine ok? I promise I won't touch you, 'cept to put you on the bed. I'll have the couch, orright?
I'll take that as a yes.
Sam picked Billie up again. Billie said she wanted to go to sleep. The floor was comfortable. He should leave her there. Sam said he didn't think that was a good idea. Billie groaned, mumbled something about liquid confidence, fell asleep slumped against his arm. Sam put her in a taxi, carried her inside his house, took off her shoes and wiped her face with a cold, wet towel.
Despite the stench of cigarettes and puke, she was beautiful, and Sam thought of kissing her goodnight. He leant down, slowly, slowly. Her hot breath landed on him and he searched her features for some sign of consciousness, taking in her beauty. He could almost feel the skin of her lips on his, and suddenly, he recoiled.
He wiped his own face with the cold towel that he'd used to sponge off the vomit stuck to her dress. Sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. Sam kicked off his own shoes, flung his shirt into a corner and rested his head on his palms, staring out the open window for God knows how long, feeling like the dick he thought he was, until he saw a taxi pull in next door. Jim was home.
Sam snapped out of it, pulled an old stained foam mattress out from under his bed and feel heavily to sleep, hoping Billie wouldn't flip when she woke up hung over in a perfect stranger's bed.