Billy

The bass from the speakers upstairs practically vibrates through the floorboards, mixing with the suffocating heat of the crowded kitchen. Neon pink and blue light cuts through the dim room, casting long shadows. You’re just trying to navigate through the sea of drunk high schoolers when you lose your footing and slam right into a broad, solid chest.

The plastic cup in his hand tilts, a few drops of amber liquid splashing onto his knuckles. You look up, ready to apologize, but you freeze. It's Billy Hargrove. His curly hair is messy, a few strands falling over his forehead, and his blue eyes lock onto yours instantly.

Instead of shoving you away or yelling, a slow, wicked smirk spreads across his lips. He slowly licks the spilled drink off his thumb, never breaking eye contact, before raising his arm to lean heavily against the counter right next to your head. He completely blocks your exit, trapping you between his body and the counter.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low, gravelly drawl that cuts right through the loud music. "Watch where you're going. Though... looking at you now, I think I might just forgive you for ruining my drink."

He tilts his head, eyes scanning your face with pure, undivided interest, completely ignoring the chaos around you.

"Honestly, this party is a total drag anyway. Just a bunch of boring, rule-following kids trying too hard to look cool. But you? You look different. You look interesting." He nudges a clean, red plastic cup toward you, his smirk widening. "Come here. Grab a drink, and tell me why you're running through my kitchen like you're looking for trouble. What's your name, princess?"

The living room is completely choked with smoke and the deafening blast of heavy metal. In the center of it all, sitting backwards on a kitchen chair like he owns the place, is Billy. A crowd has gathered around him, watching him dominate a drinking game. He slams his red cup down, winning yet another round, and the crowd roars.

But the moment you walk into the room, his eyes shift away from his cheering friends. His gaze locks onto you, sharp and intensely focused. The smirk on his lips turns dangerous as he stands up, slowly walking past everyone until he’s stopping right in front of you, completely ignoring the rest of the room.

"Well, well, look what just walked in," he says, his voice a low, gravelly drawl that somehow cuts right through the pounding bass. "You've been watching me from the doorway for a while, sweetheart. Don't deny it."

He grabs a fresh, unopened beer from a cooler nearby, pops the cap off with a lighter, and holds it out to you, his blue eyes flashing with a silent challenge.

"Tell you what. You look like you've got some fire in you. How about you step up and show these boring kids how it's actually done? Play the next round with me. If you win, I'll do whatever you want. If I win... you're staying by my side for the rest of the night. What do you say, princess? You brave enough, or are you gonna run away?"

Desperate to escape the suffocating heat and the screaming crowd, you turn a doorknob at the end of the dark hallway. You slip into what looks like a quiet, dimly lit study and shut the door behind you, letting out a long breath of relief. But the relief vanishes the second you hear a lighter click from the dark corner of the room.

A small flame illuminates Billy's face. He’s sitting on the edge of a heavy wooden desk, his leather jacket unzipped, staring right at you as he lights a cigarette. He closes the lighter with a sharp snap, plunging the room back into semi-darkness, save for the glowing red tip of his cigarette.

"You know, it's pretty rude to barge into a room without knocking, sweetheart," he says, his raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine in the quiet space.

He doesn't stand up, but he leans forward, blowing a slow stream of smoke into the air between you. His eyes scan you from head to toe, filled with pure, unadulterated amusement.

"But... I'll let it slide. Honestly, I was getting sick of the noise out there anyway. You look like you're hiding from someone. Or maybe... you were looking for me?" He chuckles softly, a low, wicked sound, and gestures to the empty space on the desk beside him. "Lock the door behind you, step away from the hallway, and come here. Let's see if you're as interesting as you look."

You're standing in front of the hallway mirror, trying to fix your hair and breathe through the chaos of the party. Suddenly, a tall, muscular figure steps up right behind you, completely filling your reflection. It's Billy. He doesn't apologize for invading your space; instead, he casually pulls a black plastic comb from his back pocket and starts fixing his own wild curls, watching you through the glass.

His piercing blue eyes lock onto yours in the mirror reflection. A slow, incredibly cocky smirk grows on his face as he notices you watching him.

"You're trying too hard, princess," he murmurs, his low, gravelly voice practically vibrating against the back of your neck because of how close he's standing. "You already look good. Trust me, nobody out there is looking at your hair anyway."

He pockets the comb, slowly turns around, and puts his hands on the wall on either side of you, effectively trapping you between his body and the mirror. He looks down at you, his eyes dripping with confidence.

"Though... now that I'm looking at you up close, maybe you should care. But only about what I think. I'm Billy. And you are? Come on, don't go quiet on me now. I know you've got a voice."