AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Billie flattens her mouth into a grim line.
Part of her, maybe, is jealous their fake bullshit relationship and ‘love’. Because Preston and Billie are many things as a couple, but fake isn’t one of them.
It’s all too fucking real.
It got them a nice little nickname.PB. Like peanut butter.
Without the jelly to make it work, Trevor once said.
The nickname changed over the years. Now, it’sHurricane PB.
Not original, but that’s the one she hears the most, the one that rattles her to her core… and the one that’s truest.
Preston and Billie have been rocky since the day they met. Literally rocks were thrown. But they make no lies about who they are, pretend nothing more than toxicity that eats them up inside and explodes in tears and hate-fucks.
Kate sees something in Trevor that she shouldn’t. A future, and all that a future with someone like him could mean—
Better education. Better networking and career opportunities. Better finances.
An escape from the Southside of Dosserport.
Billie knows Preston is an escape for her. But more of an escape from her reality once he leaves for the city—permanently.
And that’s coming soon.
One more month and her first and only love will be gone. A memory.
So, as Trevor swaggers his way up to the girls, Billie’s eyes behind the darkness of the shades turn on the one waiting in the idling car.
Her Elliot, her Preston.
And she feels sorrow instead of hope.
“Might see you tomorrow then,” Billie says, irked that Kate ignored her in the presence of the almighty Trevor, and waves a goodbye to them both as she heads down the paved path.
Idling at the curb, the black convertible Cadillac purrs like royalty. So quiet and gentle compared to the beastly groans and shouts and cranks of her truck.
It’s as sleek asheis. A plain black t-shirt he could’ve picked out at Target, but it wouldn’t matter because, on him, it looks expensive. Costly quality.
He wears the arrogant class like an elegant cloak. Reclined in the driver’s seat, but not hunched or too relaxed; elbow resting on the edge of the door and his fingers loose on the side of the steering wheel; and his shiny not-a-scratch-in-sight Ray Bans perched on his fine nose.
He bought her a pair of those shades, the ones she wears now. Might be the most expensive thing she owns, behind her truck.
Preston turns as the sound of her lazy steps, all that scuffing racket, nears his car. His face is impassive, doesn’t shift in the slightest, and his eyes hidden behind the shield of his sunglasses—but his affection for her is to be found elsewhere.
She tosses her backpack onto the rear seats. It lands with a thump before rolling off the white leather and hitting the floor. Billie pays it no mind, and neither does he, as she climbs over the door and flops herself down on the seat.
That’shis affection.
If anyone else had climbed and clambered all over his white leather seats, he would have something to say about it. Billie could probably slap the guy’s grandmother, and he’d kiss her.
Blinded fool.
Both of them.
Holding on to something never meant to last.
Silence is their greeting to each other.
