Behind Billie

Three

Selena: my gender stans a man that can cook.

Jack: my gender stans a woman that replies fast.

Selena: my gender stans a man that loves cats.

Jack: my gender stans a woman that stalks our i********:.

Selena: your cat is so cute by the way!

Jack: not as cute as you.

Selena: still want to make your sister jealous with that selfie?

Jack: Of course!

Selena: let's take the selfie tonight.

Jack: I'm confused. In a good way.

Selena: come over.

Jack: I'm more confused now. In the best way.

Selena: you can cook at my place and we can take that selfie. Make your sister so so jealous.

Jack: I'm game.

I shove back my phone in my pocket, smiling sheepishly at the moon. This is the craziest thing I've ever done! And this is probably the craziest night of my life! I've spent the whole day frowning and faking smiles. This is the first time I'm smiling. And I'm smiling at the moon.

Happy birthday to me.

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I wanted to put on something stunning but ended up settling for a big black t-shirt and denim shorts. I toss my hair in a messy bun when the doorbell rings.

Jack shows up at my door in a beautiful black tuxedo, carrying fresh flowers and expensive chocolate.

"Happy birthday, Selena." He says with that gorgeous grin that shows off those gorgeous teeth. Everything about this man is just gorgeous. Especially his gorgeous green eyes.

"How did you know?" I ask, closing the door as he walks in.

"Google has a big mouth." He replies, his eyes darting around the house. "And you have a beautiful home."

I've lived in this penthouse for two years now. Every time I have a guest, they gush about how perfect this place is. The glass walls give a dreamy view of the busy city below. The cream curtains fall from the white ceiling to the white marble floor. The massive flatscreen television mounted to the wall makes the house look like a cinema. The cute cream couches still look so new and perfect after two hard years of lying and crying on them. The square stone table with decor books sits on a soft fluffy rug. The cracking fire in the fire chambers is where I've read lots of books and drunk lots of wine. My best spot in this house is the big balcony with big pots of green plants - I love the surreal sunset views.

"Thanks," I say to Jack when he compliments my home. "And thanks for the flowers."

I take the fresh flowers and dip them in a brown vase in the kitchen. I unwrap the bar of chocolate and take a bite.

"I'm obsessed with dark chocolate."

"My sister said you'd love it." He says. "I told her we met. Like I told you, she didn't believe me."

"Let's facetime her."

"What?" He's shocked. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." I take another bite. "We are here to make your sister jealous, remember?"

He swiftly pulls out his phone and frowns after a few minutes.

"She's offline." He says. "We can do that next time."

But there won't be a next time. I just called him here today because I was sad and lonely and depressed and I needed someone to kiss me on my twenty-fifth birthday.

Yes, I'm twenty-five! I must be the most confused twenty-five-year-old on the planet. This is the year that most people have their s**t together and live their big dreams and settle down with their hot husbands and beautiful babies but not me. My life is pathetic. My love life is pathetic. My career is pathetic. My friendships are plastic and pathetic. The only good and stable thing in my life is my perfect parents.

This morning, I talked to them for hours on the phone and they wished me a happy birthday. They said they are so proud of me and they wish I could come home to celebrate with them but I lied that I'm busy. Yes, I'm a pathetic daughter who is also a pathetic liar. I went to a pathetic party with pathetic people instead of going home to my sweet sweet parents. I welcomed a stranger into my home to get drunk with him instead of being home with my sweet sweet parents. I haven't gone home for almost two years now. The worst part is that I don't have a solid excuse. My sisters keep complaining about it. My brothers keeps complaining about it. My parents keep complaining about it. And I just keep constantly lying about it. Like I said, I'm a pathetic piece of shit

"I wanna cook for you." It sounds sexier in person when Jack says that. "You like rice and chicken?"

"Who doesn't?" I giggle as I watch him take off his tuxedo jacket. He's now left in a white shirt with long sleeves that hugs his big biceps and shows off his big broad chest.

"Are you a gym bro?" I can't help but ask as he follows me to the kitchen.

"Describe gym bro."

"Bro who goes to the gym. Bro who loves the gym. Bro who eats and sleeps in the gym. Bro who lives in the gym. Are you that bro?"

"My job is very demanding," Jack says. "I can't afford to be a gym bro. I've just gone to the gym once. Not to work out. But to beat the s**t out of my sister's boyfriend. He was a cheating asshole."

"Awww! I want to be your sister?"

"Ew, no." He flinches. "I want to f**k you."

Awkward silence stretches between us. He's staring at me. I'm staring at him. I can't believe he said that. He can't believe he said that. We both can't believe he said that.

"I... I..." He stutters. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant -"

"You don't want to f**k me?" I cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, I want to f**k you." He laughs. "All the men in the world want to f**k you. Have you seen yourself? You're so fuckable."

"You're so fuckable too." I giggle. "And I want to f**k you tonight, Jack."

His face turns red from severe blushing. He doesn't meet my eyes as he folds his sleeves. He can't believe I just said that. I can't believe I just said that. It's probably the wine and cocktails I've had throughout the day. But I don't regret saying it.

"We can do that later." He smiles, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I have to feed you first. You need the energy for the things I'm about to do to you."

That statement makes my throat dry up instantly. I swallow hard as I look away. He's making me blush. Damn it.

"Get me onions and garlic and tomatoes and cucumbers and carrots and coriander." He says, grabbing the knife and a chopping board. I smile watching him move around the kitchen with ease like he's been here before. Like he belongs here.

He chops the onions and garlic so swiftly and diligently before moving to the tomatoes and cucumbers and carrots and coriander He's just as swift and diligent again. To add to that, he cooks the aromatic rice so fast. It's done within a few minutes.

"You said your job is very demanding." I pour myself some wine, leaning on the counter. "What do you do, Jack?"

"I'm a chef." He says. "A professional chef."

"Interesting," I say. "Hope this doesn't sound rude but why were you doing the dishes at Billie's house if you're really a chef? Are you a Jack of all trades or what?"

He chuckles at that.

"I tend to make a big mess of the kitchen when I cook. Cleaning up the mess when I'm done is my hobby." He smiles. "Making the client happy is my number one priority. Delicious dinners and clean kitchens make clients very very happy."

"Nothing can make Billie happy. Trust me. Not even leaving her kitchen spotlessly clean." I make him chuckle. "The food was good. It was actually the best part about the stupid party."

"You hate parties?"

"I hate parties with popular people." I huff. "They are the most plastic people with the most plastic hearts. They'll talk s**t about you in your f*****g face just to make their fake friends laugh."

My phone rings loudly in the living room, interrupting our conversation. I drag myself out of the kitchen to pick up the phone lying on the stone table.

Billie is calling. Here we go again. Something bad has happened and she needs me. Badly.

I wish I could ignore the call but I can't. She'll call a million times. If I switch off my phone, she'll show up at my door. Fast and Furious.

"Steve is trying to destroy me!" Billie snaps. "That ugly pig is trying to destroy me! You should be here to support me! You are my best friend! I need you now! Right this second!"

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