The Artist / Billie Eilish

Chapter 28

Billie's POV

Fiddling awkwardly with my fork, I glanced out of the window next to me at the few paparazzi having a field trip with all of this new material.

This was totally going to bite me in the ass.

I was supposed to go on a date with Rose tonight. I'd already planned it all; I found a nice restaurant by the beach, and I called them in advance to rent it out for the night. I had set up the place with candles, and planned to come here just as it was nearing getting dark, with my album playing quietly in the background just to make her laugh.

And, here I was. All of that happened.

But it was fucking Q sitting in front of me, slurping up spaghetti like a gross, loud, vacuum cleaner douchebag.

I grimaced as I watched him, my already non-existent appetite definitely gone for the evening as I placed down my fork, trying to ignore the constant flashes of light from outside.

This was all Steve's fault.

He'd heard me whilst I was on the phone to the restaurant, and hyped about how much of a 'fabulous' idea it was, calling Q to tell him my plan before I could even tell Rose.

She had no idea we're here - hell, she probably thinks I stood her up. I hadn't had any texts or calls from her, and the thought of her all dressed up in her room waiting for me to knock made my heart ache.

Q smiled through his pasta-filled mouth, leaning back in his chair.

"So," he mumbled almost incoherently, wiping his lips on his napkin. "A PR relationship, huh? Damn, bro. Lucky you."

He winked as I rolled my eyes, looking down at my rings as I saw him glance out of the window, throwing up a peace sign at the cameras.

"How's this finna go down, then? You set up the date, so what were you planning? A first kiss? A proposal? We fucking on the table or what?" He sniggered, digging back into his pasta as I watched him disgustedly.

"None of the above, dick. I didn't plan this night for you. So if you could just hurry up and murder that spaghetti faster than you already are, that'd be pretty great."

He raised his eyebrows, swallowing his mouthful before whistling, shaking his head. "No need to get bitchy now..."

I ignored his comment as I pulled out my phone, my obvious lack of attention not hindering him from talking.

"You know we've gotta give them something, right? Ain't you provided by contract to have a PR relationship with me?"

I quickly glanced up at him as he watched me expectantly, gesturing to the window - the paparazzi pausing from taking photos.

Sighing, I knew we were going to have to give management something to prove we'd actually gone through with their demands. I wasn't going to waste away on this 'date' if after all of it they didn't deem it relationshippy enough.

But... All I could think about was Rose. The thought of her scrolling through Twitter or something after being stood up by me, and then seeing me on a date with the guy who groped her in the greenroom yesterday?

That's not how I want this to go down. At all.

I leant forward onto the table, resting my chin in my hands as I exhaled, closing my eyes and thinking. It was all so overwhelming. I barely knew this Q guy, he was obviously the biggest douchebag on the planet, and for some unknown reason I couldn't spit it out to Rose that I had to be in a PR relationship with him.

She already knew the PR card was on the table, so why couldn't I just tell her it was happening? This was my own fucking fault.

I opened my eyes with the intent of grabbing my phone and just explaining all of this to Rose so I could get the evening over with, when I felt a hand quickly snake around the back of my neck, pulling me in.

My lips crashed against Q's crusty-ass lips instantly, and he forcefully shoved his tongue into my mouth; the cameras outside going absolutely crazy.

I shoved him away as fast as I could, but it wasn't fast enough, and I watched horrified as the paparazzi scurried away into the night, no-doubt desperate to be the first to upload their goldmine photos.

Q smirked, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms, raising his eyebrows at me. "You're welcome," he mumbled as I could barely hear anything, blind panic ringing in my ears.

My hands shook as I felt my phone start to continuously vibrate next to me, switching it on to see my Instagram comments blowing up, as well as confused texts from Finneas, Claudia, Ethan...

Ethan.

Ignoring whatever the hell Q was saying now, I slid Ethan's text open and noticed he had sent about 4 messages.

The first was a picture. You can guess what of.

Ethan sent an attachment
Ethan: are you fucking serious right now, Billie?
Ethan: do you even realise what you've done?? did rose mean nothing to you this whole time? she said earlier you were taking her on a date tonight, so i'm confused
Ethan: bro she is such a mess right now. I hope you're happy with yourself.

My breathing picked up as I heard my heartbeat pound through my skull, my shaking fingers swiping away from that message to open Finneas'.

Finn: I just saw the pictures... I'm sorry, Bil. Fuck. We'll sort this out, I promise.

A slight sense of relief washed over me after I read my brother's message, but the ultimate dread of Rose's reaction was enough for me to near forget how to breathe.

Claudia's message was the last one I read before darting out of the restaurant, hearing Q clambering along behind me.

Claudia: I know you and Rose aren't officially dating, but you obviously have something special together, Billie. You need to come back right now. Fix this.

Claudia: Did you have plans tonight or something? She's so upset, dude. She won't let anyone in her room apart from Ethan.

Claudia: Good luck. ❤️