A/N - This chapter was inspired by the song No Good Advice by Girls Aloud, which I recently rediscovered and became obsessed with. I hope you all enjoy it.
You don't really know how you'd become friends with one of the most arrogant people to ever cross your paths. Billy was one of the least friendly people to ever grace the halls of Hawkins high. He was a bad influence on everyone he came into contact with. He was the guy that mothers warned their daughters about. But somehow, you'd made him your friend and now it had become pretty common for the two of you to spend your time outside of school together too.
Most nights ended up the same way, you'd sit in his car with a pack of cigarettes and listen to music and chat shit until you got bored. Then, he would drop you home and wait for you to let yourself through the front door before he went peeling off down the street.
Your mother had made it very clear that she didn't approve of your choices, time and time again. You'd stopped listening after a while, finding it easier to just nod along rather than getting into a fight over something you knew you wouldn't be changing any time soon.
"Can you believe it?" you murmured, letting your head lull to the side to look at Billy, finding him already watching you. "She told me that I'm not going to get into heaven because I've been staying out late and having fun," you pressed on.
"She thought you were going to heaven before this?" he teased, a smirk pulling at his lips when you rolled your eyes at him.
"Apparently so," you grumbled. "Said I needed to start sleeping better too, called it beauty sleep," you murmured, shaking your head as you return your attention to the windshield. "Fucking ridiculous-"
Billy let out a soft hum. "If you got any more beauty sleep, you'd be a distraction," he hummed. "You're already too hot as it is; can't go getting hotter."
You tried to bite back the smile that played on your lips. You were friends, and sure, Billy liked to flirt every now and then, but it wasn't ever going to be anything more than that. He wasn't the relationship type, and up until very recently, you had thought the same about yourself.
"Well, try telling her that. She thinks I need to be more of a lady, which I'm pretty sure just means longer skirts and no cleavage. Can't risk showing my ankles or people will think I'm a total whore-"
The sharp bubble of laughter that slipped out of Billy caught you off guard. It was a proper deep belly laugh, the sort that you didn't get to hear from him very often.
"Oh yeah, your ankles are so sexy, Baby. They really get me going," he chuckled, leaning in a little closer. "Let me see those pretty calves," he pressed on, snorting with laughter when you shoved his head away.
"Idiot," you muttered, shaking your head.
You were frowning when he stopped laughing, his brow furrowing slightly. "Are you really upset that she thinks you won't get into heaven?" You shrugged slightly, all too aware that the conversation was getting deeper than you were used to. It didn't usually get so emotional when you hung out with Billy. "Heaven would be boring anyway. Full of all those do-gooders." He paused for a moment, watching you carefully. "Besides, why would you want to end up there when I definitely won't?"
"They think I'm crazy. Heard my mom's friend telling her that they need to reign me in. She thinks I'll end up pregnant or drugged up or in prison-"
"I wouldn't let you end up in prison, Sweetheart," he hummed, interrupting you. "And frankly, the idea of you taking drugs is laughable. You hate not being in control; you don't even like drinking too much."
"And pregnant?"
"Well, that doesn't seem like the worst thing, does it?" he murmured. "I mean, in comparison to drug problems and prison, having a baby seems pretty nice," he added.
You finally cracked a smile. "Good girls don't get pregnant in high school."
He shrugged. "There isn't a soul alive that thinks you're a good girl," he told you.
"Hey," you bit out, mouth hanging open in horror.
He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying," he started. "Right now, it's eleven-thirty on a school night and you're here with me, smoking and listening to Def Leppard in my car. That's not exactly what good girls do, is it?" You hummed out an agreement, looking a little frustrated. "Doesn't matter though, does it? You're still my best girl."
You felt your breath catch in your throat at his comment, your head shooting over to look at him with wide eyes. "What?"
"I-" he paused for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right words. "You're really hot," he finally murmured. "And you're funny. And when the little dance you do when you're eating something good is really cute." He cleared his throat. "I just really like you, but I totally get it if you don't feel the same way about me."
You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. "Of course, I like you," you uttered. "Do you really think I'd spend all this time sitting around listening to this shit if I didn't?" you added, a small smile pulling at your lips.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you confirmed softly. "So, I'm your best girl, huh?"
He snorted with laughter, reaching out to take your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "That's going to stick around, isn't it?"
"It was cute," you chuckled.
"It was cheesy as fuck," he disagreed. "But if you liked it then I guess I can keep saying it," he added.
You nodded, biting your bottom lip. "I liked it," you confirmed.
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