Worry Rock

His hands balled into fists as he grabbed fistfuls of the white duvet, his eyes snapping closed as his eyes rolled back while he pushed his head into my shoulder, biting his lip to try his best keeping quiet although it didn’t work. Whimpers that rolled from the back of his throat escaped through his lips along with my own as we both gave up trying to be quiet, the bedroom becoming full of moans and groans, each others’ name bleeding from our lips.

Billie Joe gasped, sucking in as much air as he could, the climax he had just reached taking away his breath while destroying his sense of his surroundings along with my own. He collapsed on top of me, his head resting comfortably on my chest as it rose and fell quickly, the sound of my heartbeat comforting him although it was beating as if I had just run miles without stopping.

I ran a hand through his damp hair slowly, my eyes also closing. “Fuck,” he mumbled, his eyes still closed, “that was fucking amazing.” He chuckled lightly. “I can’t even breathe.”

“I’m that good, huh?” I asked with cockiness as he always had after sex.

Billie Joe laughed. “You’re better than that good.” He paused, grinning cockily. “You’re almost as good as me.”

“That would mean that I’d have to lose some of my experience with sex.”

My husband opened his mouth and then scoffed. “I’m going to let you slide on that one because I cannot think of a response due to the fact that my mind is still trying to regain composure after the amazing sex I just had.”

I laughed lightly, wiping a bead of sweat that I had watched slowly drop off of a lock of his dark hair that hung over his forehead off of him. He smiled sweetly and leant in to kiss me, his lips sweet. He rubbed his nose against my own affectionately, his eyes soft. I felt his hand place itself on my stomach gently as he rubbed it softly in a circular pattern. The older man placed his head on my chest, over my breasts. “I love you.”

I smiled to myself at his words. They had been exchanged so many times that day, yet they still held as much meaning as the day we first said them. “I love you, too, darling.”

I felt Billie Joe grin against my still sweaty skin, kissing it softly. “How many times have we said that today?”

“Probably more times than most couples do in a lifetime.”

Billie Joe chuckled, rubbing his nose against my cheek before kissing it. I looked over at him and kissed him softly, smiling into the kiss.

I hated myself for it, too.

I didn’t want to forgive him this easily. I wanted to make Billie Joe feel pain for what he had done. He had hurt me in so many ways with the lies and the argument we had had the next morning, and within ten minutes of him entering the home the morning after we made out in the studio, we were fighting to get each other’s clothes off.

“We should get up,” I mumbled, pulling away from his lips to pull myself up out of bed, pulling part of the duvet with me until I could get hold of my undergarments, jeans and a t-shirt. Billie Joe stared at me, his heart dropping.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his brow knitting in confusion.

I shook my head, my back turned to him as I pulled the shirt over my head. “Sydney’s going to be home soon.”

Billie Joe looked at the clock. “It’s two-fifteen. She gets home at three.”

“Sometimes two-forty five.”

The soft patter of his footsteps and our breathing was the only sound in the bedroom for a moment until I felt Billie Joe’s hand on my shoulder and he spoke as he turned me around, him now in boxers. “What’d I do, Joe?” he asked.

I turned back around to face him, wanting to yell at him although I had told him everything was fine. The look on his face stopped me, as it would to anyone else.

The way he stood stopped me, and the way he watched me stopped me. He was like a little child standing there.

His head was bowed slightly as he stood slightly hunched over, his eyes peaking out from the top. His hand was resting in his pocket, fumbling with the fabric. The look on his face would have easily matched and child’s who was getting yelled at at the moment.

I scowled to myself and then slowly crossed over to where he stood, wrapping my arms around his tattooed torso. “I’m sorry,” I apologized.

“I’m confused.”

I shook my head, burying it in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around my lower back, pressing his body against mine as we stood in the middle of the room. Billie Joe hesitated, picking his head up from my shoulder. “Do you not forgive me? Is that it?”

Yes, Billie, darling, that must be it. After having make-up sex for the past five hours, laying in bed with you for hours cuddling with you and promising you that everything was going to be alright and that I would forgive your mistakes, I still do not forgive you. That must be it.

I shook my head once again, shaking off my thoughts. “No, no that’s definitely not it.” I thought for a moment. “Remember last year when you went to walk outside but Charlie accidentally tripped you and you scraped your arm badly?”

Billie Joe cocked an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Yes.”

“Billie,” I murmured, looking up at him. “You tripped me and I fell. As completely stupid, cheesy, corny – whatever, however it sounds it’s how I look at it.” He nodded slowly again, his eyes connected with mine, cracking a smile at his own thoughts. “I have a scab now,” I continued, “Where the scrape was, there’s a scab and I picked it open by accident.”

“I love your analogy,” Billie Joe said with a grin as he leant down to kiss me, knowing that things were alright.

I smiled to myself and kissed him back, wrapping my arms around him as we engaged in a hug. And it wasn’t an awkward hug, not even one that only lasted for a few seconds. His arms were wrapped loosely around my waist as my arms were wrapped around his neck, his chin resting on my shoulder as he nuzzled his nose into my neck.

We were hugging, a.k.a; cuddling while standing up.

***

We would have stayed in bed that day right up until Sydney came home, if it was up to us. But at half-past two, the silence with the exception of Billie Joe and my murmurs was broken by a doorbell ringing. Billie Joe groaned in protest as I went to get up. “Don’t go,” he groaned. “It’s probably some little fucking salesman, or someone to try to screw us on money because they think our house is nice. Goddamnit Joe, don’t let them trick you. Come get back to bed instead.”

I rolled my eyes at Billie Joe, him seeing so in my reflection in the mirror and mocking me. I slid a pair of his boxers and an over-sized t-shirt and ran a brush through my hair, pulling it up before I made my way downstairs to the door. I pulled it open, a man in a brown UPS uniform stood waiting. I smiled. “Hello.”

He smiled back at me and picked up a rather large box. “Here you go, ma’am.”

I hesitated, contemplating in my mind if I had the actual strength to pick up the package. “Thank you,” I said offering one more smile. The man tipped his had and walked off, down the steps and through the gates to where the top of the big brown truck could just barely be seen.

I stumbled back inside with the box and kicked the door closed with the back of my foot. I pushed myself into the lounge with the huge box and placed it on the floor slowly. I grabbed a pair of scissors to cut open the tape and then set them aside, the first thing I caught sight of being a card. I slid my finger underneath the fold and pulled it open, pulling the card out of its envelope.

Happy Birthday. Rather, late birthday by the time this gets to you, you old fart.

I was nice enough to dig up memories instead of getting you that puppy you’ve been asking for since you were five. I figured UPS and your husband wouldn’t like me too much if I tried to send one via mail. Enjoy and I wish you the best.

Love,
Adam & all.

I laughed to myself at my brother’s note, folding the card back up and placing it on the table. “BILLIE. CAN YOU COME DOWN HERE?”

It was so much easier to yell than to try to reach him any other way.

Within a few minutes, Billie Joe was stumbling down the stairs with a pair of boxers on, pulling a t-shirt over his head. He smirked when he saw my attire, made up of his clothing. “Nice outfit.”

I giggled as he came over to me and stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind while resting his head on my shoulder. I turned my head to kiss him, and he happily obliged. “I’m glad you like it, considering you bought them.”

He chuckled, rubbing his nose against the side of my cheek sweetly for a moment. His eyes slowly drifted down to the large box right in front of us. “Wassat?”

“A box,” I answered simply.

Billie Joe rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. I’m glad to see I can’t get a thing past you. Now, what’s in the box?”

I rolled my eyes back at him and pulled myself out of his grip to sit down on the carpet. Billie Joe sat down behind me Indian-style and pulled me into his lap, wrapping an arm loosely around my waist. I pulled the box closer to us and opened it up, over-flowing peanuts falling into me. I picked one up and twisted my torso around to face my husband, whose head had been resting back on my shoulder. I pushed a few of them down his Green Day: Warning! T-shirt that one of the companies had sent him a long time ago, causing him to gasp and pull his chest away from my back to look down. He pushed his hand down the collar of his shirt and pulled one out, throwing it at me lightly, snorting as it bounced off my nose. I grinned at his snort. “You geek.”

He scoffed. “And what if I am a geek?”

“Then you’re an incredibly adorable one.”

Billie Joe laughed softly, leaning in to kiss me. “What’s in the box?”

I turned back around, letting him press his chest against my back, peering over my shoulder. I handed him the card, and he opened it, his eyes scanning over my brother’s handwriting. He laughed. “Memories? Like what?”

I reached my hand into the box, not surprised as to why it had been so heavy – it was filled. My eyes widened. “Oh my god, no.”

“What is it?”

“My middle school yearbook.”

Billie Joe gasped loudly and threw the card next to him, taking his arm from around my waist to grab hold of the book. I jumped off of his lap and away from him. “No, Billie Joe, I was twelve years old. I forbid you to look at this.”

“Baby, I’m your husband. I’ve seen you curled around the toilet seat vomiting when you were pregnant, and at your absolute worst. Your pre-teen school picture has got nothing on what I’ve seen.”

I scowled. “That’s different. You’ll laugh and I’ll die form embarrassment. I’m saving myself by saying no.”

Billie Joe stuck out his bottom lip. “Now, that’s not fair. You’ve seen pictures of me with my damn afro hair from when I was five to into my teenage years. That shit leaked out onto the internet a long time ago. You’ve seen me that young. We’ve been married for twelve--,”

“Thirteen,” I corrected monotonously, although there was a smile dancing on my lips. No matter how much he tried, I don’t think he ever got the correct number of years. It was always a year behind or ahead.

Billie Joe blushed. “Thirteen. We’ve been married for thirteen years, and you won’t let me see your twelve-year old school picture?”

As he was talking, his hands had slowly placed themselves onto my own, and he was slowly sliding the hard-covered book out of my hand. I finally let go and Billie Joe grinned widely. He outstretched his left arm and wrapped it back around my waist, pulling me against his body. The older man went to sit down again on the wooden floors, pulling me with him, back onto his lap. I relaxed into his grip and rested my head on his chest as he outstretched his arms in front of us, thumbing through my yearbook slowly. “Your maiden name is Green, so that’s what you’d be under, yeah?”

“Maybe.”

My husband smirked and turned his head to kiss my forehead. “What grade? Sixth?” I groaned in protest like he had when I had gone to get up earlier, burying my head into his chest. He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It should be against the law to let your husband see you when you were younger,” I muttered into Billie Joe’s tattooed arm.

Billie Joe rolled his eyes and made a tutting noise. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” I asked, picking my head up to look at him.

The mid-forty year old placed his hand on my head to gently guide it back to his chest, wrapping his arm back around me as I placed my hand on his wrist and moved my head to just below his shoulder on his arm, liking the cuddling position we had just been in. “Acting as if you were like a little gremlin-looking creature during your school years.”

I started laughing. “My high school years weren’t terrible. Look, I’ll even show you those if my brother packed them. Just put this one down.”

“Oh, I’ll see those. But there’s not a chance of me putting this down.”

I scowled at Billie Joe. “Why couldn’t you look at the yearbook for when I was fourteen? I actually became aware of my surroundings, and I had a boyfriend so I wasn’t completely horrendous.”

“I’ll look at that one, too.”

I gasped loudly, reaching forward to grab the box. Billie Joe’s arm caught me, restraining me from grabbing any more yearbooks. “If you want to look back on all the memories, you’ll have to do it with me.”

“Oh who the hell died and named you king?” I spat. Billie Joe did his best to stifle a laugh at my attitude, but it was almost impossible.

“Your yearbook committee,” he purred into my ear, a sly grin fixed onto his lips.

I snarled a few angry words at Billie Joe as he giggled, still thumbing through the pages of my old yearbook. “Yeah, you laugh now,” I muttered under my breath. “Wait til’ the next time you’re horny.” Billie Joe looked up at me snickering, arching an eyebrow. “You won’t be laughing when you’re trying to get in my pants and I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh please, baby,” Billie Joe said rolling his eyes. “All I have to do is hump you for a few minutes or threaten to masturbate right there and you’re on top of me.” I mumbled to myself into his arm, causing him to grin more widely. He went to speak but cut himself off, gasping. “Oh my god. It’s little Joe.”

“Billie,” I moaned. “Please, as your loving wife, I’m asking you to put the book down now.”

“No, no, no. Oh my god, you were adorable.”

“Thank you,” I muttered.

My husband lifted his head to look up at me, grinning widely from looking at the younger me. He pushed his face closer to the book, my body being pushed as he moved. “You changed a lot,” he admitted.

“Yes, thank god.”

Billie Joe rolled his eyes again. “Stop being a bitch.”

I knew he didn’t mean it as an intentional insult, and I also knew that I was being a bitch. But I had a reason to be so. I hated the way I looked when I was younger, and I preferred that Billie Joe saw me from eighteen and older. “You stop being an ass.”

The rock star rolled his eyes playfully now, leaning down to kiss me. I smiled against his lips, sliding my hand back behind his neck, cupping the back of his head and playing with his hair. He took his mouth from my own, tilting his head back into my hand as I continued to play with the dark curls of hair on the back of his head. “Mmm,” he hummed, licking his bottom lip, “I love it when you play with my hair.”

“Charlie likes it, too.”

Billie Joe scowled, his eyes still closed with his head still tilted back. “Don’t ruin the moment with that mutt.”

I giggled, leaning closer to him, pushing my face into his neck. I kissed it softly for a moment and then pulled away, watching as he smiled numbly. I slid my hand down his neck and onto his shoulder, resting my head on the opposite one. “I love you,” I murmured.

Billie smiled again, opening his eyes. He lifted his head and looked down at me, gently caressing my lips with his own. “I love you too, baby,” he whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked slowly.

“For forgiving me.”

I grinned to myself, lifting my head from his shoulder to look at him. “There’s no reason to be grateful, darling.”

He went to protest but I pushed my finger against his lips as they pulled upwards into a grin that matched my own. We both shared one last kiss before I turned back around in his lap to face the large box sitting before us, pulling it closer. Billie Joe placed his head back on my shoulder, pressing his chest against my back like before with his arms wrapped around my waist as I turned to shove more peanuts down the front of his shirt, not knowing where else to put them.

I reached down, pulling out an envelope, labeled Family. I opened it and pulled out a large stack of Kodak pictures, the first two of Billie Joe and I cuddled on a couch. His eyes were closed with his head tilted back, his mouth hanging wide open. Billie Joe blushed at that and I giggled. I was curled up next to him, my eyes opened as I looked down at a baby Sydney.

I switched that picture to the back of the pile, the next one making me blush and look away. It was a picture of my brother and I laughing, Billie Joe with a large grin on his face with his arm resting back around my neck. It was when Adam had flown out to California with his fiancé when I was pregnant with Sydney. Seven months pregnant, to be exact. I was huge.

Billie Joe took the picture and smiled down at it, his eyes looking from the three of us in it down to my stomach. He placed his head next to my ear and kissing just behind it slowly. “I can’t wait for you to look like that again.”

I did everything possible not to tense in that man’s arms right there and then and I silently thanked god that he was so engulfed in the picture not to see me. I probably looked like a fool, but my emotions had just skyrocketed along with my thoughts. He still wanted a baby now? Right now when we had just started, not even completely made it, but just started to get over his disgusting behavior that was controlled by his lies?

I started to wonder if I was just overreacting, but I shook it off. A few weeks, even days ago I would have grinned and nodded, and then made a smart-ass comment about my whale-like features – but this was different.

I didn’t even trust the man all that much right now. I had no trust or faith in this man right now, and he wanted another baby, still?

Of course he still wanted a baby. He wasn’t fazed by this as much as I was. Or well, of course he was hurt by this whole birthday bash drama, but he didn’t realize that it wasn’t the greatest time to bring up the birth of another child.

And there was no simple way to tell him that I was surprised and slightly against his comment. It was a perfectly harmless comment, he wasn’t trying to say anything to hurt me or make me as confused and bewildered as I was. But it was hard not to be. After all this, I didn’t want a baby.

Oh, yes I did. I definitely wanted another baby; that was out of the question. I was the one who brought the idea of being pregnant up again. But I didn’t want one now. Not when I was starting to forgive, but not at all forgetting.

Billie Joe looked up from the picture and over to me, arching an eyebrow. “Are you alright, hon?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up at Billie, forcing a sweet and reassuring smile. I kissed him softly and nodded. “I’m fine.”