Best Thing In Town

I shrugged my shoulders, as if to say "maybe, maybe not" in response to him thinking I was a riot. I mean, I was confused, to be honest. How did he know I was a "riot"? I used to be quite rowdy and outgoing, but then things happened in my life, and I got quiet. My whole life got quiet.

He smirked, as if accepting some kind of challenge. "Don't worry, Logan. I'll figure you out. Watch." And then he casually sipped his water. And that was all there was to be said about that.

The whole entire time that I was at his house, my mind was running what seemed like a 4k marathon. So many thoughts were racing through my head, but no one thought seemed to be crossing the finish line. I was practically falling in love with his life--his house, his hands, him. But I knew that I couldn't be doing this. I promised myself that I'd never be one of those girls who were dependent. I needed to be independent. And I had spent the last year perfecting this part of my life. Although I wasn't any happier being independent than being dependent.

"Logan," Billie's voice piped up, snapping me from my thoughts. I tore my eyes away from the carpet and raised my eyebrows, showing him he had my attention. As if he didn't already. "I'm a shitty host." He laughed at his own observation, but seemed sincere.

"On the contrary, Billie," I started, stretching softly on the couch, "I am happy just to be in your presence." As soon as the words crossed the threshold of my lips, I knew I should have swallowed them before they reached the air. I was digging myself into a hole. A deep, dumb hole.

He smiled. And from that smile, I knew that he would figure me out. And all I could do was watch.

Sitting in his living room, I realized I was hopelessly entangled into Billie Joe Armstrong's spell. And that was that.