Sequel: Oakland: A Tour Diary ›
Status: finished. thank you all so much. <3
I Left My Heart in San Diego
FIVE
Billie and I hadn't left our positions on his couch except that now Billie had a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers by the neck. He would take swigs every so often, and sometimes I would ask for a swig, which he willingly gave me, along with a small kiss every now and again.
"So this is basically a day in the life of Billie Joe Armstrong," Billie said, taking a swig of his beer.
"Creeping on your new neighbor, falling asleep with her in her bed, inviting her to your band practice, then turning her into your lovesick bitch?" I asked, smiling and stealing Billie's beer bottle.
"Okay, well then this is basically an afternoon in the life," Billie said, making a face as he rephrased.
"Inviting your new neighbor to your band practice and turning her into your lovesick bitch?" I asked, with undertones of sarcasm.
"Okay, so maybe you'll have to catch me on another day," Billie finally admitted, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "This day wasn't so typical."
I laughed and snuggled into Billie, my head on his chest. We were on the floor; Tre kicked us off when he wanted to lay out and Mike was spread out on the love seat smoking.
Billie kissed the top of my head as my phone rang. I pulled it out, bracing myself for a verbal barrage from my mother. "Hello?" I answered.
"ARIZONA LEIGH WILLOWS! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?? We were supposed to meet the principal of your new school an hour and a half ago!" my mother yelled, loud enough that Billie heard it, and gave me a shocked look.
I smiled. "I'm at Billie's, Mom," I said, and then realized she had no idea who that was. "Billie Joe Armstrong. He lives in the cul-de-sac, one of our new neighbors."
"Well, it's nice that you're making friends, but if you don't get your ass back to this house in ten minutes, you will have some serious explaining to do, and not just to me." My mom abruptly hung up.
Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I sat up from my position on Billie's chest. "My mom will have my ass if I'm not back home in ten minutes, so I better split," I said, stretching and using the couch as a support as I stood up.
Billie stood up as well, taking his half-empty beer bottle to the kitchen. There was some clinking, glass on glass, two runnings of the faucet, and then Billie returned, two tall glasses of water in his hands. "Drink," he said, thrusting one at me.
I took the glass and downed it in about four gulps, Billie finishing his about the same time and taking the glasses back to the sink. Taking me by the hand, he placed a bright green-wrapped object in my hand, stopping by the trash can on the way to his front door. "Start chewing as soon as possible. That way, your breath won't smell so badly of alcohol," he said, shoving one in his mouth and throwing out the wrapper.
As I started chewing, my eyes watered slightly from the intense mint taste. "Holy shit, Billie, are you trying to burn the alcohol from my mouth??" I sputtered, my sinuses cleared from the intensity.
"No, it's just like that because you were just drinking," Billie said, taking a more serene hold of my hand as we walked up the street to my house.
"Sheesh, surely this goes away?"
"Yeah, just keep chewing. I hate to leave you. Your mom sounded fucking pissed on the phone."
Billie and I stopped at the end of my driveway. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. The bruises will heal in a week or two," I said jokingly.
"What??" Billie said, giving me a wide-eyed look.
"Calm down, Billie, she'll just be pissed, she's not going to do anything to me. She never has," I said, placing a hand on Billie's chest.
Billie took a deep breath. "Well, have fun meeting the principal. You can learn our nickname for him for yourself. It's not that hard to figure out," he said, smiling and squeezing my hands.
"I'll be itching to leave the second I get there," I said, smirking.
"That's the way I feel every damn day..."
"Ha ha. I'll see you later, okay?" I said, planting a small kiss on Billie's lips.
"Of course. Here, this is my number," he said, pulling out a pen from his breast pocket and pulling up my sleeve. He scribbled it on my arm, then put the pen back and my sleeve down. "Text me when you get out, okay?"
"Surely." I gave Billie another small kiss before turning to walk across my lawn to my front door.
"That's it?" he called after me. Smiling, I turned around and walked back down to him, Billie enveloping me in his scent as he kissed me goodbye. I gave him a tight hug, and then he let me go. "Better. See ya."
"Bye." I turned around and headed in my front door.
"Arizona? I hope you're home because we're getting in the car!" I heard my mom yell from the kitchen. Annoyed, I sighed and turned around on my heel out to the car.
~~~
"Good afternoon, Ms. Willows," the cue-ball-headed man in the navy suit said, shaking my mother's hand. Now I see where he gets his nickname fro, and I bet Billie isn't the only one to call him that. "My name is Jacques DeCarte, principal of Central Coast High School."
My mom and I both took seats in small leather chairs as the cue-ball took a seat in his big leather chair behind his big mahogany desk. "NatalieAnn Willows," my mom said, smiling. "And this is Arizona, my daughter."
"Hi," I said curtly, already wanting so badly to be back in Billie Joe's arms. Damn, I have a good perception of these things...
"So I see you're going to be completing the second semester of your junior year here, correct?" DeCarte asked, turning to me.
"Yeah," I said, staring at his cue-ball head. Suddenly, I was truck with inspiration. I fished my miniature sketchpad and a pencil from my purse, and flipped to a fresh page.
"Put that away, Arizona," my mom muttered angrily under her breath. "You can doodle later."
I shot her a look, but didn't say anything, just leaned over my mini-sketchpad and started sketching the outline of a pair of gorgeous yellow-green eyes.
"Now just wait, Ms. Willows," DeCarte said, holding up a hand. I liked this guy, making my mom shut up. "It seems we have a budding artist on our hands."
None of Mr. Cue-Ball's comments fazed me as I was fiercely scratching out the almond shape of Billie's eyes. "What exactly are you drawing, Arizona?" he asked, peering over the side of his desk.
I briefly looked up at him. "Eyes," I said, and looked back down, picking off little lines in an imitation of eyelashes.
"Eyes?" my mom asked incredulously, snapping her head to look at my drawing and I. "You haven't drawn eyes since James," she said, peering over my shoulder.
I nudged her away, and I saw her indignant expression as she sat back up, annoyance and mild contempt settling on her face as the suited cue-ball continued to peer over his desk.
"I trust you have her schedule all set up?" my mom asked after a few minutes of silence, save my pencil scratching on the paper.
The cue-ball nodded. "Yes, I will be e-mailing you a copy, and Arizona will receive one when I see her here in school tomorrow," he answered.
I stopped drawing and slowly looked up at the cue-ball. "But tomorrow's Friday," I said, slightly narrowing my eyes.
"Yes, it is. Maybe that will be a perfect excuse for you to slack off on Monday when you return from the weekend," the cue-ball said, joining his hands at the fingertips and settling back in his chair.
"Whatever," I said, closing my sketchpad and slipping the pencil behind my right ear. "See you tomorrow, I guess."
My mom stood up as I did, and shook the cue-ball's hand again. "Thanks for having us."
"Of course. See you tomorrow, Arizona."
"Can't wait," I muttered, rolling my eyes and walking out the door. I saw my mother and the cue-ball exchange a few last words before she walked out, trotting down the hallway to catch up to me.
"You were very rude, you know," my mom remarked, unlocking the car from across the parking lot.
"And does it look like I care?" I asked sarcastically, opening the passenger-side door.
"You never do, Arizona," my mom said. After starting up the car and a few minutes of silent driving, my mom asked, "Whose eyes were you drawing anyway?"
I smiled and leaned my head back against the headrest, my eyes closed. "Billie's," I answered. "Billie Joe Armstrong's."
My mother just rolled her eyes and sighed as I pulled out my phone and punched in the number Billie had scrawled on my forearm. 'omg he's a cue-ball if i ever saw one', I sent to him.
He took a moment to reply, but maybe it was the wooded area we were driving through had no service or something. 'haha yeah i told you it wouldn't be hard to figure out'
'i couldn't stop staring.'
'haha you gonna be home soon?'
'pulling in the driveway now. feel free to call in like 5'
'okay i will. talk to you in 5'
'haha <3'
'<3'
That heart was enough to keep a smile on my face the rest of the night.
"So this is basically a day in the life of Billie Joe Armstrong," Billie said, taking a swig of his beer.
"Creeping on your new neighbor, falling asleep with her in her bed, inviting her to your band practice, then turning her into your lovesick bitch?" I asked, smiling and stealing Billie's beer bottle.
"Okay, well then this is basically an afternoon in the life," Billie said, making a face as he rephrased.
"Inviting your new neighbor to your band practice and turning her into your lovesick bitch?" I asked, with undertones of sarcasm.
"Okay, so maybe you'll have to catch me on another day," Billie finally admitted, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "This day wasn't so typical."
I laughed and snuggled into Billie, my head on his chest. We were on the floor; Tre kicked us off when he wanted to lay out and Mike was spread out on the love seat smoking.
Billie kissed the top of my head as my phone rang. I pulled it out, bracing myself for a verbal barrage from my mother. "Hello?" I answered.
"ARIZONA LEIGH WILLOWS! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?? We were supposed to meet the principal of your new school an hour and a half ago!" my mother yelled, loud enough that Billie heard it, and gave me a shocked look.
I smiled. "I'm at Billie's, Mom," I said, and then realized she had no idea who that was. "Billie Joe Armstrong. He lives in the cul-de-sac, one of our new neighbors."
"Well, it's nice that you're making friends, but if you don't get your ass back to this house in ten minutes, you will have some serious explaining to do, and not just to me." My mom abruptly hung up.
Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I sat up from my position on Billie's chest. "My mom will have my ass if I'm not back home in ten minutes, so I better split," I said, stretching and using the couch as a support as I stood up.
Billie stood up as well, taking his half-empty beer bottle to the kitchen. There was some clinking, glass on glass, two runnings of the faucet, and then Billie returned, two tall glasses of water in his hands. "Drink," he said, thrusting one at me.
I took the glass and downed it in about four gulps, Billie finishing his about the same time and taking the glasses back to the sink. Taking me by the hand, he placed a bright green-wrapped object in my hand, stopping by the trash can on the way to his front door. "Start chewing as soon as possible. That way, your breath won't smell so badly of alcohol," he said, shoving one in his mouth and throwing out the wrapper.
As I started chewing, my eyes watered slightly from the intense mint taste. "Holy shit, Billie, are you trying to burn the alcohol from my mouth??" I sputtered, my sinuses cleared from the intensity.
"No, it's just like that because you were just drinking," Billie said, taking a more serene hold of my hand as we walked up the street to my house.
"Sheesh, surely this goes away?"
"Yeah, just keep chewing. I hate to leave you. Your mom sounded fucking pissed on the phone."
Billie and I stopped at the end of my driveway. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. The bruises will heal in a week or two," I said jokingly.
"What??" Billie said, giving me a wide-eyed look.
"Calm down, Billie, she'll just be pissed, she's not going to do anything to me. She never has," I said, placing a hand on Billie's chest.
Billie took a deep breath. "Well, have fun meeting the principal. You can learn our nickname for him for yourself. It's not that hard to figure out," he said, smiling and squeezing my hands.
"I'll be itching to leave the second I get there," I said, smirking.
"That's the way I feel every damn day..."
"Ha ha. I'll see you later, okay?" I said, planting a small kiss on Billie's lips.
"Of course. Here, this is my number," he said, pulling out a pen from his breast pocket and pulling up my sleeve. He scribbled it on my arm, then put the pen back and my sleeve down. "Text me when you get out, okay?"
"Surely." I gave Billie another small kiss before turning to walk across my lawn to my front door.
"That's it?" he called after me. Smiling, I turned around and walked back down to him, Billie enveloping me in his scent as he kissed me goodbye. I gave him a tight hug, and then he let me go. "Better. See ya."
"Bye." I turned around and headed in my front door.
"Arizona? I hope you're home because we're getting in the car!" I heard my mom yell from the kitchen. Annoyed, I sighed and turned around on my heel out to the car.
~~~
"Good afternoon, Ms. Willows," the cue-ball-headed man in the navy suit said, shaking my mother's hand. Now I see where he gets his nickname fro, and I bet Billie isn't the only one to call him that. "My name is Jacques DeCarte, principal of Central Coast High School."
My mom and I both took seats in small leather chairs as the cue-ball took a seat in his big leather chair behind his big mahogany desk. "NatalieAnn Willows," my mom said, smiling. "And this is Arizona, my daughter."
"Hi," I said curtly, already wanting so badly to be back in Billie Joe's arms. Damn, I have a good perception of these things...
"So I see you're going to be completing the second semester of your junior year here, correct?" DeCarte asked, turning to me.
"Yeah," I said, staring at his cue-ball head. Suddenly, I was truck with inspiration. I fished my miniature sketchpad and a pencil from my purse, and flipped to a fresh page.
"Put that away, Arizona," my mom muttered angrily under her breath. "You can doodle later."
I shot her a look, but didn't say anything, just leaned over my mini-sketchpad and started sketching the outline of a pair of gorgeous yellow-green eyes.
"Now just wait, Ms. Willows," DeCarte said, holding up a hand. I liked this guy, making my mom shut up. "It seems we have a budding artist on our hands."
None of Mr. Cue-Ball's comments fazed me as I was fiercely scratching out the almond shape of Billie's eyes. "What exactly are you drawing, Arizona?" he asked, peering over the side of his desk.
I briefly looked up at him. "Eyes," I said, and looked back down, picking off little lines in an imitation of eyelashes.
"Eyes?" my mom asked incredulously, snapping her head to look at my drawing and I. "You haven't drawn eyes since James," she said, peering over my shoulder.
I nudged her away, and I saw her indignant expression as she sat back up, annoyance and mild contempt settling on her face as the suited cue-ball continued to peer over his desk.
"I trust you have her schedule all set up?" my mom asked after a few minutes of silence, save my pencil scratching on the paper.
The cue-ball nodded. "Yes, I will be e-mailing you a copy, and Arizona will receive one when I see her here in school tomorrow," he answered.
I stopped drawing and slowly looked up at the cue-ball. "But tomorrow's Friday," I said, slightly narrowing my eyes.
"Yes, it is. Maybe that will be a perfect excuse for you to slack off on Monday when you return from the weekend," the cue-ball said, joining his hands at the fingertips and settling back in his chair.
"Whatever," I said, closing my sketchpad and slipping the pencil behind my right ear. "See you tomorrow, I guess."
My mom stood up as I did, and shook the cue-ball's hand again. "Thanks for having us."
"Of course. See you tomorrow, Arizona."
"Can't wait," I muttered, rolling my eyes and walking out the door. I saw my mother and the cue-ball exchange a few last words before she walked out, trotting down the hallway to catch up to me.
"You were very rude, you know," my mom remarked, unlocking the car from across the parking lot.
"And does it look like I care?" I asked sarcastically, opening the passenger-side door.
"You never do, Arizona," my mom said. After starting up the car and a few minutes of silent driving, my mom asked, "Whose eyes were you drawing anyway?"
I smiled and leaned my head back against the headrest, my eyes closed. "Billie's," I answered. "Billie Joe Armstrong's."
My mother just rolled her eyes and sighed as I pulled out my phone and punched in the number Billie had scrawled on my forearm. 'omg he's a cue-ball if i ever saw one', I sent to him.
He took a moment to reply, but maybe it was the wooded area we were driving through had no service or something. 'haha yeah i told you it wouldn't be hard to figure out'
'i couldn't stop staring.'
'haha you gonna be home soon?'
'pulling in the driveway now. feel free to call in like 5'
'okay i will. talk to you in 5'
'haha <3'
'<3'
That heart was enough to keep a smile on my face the rest of the night.
♠ ♠ ♠
<3