What he dosen't know | Billie Eilish

The night was warm, the air buzzing softly with the sound of crickets and the occasional hum of distant traffic.

We were all spread out on the terrace, drinks in hand, a little buzzed, a little relaxed, the dim glow of the patio lights making everything feel soft, easy, golden.

Finneas had taken center stage, telling a story with dramatic hand gestures, Billie rolling her eyes every few seconds like she already knew where it was going.

"I'm telling you," he said, pointing at Billie like he had been personally victimized. "She was an actual menace to work with as a teenager. Like, I still have PTSD."

Jonathan snorted, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh, this I gotta hear."

"Dude," Finneas sighed, shaking his head. "She would get so fucking pissed at me over the dumbest shit."

Billie rolled her eyes, sipping her drink. "I was just passionate."

"No, you were insufferable," Finneas shot back.

Billie laughed, throwing a piece of ice at him.

"Okay, okay, hold up," I said, grinning. "What exactly did she do?"

Finneas leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, all serious now.

"Picture this," he said, dramatically. "We're in the studio. It's 2 AM. I have been producing all fucking day—my eyes are bleeding from staring at a screen."

"Bullshit," Billie muttered, but she was smiling.

"And then," Finneas continued, ignoring her, "Billie—teenage Billie—walks in and goes: 'I hate everything about this song.'"

I choked on my drink, laughing.

"Oh my God."

"And I was like, 'What do you mean? We worked on it for three days!' And she just goes, 'Yeah, I know. And it's trash.'"

Jonathan was cracking up now, shaking his head.

"To be fair," Billie interjected, grinning, "some of those songs were trash."

"Oh, don't even," Finneas groaned. "The worst part was when she would get stubborn as fuck about a note or a melody and literally not let me leave the studio until she was happy with it."

"I was right, though," Billie said smugly.

"You were insane," Finneas corrected. "Like, trapped in a soundproof box with a tiny, angry dictator insane."

The whole table burst into laughter, me included.

Billie raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of—"

She turned toward Jonathan, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

"How was Juliette as a teenager?"

I felt my stomach tighten slightly, suddenly on the spot, but Jonathan just smirked, shaking his head fondly.

"Jules?" he said, glancing at me with a soft smile. "She was the easiest kid ever. Straight-A student, never caused trouble, never came home late, never made a mess of anything."

Billie tilted her head slightly, eyes flickering between us.

"Sounds fake," she teased.

Jonathan chuckled.