What he dosen't know | Billie Eilish

Billie stretched lazily, letting out a small groan as she sat up in bed, her fingers running through her messy, dark hair. The dim light filtering through the curtains cast soft shadows over her skin, making it impossible not to stare.

She rolled her shoulders before standing, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the floor and stepping into them without a second thought. Then came a hoodie, oversized and effortless, swallowing her frame in the most annoyingly attractive way.

"Finneas is on his way," she murmured, voice still laced with sleep. "We're working on a song."

I was still in bed, still naked, still feeling the weight of everything that had just happened between us.

I pulled the sheets a little closer around me, my fingers gripping the fabric as I watched her move around.

"How do you even keep finding inspiration for new songs, you have made a song about almost everything at this point?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

Billie paused, her back still to me as she pulled her hoodie over her head. Then, slowly, she turned, her lips curling into that smirk.

"I could always write a nasty song about fucking my friend's little sister."

I gaped at her, heat rushing to my face as I grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it straight at her.

"You're an asshole!"

She barely dodged it, laughing, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Before I could grab another pillow, we both heard it—the sound of the front door slamming shut.

"Billie?" Finneas' voice carried through the house, his tone already suspicious. "Why the fuck is Jonathan's car in the driveway?"

Billie's response was immediate, completely unbothered.

"Because Juliette's here!" she called out casually.

My heart nearly stopped.

I shot out of bed, scrambling to gather my clothes, my entire body buzzing with the aftermath of what we had done—and the sudden, horrifying reality that I was still naked in Billie's room while her brother was now in the house.

Billie, meanwhile, just stood there, watching me panic, her expression somewhere between amused and smug.

"You're such a dick," I muttered under my breath, pulling on one of billies hoodies and yanking my shorts up over my legs as fast as humanly possible.

Billie only grinned.

Five minutes later, I had managed to make myself look semi-presentable, my hair slightly tamed, my breathing mostly under control. But as I stepped into the kitchen with Billie, my pulse was still racing.

Finneas was already rummaging through the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice. He barely looked up as we walked in, but I could feel it—he knew something was off.

He turned, his eyes flicking between the two of us, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Morning," he said slowly, dragging the word out like he was testing the waters.

"Morning," Billie replied, completely unfazed.

I swallowed, forcing a casual smile. "Hey."

Finneas studied us for a moment longer before grabbing a glass and pouring himself some juice.

Billie, meanwhile, just leaned against the counter, stretching her arms above her head like she had all the time in the world.