Different From The Rest

The movie credits had rolled, the lights were low, and Alycia was completely knocked out—head tilted to the side, mouth slightly open, snoring just softly enough to be harmless. You and Billie exchanged a look across the couch, and you knew she was thinking exactly what you were.

You leaned in and whispered, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Billie grinned slowly. "Absolutely."

Trying to hold in your laughter, you tiptoed to the kitchen while Billie grabbed a sharpie from the side drawer. You came back with whipped cream and a tiny paper mustache you'd made from a napkin. The two of you carefully, so carefully, drew a tiny mustache on Alycia's upper lip, and Billie added a unibrow just for good measure. Then you both topped it off by spraying a little dollop of whipped cream on her hand and tickling her nose with a tissue.

The slap to her own face was instant—and messy. Alycia bolted awake, half-blind from whipped cream, yelling "What the hell!" while you and Billie fell apart laughing on the floor, clutching your stomachs.

"You guys are evil," Alycia groaned, wiping her face with a throw pillow.

Billie snorted. "Evil and artistic. You should thank us."

"Next sleepover, I'm locking myself in the bathroom," she muttered, collapsing dramatically back into the couch.

Eventually, the laughter faded, and you all ended up tangled on the couch under a blanket, warm and soft and close. Alycia stretched out across one end, Billie held you against her chest on the other, her hand resting gently over your side, your body curved into hers.

The night passed quietly.

But the next morning, sunlight filtered through the windows, and Billie stirred. She blinked against the light, groggy and warm—but the moment her hand reached over and didn't find you, she sat up.

"Babe?" she whispered, voice low, checking the floor, the couch. Alycia was still out cold, snoring again. You weren't there.

Her heart jumped. She got up fast, padding toward the bedroom with anxiety creeping in her chest.

But when she opened the door, there you were—sound asleep on her bed, curled up beneath her blanket, arm tucked under your head, the faintest rise and fall of your chest easing her nerves instantly.

Billie sighed with relief and leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment.

"Scared me," she whispered under her breath, barely audible.

She stepped forward quietly and sat at the edge of the bed, brushing your hair back from your face with a kind of tenderness only she had for you.

You didn't stir.

Billie smiled.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight again

The morning settled in softly.

Billie stayed beside you on the bed for a while, watching you sleep, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the blanket near your shoulder. She didn't want to wake you—not after the long night—but her hand eventually moved to your back, rubbing gently, slow and comforting.

"Baby..." she whispered, voice husky from sleep. "You wanna wake up? I made coffee."

You stirred a little, your brows scrunching at the sound of her voice, then relaxed again. She leaned down, pressing a warm kiss to your temple.

"C'mon. Just a few minutes. I'll make pancakes."

That finally got you.

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking up at her face, which was already smiling down at you.

"You said pancakes?" you mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep.

"Mmhm," Billie grinned, brushing her thumb along your cheek. "And I'm putting chocolate chips in yours because I'm nice."

You stretched a little, wincing lightly at the dull ache still lingering in your arm. "Okay, that's worth waking up for."

Billie helped you sit up gently, then kissed your forehead again. "Take your time. I'll be in the kitchen."

By the time you made it out to the living room, Billie already had the stove going. Alycia was up too, sitting at the counter, nursing a mug of coffee and still wiping sleep from her eyes. Her face was clean now—no trace of the whipped cream prank left, though the memory clearly still lingered based on her expression.

"Morning, Mustache," you teased as you passed by her.

"Watch your back," Alycia warned, narrowing her eyes. "I'm plotting."

Billie giggled from the stove. "I'm unprankable. Try me."

The three of you shared a lazy, warm morning together—music playing low, pancakes stacking high, and the kind of peace that only happens when nothing else in the world matters except being there, together

After breakfast, the three of you stayed in that cozy haze—pajamas still on, plates half empty on the coffee table, and soft music still playing in the background. Billie flopped down onto the couch beside you with a satisfied sigh, resting her head on your shoulder while Alycia sprawled out on the floor, lazily scrolling through her phone.

"Okay," Alycia said, stretching dramatically. "We need to do something today."

Billie groaned. "Nooo. I like it here. This is perfect. You, me, pancakes. That's the vibe."

You chuckled. "You just don't wanna get dressed."

"That too," Billie mumbled into your hoodie sleeve.

Eventually, after some back and forth, you all agreed on a chill afternoon out—nothing wild, just something to get fresh air. You ended up at a nearby open-air market, Billie throwing on sunglasses and a hoodie, Alycia pulling you both into a little stall for handmade candles while Billie gravitated toward the vinyl stand.

Every so often, Billie's hand would sneak into yours as you walked.

Later, back at the house, it was golden hour. Billie sat on the back porch steps with her guitar, quietly strumming. Alycia was inside helping herself to more snacks, and you were stretched out on a blanket in the grass, eyes closed, just listening.

There was a comfort in it—the way the day moved slowly, how laughter came easy between the three of you, how Billie kept stealing glances at you every time she played something new.

As evening rolled in, Billie suggested a movie night.

Pillows and blankets took over the living room floor, and you all piled in. Alycia fell asleep first this time, her hand still loosely wrapped around a bowl of popcorn. Billie shifted closer to you, resting her head in your lap, and whispered, "Best day ever."

You smiled, brushing your fingers gently through her hair. "Yeah?"

She looked up at you and nodded. "You make everything feel soft."

The screen flickered with light, your heart felt warm, and the world outside could've been miles away.