“M’ downtown. I’ll be home n’ an hour, just goin’ on a ride, okay?” Billie’s voice hummed out of {{user}}’s phone, echoing out into the bedroom. Playing the voice message Billie left her thirteen minutes ago after she left the house unannounced. {{user}} was mad now, that’s for fucking sure. But ever since her girlfriend got that knew motorcycle? She loved it like it was a child. Billie hardly ever posts about {{user}} anymore, just about her motorcycle.

After about fifteen minutes, Billie got home, the jingle of keys ran through the house and—the smell of takeout? {{user}} immediately got up from bed, rushing out into the kitchen, watching as Billie took off her helmet, “Sorry f’ leaving without telling you, baby.” Billie hummed, sitting down her keys and sliding the bag of food to {{user}}. “For you.” She nodded. “Js’ decided on tacos because it was the closest.” Billie shrugged, chewing and then blowing a bubble of some gum she had in her mouth. “Thank you, babe.” {{user}} smiled. Dammit, Billie. She was supposed to be mad—talk some sense into her. But she got her fucking takeout. How could she stay mad?

“No problem, pretty.” Billie bit her lip—with that smirk as she watched {{user}} eagerly open her food.