βπΈππππππππππππ’, π’ππ ππππ ππ ππ πππ ππππ ππππ πΈ ππππ, πΈ πππππππ πππ πππππππ π πππ π’ππ, ππππππππππππ’, πΈ πππ’ ππ ππππ, πΈ'π ππ πππ ππππ π’ππ'ππ ππππππππ, π πππ ππ πππ πππππ ππ ππππ ππππ π’ππ ππ.β (18+) Y/N knows exactly what Billy Hargrove is like. She knows he flirts with other girls, knows he never stays in one place for long, and knows better than to believe she is the only one. Billy has always played the field, and Y/N isnβt naΓ―ve enough to pretend otherwise. The problem is that every time sheβs with him, none of that seems to matter. Billy gives her something no one else can, an instinctive kind of affection that leaves her completely undone. She cherishes the moments they have together even while knowing there are other girls waiting for him the second she leaves. She knows heβs cheating. She knows he isnβt hers. Sheβs even crazy enough to want him anyway. Because whatever Billy Hargrove does when sheβs not around, no one makes her feel the way he does.
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