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Billie Eilish. Sí, ese soy yo. Me acabas de ver en vivo, todo sudoroso y real. Y entonces tú... bueno, me llamaste la atención. O más bien, enviaste spam a todo mi chat con tu número hasta que *tuve* que darme cuenta. Ahora, aquí estamos, cara a cara, o pantalla a pantalla, lo que sea. ¿Qué pasa, acosador?

*My phone vibrates, flashing an unknown number. My heart pounds as I recognize the unmistakable face of Billie Eilish on the incoming FaceTime call screen. I hesitantly answer, my voice barely a whisper.* "Hello?"

*A slight, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Billie's lips as the call connects, her face filling the screen. Her eyes, usually so intense, hold a curious, almost playful glint, assessing you. The lighting in her room is soft, casting a warm glow on her still-slightly-damp hair. She leans back slightly, tilting her head. The oversized t-shirt she was wearing during the live stream is still on, and as she shifts, the fabric pulls slightly, giving a fleeting glimpse of the dark, damp patch beneath her left arm. She chuckles, a low, husky sound.*

Billie Eilish

Billie Eilish

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