"What did you think was going to happen, Ezra?" Jeff questions through a constrained jaw before his hand slams on the table between them. "Answer me."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It had not even been twenty four hours since their date, and the pictures of Billie and Ezra were splattered across every news outlet and tabloid. Though paparazzi weren't present in Phoenix, apparently Grand Motel's adoring fans with phones were. Twitter even had their names trending within the first hour of the pictures releasing.

He stares blankly ahead, unwilling to show his distress to his manager quite yet. It wouldn't be for the reasons Jeff wanted him to be upset, anyways. Ezra could care less about his image anymore. There were only two things on his mind now: Madison and Billie. These pictures could be the tipping point for his ex, and disastrous for Billie's career.

"I didn't think anyone was going to see us," he admits, "We were just touring the city. Am I not allowed to go out with a friend?"

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, "There's no way to do damage control on this. The pictures are out and every tabloid has been sitting on this story since the beginning of the tour. Do you understand what this will cost us?"

"Does she know?" He breathes out, fingertips itching for a cigarette. He needed a fucking break, needed a moment to breathe or else he'd go insane.

"Forget Billie for one goddamn minute and think about yourself. Better yet, think about Grand Motel," he pleads with a stern tone, "You promised Faye. You promised, Ezra, that you'd stay away from her. It was so goddamn easy, and you couldn't do it."

"So, I can't have friends," Ezra scoffs, "This is so fuckin' rich coming from you, you know that? You want me to get better and live a normal life, and I go get fucking ice cream. Ice cream with someone I work with, and you're pissed off."

"You want to get ice cream, Ezra? Why don't you call up one of your bandmates or any other human being with a penis instead, huh? Why not try to patch up some of the bridges you've burned instead of trying to get with yet another girl?"

"It's not like that," he insists, but Jeff is quick to interject.

"Save it," he warns, "I've been nothing but patient with you and her. I let you fuck all over every goddamn venue we stopped at because you were being smart about it. But the minute you decided to put that fucking coat over her head, you crossed a line."

"You want me to play my best for this tour?" Ezra spits, "Then you're gonna clean up this mess and continue being patient because she's the only goddamn reason I'm up on that stage every night. If anything, and I mean anything, gets between that, you can forget me ever getting on another one again."

"The only person that got in the way of your little romance is your own self," he responds, "You couldn't wait, and you got greedy. And now, everyone in this whole goddamn universe thinks we gave girlcrush the opening act because she spread her legs for you."

"What?" Ezra states with an exasperated tone, eyes widening.

"You heard me," Jeff retorts, "and what's worse is that Madison's team is refusing to take our calls. She hasn't signed yet. Do you understand what that means? If you would've waited another fucking week, we would've been out of the woods."

Ezra can feel his entire body going numb when he realizes what kind of disaster he had created. He should've known better, should've had the strength to tell her to wait. But he was selfish and greedy and lovesick. He wanted — no, needed to see her. And now he'd pay for it.

She'd pay for it, too. Their investor could pull out now. Her career would forever be marred by her relationship with him. The only bright side of this ordeal is that none of the pictures looked romantic. Sure, the articles had played into it, but the pictures themselves were not all that incriminating.

"So a few fans saw me get ice cream on my birthday with the lead singer of my opening act," Ezra shrugs, "Big fucking deal. You're telling me your infinite wisdom can't pull together some sort of narrative that makes this go away?"

"The damage is done." The words come out cold and harsh, as if Jeff has given up on him entirely.

Ezra only stares blankly at his manager, stomach twisting in knots. Fuck, he needed a drink. He needed a few pills before he could sort all this out.

"You have to fix it," Ezra demands, "Fucking try!"

"AltMag happens to be doing an interview with girlcrush right now, since we're in Billie's hometown. It was supposed to be good press, but now it's damage control. She's going to have to sell the idea that she's not interested, and that you're only friends. Then you'll have to pray it's enough."

"And what are we doing about it?"

"Open your goddamn ears," Jeff demands, "We're doing nothing. This girl means nothing to you, just like all the other ones before her. We've never put out a statement for your flings before, and we won't be doing it now."

"You can't expect me to sit back and do nothing."

"If anything, now would be the time to get on your hands and knees to beg Madison to sign that contract."

"Like hell I'm going to do that," he scoffs.

"Then you'll shut your fucking mouth and keep your dick in your pants for the time being. If I see you with Billie in public again, Mad Sounds is prepared to pull their offer."

Ezra can feel his heart stop. God, he's going to be sick. He can feel his stomach turn acidic, body going numb from the burning inside him. "You're going to take that away from them, all over her wanting to be with me?"

"She doesn't want to be with you, Ezra," Jeff corrects, "She just wants to fuck you and maybe get a little more famous in the process. But don't be surprised if she'll want nothing to do with you after this."

"You don't know her," Ezra spits, "We're not using each other. It's different."

"I don't care what it is. You want to continue it? Fine. Do it in private. When you're out in public, you act like you don't even know her name. Got it?" Jeff demands.

Ezra swallows past the lump in his throat before nodding. The show was starting in less than two hours, and she'd be done with the interview soon. He needed to see her before, needed to talk to her before she slipped out of his fingers entirely.

✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ

He's finally able to slip away after his hair is done and he's dressed for the show. Ezra had been trying to reach Billie for the last hour by text and call, but her phone went to voicemail each time. For a moment, Ezra began to wonder if he had been blocked.

He can feel himself losing touch with the world around him while he taps against girlcrush's dressing room door. Sloane opens it with a soured look on her face. She barely pulls the door back enough for him to see inside.

"I need to talk to Billie," he pleads, "Please."

"She's not here," Sloane replies cooly.

"What do you mean she's not there?" He questions, eyes attempting to peer into the room. "I just need to talk to her."

"And tell her what? That you're sorry for fucking up our chances with that investor or for having her lie to us for the past few months?"

Ezra can feel the rage and hurt in her tone, and it causes his eyes to avert momentarily. He hadn't realized how much Billie had risked to continue seeing him. "Just let me in."

"She's not here, asshole." Sloane scoffs, fingertips pulling open the door to reveal Daria and Callie seated on a worn out leather couch. They're looking at him with such disappointment and anger that Ezra almost feels ashamed.

Without another word, Ezra turns around and pushes past the dozens of bustling crew members as he begins his search for the femme. He starts in the green room, then Sky's dressing room, then a few of the utility and supply closets, until he finally stumbles upon a door titled 'ROOF ACCESS.'

As he pushes against the metal handle, Ezra is met with that dry heat once more and a beautiful desert sunset. He scans the roof until he sees a familiar blonde puffing away on a cigarette with her back faced away from the exit.

He swallows past the lump in his throat as he hesitantly makes his way over to her, and Billie doesn't even bother to acknowledge his presence. She just puffs on a plain cigarette, and the smell nearly nauseates him.

"I thought you didn't like those things," he points out softly before scanning her side profile as he leans against the railing.

"I just needed something for my nerves," she croaks before ashing it out on the ledge.

"You have nothing to be worried about," he assures, "This is going to go away. There's no pictures of us kissing or even remotely touching."

"They're calling me a slut," she laments, "They think I slept with you to get the opening act."

"Well, you know that's not true."

"But did you keep me around because you thought I would?"

The words cause his mouth to go dry, and Ezra hesitantly reaches for her hand. She makes no effort to pull away, so he intertwines their fingers. "No," he rasps with a shake of his head, "but I'm glad you think I have that much control over my own tour."

The joke causes a soft laugh to escape past her lips before she grows sullen once more. "I really think I fucked everything up for myself. The girls won't even talk to me. They're worried that the investor is going to back out."

"Do you think that's going to happen?"

"I don't know," she sighs, "I'd like to think that they'd see past the gossip and recognize that girlcrush has something special. But I just don't know, so I'll be holding my breath until the end of the week until I do."

"I'm sorry," he rasps, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to fuck things up for you."

"No, you didn't do anything," she shakes her head, "It's my fault. We should've never gone out in public, especially after everything you did to save my ass in Miami."

His heart nearly breaks over the notion of her regretting being seen with him, but Ezra tries not to take it personally. This isn't about him right now, it's about her. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

She sucks in a breath before meeting his gaze. "Just tell me I didn't do it for nothing," she croaks, "Tell me that you meant what you said."

"Willow," he breathes before pulling her knuckles to his lips, "You know I meant it."

"I can't be some girl you sleep with to pass the time," she begs, and it's clear to Ezra now more than ever that she had been holding onto these anxieties long before these pictures leaked. "I can't be a placeholder, not after this."

"You're not," he assures, "The only person I'm worried about is you, okay?"

"I need time," she chokes out, "I have to figure this out and fix things with the girls."

"We're all going on a weeklong break two stops from this one," he reminds, "Take longer than that if you need it. I don't mind waiting."

"Thank you." Billie lets out a shaky breath before she moves to burrow her face into his chest. Ezra grips her, hand protectively cradling the back of her head. He presses a soft kiss against her temple as he attempts to work out ways that he can make this go away for them.

But there is no fixing this. They had miscalculated, and now everyone had to sit and wait for the consequences. He can feel the fear creeping up inside him. If he didn't lose Billie over this, he most certainly would when Madison's song got released. Either way, their time was running out.

So, Ezra does all he knows: he tightens his grip around her. He holds her until she finally pulls away to head for her set. And then he stands alone on that roof, looking up at the sky like he had done the night of the rooftop party. Alone again, and perhaps forever, like the two stars suspended in opposite realms of the twilight.