She can't help the rage building up inside her. Of all the things he could do to piss her off, this is by far the greatest. The worst part? He probably didn't even do it with her reaction in mind. The fact that any girl would fall at his feet is reminder enough that Billie's attention is a drop in his bucket.

She can't even say she feels jealous. No, she doesn't wish for a moment that she could trade places with that gorgeous brunette hanging all over him the second he returned to the party. Though she made a point to ignore his arrival, she kept minor tabs on him and his new toy for the rest of the night. Each moment she glanced in his direction, Billie could feel another knot twist in her stomach.

He made it crystal clear tonight that if she wouldn't give him what he wanted, someone else would. It doesn't exactly make her want to drop her panties or fulfill his wishes. But, instead, it makes her wonder what that exchange means to him. When it comes right down to it, Billie knows she's replaceable to him.

Clearly, she is way in over her head. She thought she could beat him at his own game, but Ezra has the upper hand. At first she liked playing, but now it's nearly consuming her. Maybe it's his inability to give a fuck or his all or nothing mentality, but it's clear the singer has no normal emotions when it comes to women.

Still, she can't place the anger ripping through her chest when he leaves with someone else. No amount of alcohol is washing away the taste of his cigarette or the feeling between her thighs. At least someone is getting laid tonight, though it's certainly not her. She attempts to tear her burning gaze from the back of his head as he moves to leave with the girl but is rather unsuccessful.

This is ridiculous. It's Ezra Moore she's thinking about. This is the same man who could ruin her opportunity at success and fame with one fuck up. The same infuriating singer whose ego took up the entire goddamn room.

The last thing Billie needs right now is a distraction. She's spent the whole night worrying about Ezra instead of networking with all of the talent and labels present. Their contract with their current label is ending, and she should be more focused on that than playing fucking footsie with someone who didn't give a damn about her.

In this moment, Billie decides she's done playing around. The beginning of this tour would be a clean slate. She would stop whatever this is between Ezra and her to better focus on girlcrush's career. Besides, when it's all said and done, Ezra will be a distant memory after this summer.

 Is she really going to waste this opportunity trying to one up someone who could barely remember her name?

With that thought, she downs the rest of her tequila soda and decides to call it a night. It's been nearly an hour since he's left, and the party is dwindling down anyways. Truthfully, she just needs to get the thought of Ezra sleeping with someone else out of her mind. The mental image is enough to make her sick, though she can't pinpoint why.

She makes her way towards the exit, deliberately looking away from the spot she shared with the singer in the corner. Before long, she's headed back into the suite. When she enters the main living room, the femme is surprised to hear music coming from her bedroom. Billie figures Sloane headed home a while ago to smoke a bit and relax. Networking events, even masked as parties, always put her roommate on edge.

Billie's fingertips grab for the handle of the door, letting out an exhausted huff as she moves to greet the femme. "God, was that just me or did that party —" she begins only to stop completely at the sight before her.

At first, all she sees is fumbling within the sheets of Sloane's bed. It's clear she has company, which makes Billie feel like an asshole for not connecting the dots about the music earlier. "Shit, sorry. I'm just gonna crash in the other room. My bad." As the words tumble from her lips, she sees the familiar tattoos adorning Sloane's lover. Not long after, Daria emerges from the covers, cheeks still flushed.

"Oh," Billie breathes, feeling her heart nearly skip a beat. It feels intrusive to be walking in on something she so clearly isn't supposed to be seeing.

"We were just ..." Sloane trails off, realizing there's no way to lie or make the current situation any easier to digest.

Billie shakes her head almost immediately, not really angry at anyone else but herself for being so consumed in Ezra for the past two months that she missed something  budding between her two bandmates. "You don't need to explain," she quickly interjects, heels already turning towards the living room once more, "I'm just gonna go for a walk." She doesn't give either of the girls time to reply, needing oxygen more than an explanation. Before long, she's rushing out the door and towards the elevators.

As much as Billie tries, she can't push out the feeling of betrayal, which she also knows is hypocritical given that she's said nothing about the male to her best friend. Sloane and her told each other everything, and part of her is beginning to feel that maybe this opportunity is not changing them for the better ... maybe they are destined to be just like Grand Motel.

She slips into the elevator, attention focused on her distorted reflection on the ceiling. The doors are just about to close before a manicured hand slides between the crack to alert the motion sensor. Billie's eyes meet a familiar face and it nearly causes her to be sick. She's had enough cruel jokes for tonight, but this one has to be the worst.

"Sorry," the brunette offers with a huff, a smile still plastered on her face. There's something off about her appearance, as if her hair has lost its perfect curl or her dress is slightly crinkled. Billie knows what that means and it only makes her even more ill. 

"No worries," Billie replies barely above a whisper, arms cradling her torso as a means to regain any sort of composure. She needs to be alone, needs to think. She couldn't do that with Ezra's hook up standing nearly three feet away from her.

"Hey, you're the lead singer of girlcrush. Billie, right? I've listened to your music, and it's amazing. I can't wait to see you open for Ezra," she states with a warm smile, and Billie almost feels bad for her. Clearly, this girl is way too nice for someone like Ezra.

"Yeah," she nods with as much enthusiasm as she can muster before adding, "We're really excited to tour with Grand Motel." She places an emphasis on the band's name, wanting to make it clear that Ezra isn't the only star of the show. It's insane how much everyone forgot about Jude and Ambrose in the midst of the lead singer's stardom and chaos.

"Right," she offers embarrassedly, "I, uh ... I don't suppose you get to see the band much, and I know this is really stupid to ask, but is there anyway you can do me a favor?"

Billie furrows her brows slightly, trying to contain the scoff caught in her throat. Did people really think he was that unapproachable? Hell, he was about two steps away from fucking Billie right there on the rooftop if she had let him, and this girl thinks he barely even knows her. 

"I see him for practice every once and a while," Billie states flatly, motioning for the girl to continue on with her request.

"God, this makes me look like some stupid groupie," she mumbles to herself before reaching into her purse and pulling out a slip of paper and a pen. She begins writing quickly before adding, "I didn't get a chance to give him my number. I'm catching a flight for a show tomorrow, so I totally rushed out." With a body like that, Billie assumes she must mean something involving modeling. 

She extends the paper towards Billie, which the blonde dumbly takes without hesitation. If anything, this'll make it easier for her to stay out of Ezra's way.

"I'll make sure to give it to him," she assures, tucking the folded paper in her jacket pocket before returning to cross her arms.

"Thanks, I owe you one," the brunette beams as they make their way down the infinitely long high rise.

Billie, desperately and more than anything, wishes she could make this trip down faster. She's holding her breath when the elevator dings and the doors finally open. The femme walks out, a lightness in her step the blonde envies. Clearly, Ezra is a competent lover. Billie trails behind until she's sure they won't meet outside the building, then she finally slips out the entrance.

The air is more crisp as the evening progresses, and the femme checks her phone to see the time. 𝟸:𝟹𝟿 𝙰𝙼. Her eyes wander to her notifications, which is the last thing she should be dealing with right now.

𝚂𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙽𝙴: 𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢

𝚂𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙽𝙴: 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎, 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝

Billie lets out a slow breath before locking her phone and shoving it back into her pocket. She didn't want to deal with anything right now. Though she hates leaving Sloane worried, the femme desperately needs to collect her thoughts before discussing what she'd just witnessed.

What would it mean for the band if things didn't work out for Daria and Sloane? Part of her didn't want to even entertain the idea of girlcrush breaking up over it. She knows they're stronger than that, but at one point, Grand Motel must've thought they were stronger than anything too. Now look at them.

She moves to warm her cold hands in her pockets before her fingertips are greeted by the folded piece of paper. She knows better than to open it, knows she can't do anything but play messenger without looking like a fool. Maybe she'll give to Ambrose or Jude ... or to one of his dozen security guards. Either way, she didn't want to see the stupid, shit eating look on his face when he realizes she talked with the girl he fucked apparently very well.

After much mental debate, she decides against reading the note and heads back up to her suite. The girls had to start packing tomorrow before their final meeting with Grand Motel and their agents. After that, they'd be on their way to Chicago for their first show next week.

As she reaches her floor, she moves to slip the note under Ezra's door. She remains glued to her position on his doormat with her eyes caught on the entrance. Just for a second, Billie allows herself to wonder what would've happened if she had said yes to his advances. How would their world change? 

A soft laugh escapes her lips at the absurdity of the notion. Ezra Moore's world wasn't altered by her presence or their attraction, so why should she let her's be?