He moves to drape the jacket over her head, careful to cover all of her blonde hair. Now, the femme looks like any other girl Ezra could've picked out in this club. As he pushes the door open, a few security guards meet him and push back the growing crowd of photographers.

"Ezra!" "Ezra, over here!" "Who's the girl?" "Who's the mystery girl?" "Ezra!"

He's thankful she's able to keep her footing from the sidewalk to the car, and Ezra makes a point of concealing her from the cameras as he helps her into the backseat with the jacket still draped over her head. He slips in after her before the door shuts out the flashes of light and hollering.

"The windows are tinted and flash proof," the driver greets, "They won't see you or Miss Fields once the partition goes up, sir."

"Thank you," Ezra breathes. Once the dark glass between the driver and the backseat closes, he moves to pull the jacket off her head. He's surprised to see that Billie is staring right at him.

A languid laugh escapes her lips. "You put a jacket over my head," she slurs tiredly.

"I did," he chuckles, "Didn't want anyone seeing you."

"Right," she whispers, though it's a poor attempt at keeping quiet, "We have to be secretive."

"That's right," he assures, and now it's clear that Billie is not really looking at him. In fact, it feels like she's in an entirely other dimension.

"Now we can be alone," she mumbles, hand finding his as if it's second nature. Ezra looks down at their intertwined fingers before slowly slipping out of her grasp. They had held hands before during sex, but never outside of that space. Something about her wanting to now leaves a terrible taste in his mouth.

The idea that she only wanted to touch him when she was turned on or incredibly intoxicated plays over and over in his head.

"You're tired," he breathes, "Close your eyes."

Now, she's inching closer to him from across the long, leather seat. Her hand grips at his once more, and Ezra allows her to continue holding it this time for the sake of appeasing her. She's clearly too fucked up to realize what's she's doing, and maybe she even thinks he's someone else. "Are you taking me home?"

"Yes," he rasps.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles out, "For making you wait all night."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he assures, attention focused on anything but her eyes. The green doesn't look the same when she's like this.

"I'll make up for it," she assures, and her hand moves to grip at the inside of his thigh. Ezra can't help the way his stomach knots. He immediately reaches for her hand, pulling her away from him.

"What?" she questions with a frown, "You don't want me to?"

"Not tonight," he replies softly, "You've had too much."

"You're mad at me."

"No, I'm not." He still can't bring himself to untangle himself from her grasp around his right hand. His head shakes, lips pressed together to keep himself composed.

"Then kiss me," she pleads, free hand resting on his chest.

"Billie," he sighs, hand reaching to pull hers away once more.

"Why don't you ever kiss me?" She pouts, and Ezra's swallows thickly.

"I've kissed you," he assures, thumb rubbing over the top of her hand. He had kissed her plenty of times, all of which when they'd been intimate. And part of him wonders what she means or if it's just drunken nonsense.

"Yeah," she continues, "but you've never just kissed me."

"I didn't think you wanted me to," he replies before he can catch himself, and Ezra immediately regrets it. It's unfair to be having this conversation with her now, especially when he hasn't had the time to cool off from the idea of her being serious with Monte.

"I want you to," she confirms.

"I think sober Billie would say something entirely different," he reminds with a chuckle, free hand moving to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into his touch in such a way that it makes it difficult for him to swallow.

"You've never asked sober Billie what she wants," she reminds, and for a minute he forgets she's intoxicated at all. The words are so clear and concise it takes a minute for him to register them.

"And what would she say?"

"I guess you'll have to ask her," she teases, and Ezra can't help the smile tugging at his features once more. Even when completely drunk, Billie hasn't lost her skill at keeping him guessing.

"Maybe I will."

"You should ask her what she thinks about your tattoos, too," she giggles.

"Oh, really?" He questions with a raise of his brow, "What about them?"

"They're incredibly sexy. 'Specially the ones on your arms and chest," she admits freely, eyes roaming over the body parts she mentioned.

"You're very drunk," he laughs softly, and she nods.

"I took your advice."

Ezra can't help the way his features fall, as if he's been socked in the stomach. "It was a joke," he clarifies, "You're not serious, are you?"

"It's funny," she laughs.

"It's not," he protests, "You shouldn't have done that. I don't know what would've happened if I wasn't —" Ezra stops himself, unable to even complete his thoughts.

Thankfully, the car stops and the driver alerts him that they've arrived at the private parking in the stadium where the buses are situated. No one would be able to get pictures of them back here. He lets out a long breath before turning to the femme once more.

"C'mon," he moves to open the door and help her out of the car, "Let's get you to bed."

As she stumbles onto the bus and kicks off her heels, Ezra isn't quite sure if she realizes that she's still leaning on him. It's as if she's moving like she's alone. Her fingertips begin to slip off the straps of her dress, and Ezra immediately hooks them over her shoulder once more. Billie doesn't even object or acknowledge his actions.

As she slips into the bottom bed of one of the bunks built into the back of the bus, she lets out a soft groan. He reaches for a bottle of water and twists open the cap. "Can you drink a little for me before you go to sleep?"

She nods, sitting up slightly after she takes the bottle. As she presses it against her lips, Billie looks at Ezra with tired eyes. "You probably think I'm stupid," she mumbles.

"No," he shakes his head, "Whatever you've done, trust me, I've done it a dozen times and probably a whole lot worse than you. I could never think you're stupid."

"I was hoping you'd take me home," she admits before handing the water back to him and laying back down. Ezra takes the opportunity to seat himself on the edge of the bed, head ducking down so the top of the bunk won't hit him.

"You didn't ask me," he states softly, attention focused on his hands. He places the bottle on the floor next to her bed. 

"I wanted to," she slurs, "S'bad."

His attention flickers back to her, and Ezra can feel his heart slowly mending. He can't tell if it's all drunken nonsense or if it's the truth that she had been harboring, but he desperately wants to believe that Billie means what she says. For tonight, at least, he'll believe every word.

For a moment, her eyes are that familiar shade of green again, and it's like he's looking at her sober. It's as if they're seeing each other in a new way all over again. So many firsts he's felt alone with her, and he can't even say he minds it. All Ezra knows is he could never get tired of looking into those eyes, even when they aren't looking back.

"Why do you look at me like that?" She mumbles, a lazy smile still plastered on her features.

"Like what?" He questions with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. God, she's beautiful without even trying. 

"Like you could love me," she breathes out, and it sounds like she's in a far off daze. She moves to nuzzle into the pillow, fingertips reaching for the sheets and blanket to pull over herself.

Ezra feels subtle pangs filling the void in his chest. His ribs ache while the rest of him goes numb. She knows more than she lets on. Hell, Billie had seen right through him since the day that they met. Yet, the infatuation he had been so hellbent on concealing and denying was lying out in the open for both of them to see.

If only she wasn't drunk and he wasn't a coward.

"And what if I could?" He rasps, but it appears she's already somewhere else. The question hangs in the air between them, and it seems like only Ezra notices. He decides it's best if he leaves now before she says anything else that could snap his soul in two. "Good night, Billie."

His hand moves to tuck another stray strand of hair behind her ear before he begins to get up from his seat on her mattress. Her fingers immediately wrap around his wrist, however, and she tugs him back towards her.

"Don't go," she pleads, eyes pressed shut in such a way that it's clear she's trying to get the room to stop spinning. He had spent so many nights like this alone that the thought of leaving her felt almost wrong.

"I can't stay," he reminds, knowing that him curling up next to her for the rest of the night would alert everyone of their connection and inevitably end any chance of her continuing to see him. He isn't ready to let her go just yet. Ezra knows he has until the tour is over before she slips out of his grasp entirely, and he'd rather prolong the inevitable than jumpstart it.

"Lay with me. Just until I fall asleep," she pouts, eyes fluttering open for a moment to reorient around him. He knows he can't say no to her, especially with the way she's looking at him.

"Alright," he rasps before he reluctantly finds himself shifting next to her on the small mattress. The male makes a point of staying outside the covers with enough space between them that he's got a clear view of her features.

"Could you really love me?" Billie questions without warning, and Ezra lays there in silence for a long while. She's looking at him with such tenderness that he nearly forgets how to breathe. His chest rises and falls with one great inhale before the breath shakily escapes his lips.

"I think I could," he admits with much difficulty.

Though, it didn't make much of a damned difference. Clearly, he already knows her answer when it comes to that. Billie couldn't love him. And even if she could, she shouldn't.

"Now I get to ask a question," he adds, hand moving to cradle the back of her head as his fingertips rub at her scalp. Hopefully, the feeling would distract her so she'd fall asleep and forget this conversation entirely.

"Ask it," she hums, eyes pressed shut in bliss.

"Could you love him?" He's sure he can see the smallest trace of a smile grace her features, but it's gone as soon as it appears. The question is a cop out, and he knows it. But perhaps it will tell him everything he needs to know instead of outright asking her the more pressing question weighing on his chest.

"No," she answers immediately, "but you asked the wrong question."

"I know," he swallows thickly, fingertips still rubbing her head and entangling in her blonde tresses. He knows she wants him to ask if she could love him, not Monte. Yet, he's afraid of the answer, and it's not something he wants to hear out of her mouth when she's drunk.

"I'm s'tired," she slurs.

"It's okay. Go to sleep," he replies softly, thankful their conversation is coming to an end.

He waits for her breathing to grow heavy and her body to go still. Ezra moves slowly from his position and takes one final look at Billie silently sleeping. Sloane would be back soon, and a security guard would remain in the bus until she did. Ezra knows he can't stay, so he heads towards the exit and back to his own bus before he loses all of his reason.

With every step, Billie weighs on him and his thoughts. He couldn't help himself when it came to her. He tried to hate her, tried to stay away from her, tried to only fuck her. None of it worked. Ezra had been incapable of love for so long that he had forgotten what it even felt like, and Billie had begun to remind him of all emotions he had shut out for so long.

He didn't want to fall in love. He avoided it in the past at all costs, and he told himself Billie wouldn't be an exception. He wouldn't fall for her. Yet, despite all of his efforts not to, it became increasingly apparent that he could love her.

He could, he shouldn't, he does.