Thankfully, Monica decided to give the girls a day to rest before their performance in Pittsburgh the following night. So, Billie attempted to keep herself occupied until she finally received a text from the singer letting her know the coast was clear for her to join him in the studio.

It was quite simple slipping away this time with the girls all using their free day to explore, shop or get some extra sleep. The rented studio was convenient located down the street from their venue, which made for a quick walk.

As she finally makes it up to the room, she can feel her heart pounding in her chest. Ezra had always evoked certain uncontrollable emotions and desires within her, but never the kind of nervousness she feels now. Her fingers wrap around the door handle, and she draws a deep breath before slowly pushing it open.

The studio is small and cozier than she imagined. The mixers and controls are not separated from the booth with glass, as she's usually experienced. Instead, the entire room is insulated for recording with a large, worn out couch and a few stools sprawled out in the space.

There's a few dozen instruments lying around, and the male is currently seated on a stool with an acoustic guitar resting on his knee. The strums echo throughout the room, and his eyes are pressed shut with large headphones covering his ears. It's clear to Billie that he hasn't noticed her arrival yet.

He's humming along to the audio playing in his ears while he continues to strum, mentally off in another world. She barely notices the haze in the room, a thin line of smoke meandering up to the ceiling from an ashtray located on a table across from him. It smells of clove and weed.

His eyes flutter open, fingers reaching for the joint before his attention falls on her. She hasn't made it much further than the door. In fact, she's so encapsulated by him, that Billie can't bring herself to do anything but offer a small wave of her hand.

Ezra immediately moves to take off his headphones, a smile adorning his features as he waves back. "Hey," he greets, "Sorry. I was just figuring out some chords."

"Hi," she echoes, still unable to move. Her fingertips grip at the strap of her purse, eyes flittering around the room. "It's really cool in here. I've never been to a studio like this."

"We tend to book ones like this for when we are working on the instrumentals, rather than vocals," he replies, head tilting towards the couch adjacent to him, "Come sit."

She nods before finding her way to the couch and sitting down. Her fingertips awkwardly pull at the lace trim of her satin slip, purse slumping against one of the velvet cushions. Ezra is looking at her with such a neutral expression that almost borders softness, and she's not sure how to act normally around him.

"Did you want a hit?" He questions, fingertips reaching for the joint and offering it to her. Billie gladly takes it before pressing it to her lips and inhaling deeply. She needed something to take the edge off. The smoke is nearly fragrant as it settles in her lungs, and it almost reminds her of his hand rolled cigarettes.

She exhales, eyes meeting his once more before taking another hit. "You seem a little tense," he offers cautiously, "You didn't have to come if you didn't want to."

The smoke filters out of her nose as she shakes her head. "I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to," she assures before adding, "and I'm not tense."

"I just wanted to make sure everything was alright after the other day," he admits before reaching for the joint. Their fingers brush against each other as she hands it off, and it nearly sets Billie's entire body on fire. It's ridiculous how little he could do to make her utterly desperate for him.

"If we keep sleeping together, we should have some rules," she suggests, trying to keep her mind focused.

"Rules?" He questions with a raise of his brow.

Billie nods, fingertips tapping idly against her knees. "Yeah, like you can't bring Monte up anymore ... and we have to be better about not getting caught."

"Ah, so you don't want him finding out," he clarifies, and Billie swears she can hear a hint of jealousy in his tone.

"I don't want anyone finding out," she clarifies.

"I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I know you wouldn't," she assures, "but Sloane noticed the shops in those pictures of you. She nearly figured it out."

"She seems to be pretty good at getting into everyone's business."

"She's just observant, and someone wanting a quick buck would be able to connect the dots with a lot less. I don't want girlcrush's career tied to you or Grand Motel after this tour. I want us to be our own thing, and everyone is going to think we got famous because I slept with you."

"And what about after the tour?" He questions hesitantly.

"What about it?" Billie questions, not even thinking that far in advance. She needs to worry about the tour finishing successfully and getting the money to fund their own label, not ways to see Ezra for a quick fuck.

"Would it matter then?"

"If you're asking about Mad Sounds trying to sign us," she states dryly, "I don't think it's going to happen."

The expression on his face dumbfounds her because it looks like Ezra is hearing this news for the first time. "What do you mean Mad Sounds is trying to sign you?"

"Did they not tell you?" Ezra shakes his head, still confused by her statement. "They want us to open for your next tour ... and that means delaying our album."

"I'm sure you'll get other offers," he replies with an indifference that reminds Billie of her place in his life. She's just his opening act. Nothing more. 

"We won't get another offer like that," she assures with a bitter chuckle, "They're giving more money and opportunities than any other label we've talked to so far. But we're looking at other options."

"Like what?"

Billie pauses for a moment, realizing that she's explaining her entire plan to someone who isn't really on her side. Ezra has more to gain from girlcrush signing to Mad Sounds rather than them trying to pursue other options.

"Like I said," she states curtly, "I don't want Grand Motel, beyond this tour, to be the reason for our success."

"You've made that very clear," he replies flatly, fingertips strumming against the strings as an attempt to cut the tension. "Don't worry. I don't take offense to it. Labels are shady as shit."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"Something like that," he shrugs, fingers still strumming mindlessly. 

For a moment they sit there in silence while the chords fill the void between them. She knows he's not interested in getting into his label drama. So, instead, she asks, "What are you working on?"

"A song for the new album," he explains while glancing at her, "I haven't really done much of the writing for this one. So, I've been tasked with the melodies."

"You usually write the songs," she states as a point of clarification, heart squeezing at the reminder of who all those lyrics were about and who he thought of when he sang them up on stage.

"Yeah," he nods, "but not anymore. Jude's been writing most of them. The fans are tired of hearing about my bullshit, anyways."

"I don't think that's true," she insists, "They seem to love hearing your old albums when you perform."

"The last single we had tanked," he admits matter of factly before resting the joint back in the ashtray, "and that one was written by me. I don't really have the muse for it like I used to." 

Billie is unsure of what to say, but she's glad that Ezra speaks again to fill the silence. It allows her to not dwell on the idea that his muse had been Madison. "Besides, I always liked the music better. I feel closer to the melody than the lyrics."

"I know what you mean," Billie offers in understanding, "I don't really write much of our music. Callie and the rest of the girls are much better at it than me. It's usually a group effort, but I'm terrible with writing except when it comes to the chorus."

"I find it hard to believe that you're terrible at anything."

"Well, that's unfortunately not very true," she offers with a soft laugh, "I'm terrible at a lot of things."

"Like what?" He challenges.

"I don't know," she muses, "Like cooking. I burn everything I touch."

"I don't believe you," he offers with a playful grin before he moves to set the guitar back on its stand.

"Really, I am," she assures with a chuckle, "and I am terrible at keeping plants alive. They're always dead before I get around to watering them."

"Sounds like you're just forgetful," he suggests before moving to sit a comfortable distance away from her on the couch. She barely notices their shift in positions, bodies angled towards each other.

"Maybe," she giggles, the high causing her to find their conversation much more amusing than she would've otherwise. She moves to reach for the joint resting in the ashtray and presses it against her lips. "What are you terrible at?"

"A lot of things," he admits, "but I'm sure you could tell me what they are better than I could tell you."

Her head shakes, smoke swirling between them as she scoots closer to hand him the joint. "I could probably tell you more about what you're good at than what you're bad at," she replies without thinking, attention caught on his mouth.

"Yeah?" He questions with smoke caught in his lungs and a raise of his brow, "Like what?"

"Like singing and playing the guitar," she muses with a blushing grin, as he ashes out the remainder into the tray resting on the table in front of them.

"What else?" He questions, leaning closer towards her. 

She may be hazy, but she's still alert enough to catch on to his games. "You're good at getting on my nerves," she teases.

"That's true. You know what I think you're good at," Ezra begins, arm sprawling across the top of the cushions to where her arm is resting to prop up her head. His fingers toy with a strand of her hair, and Billie almost forget how to think. 

"What?" She barely gets out, voice softer than a breath.

"Wearing little dresses," he replies with a devilish grin before his attention flickers to the hemline of her dress. She immediately moves to press a playful shove against his chest, which causes the male's laughter to fill the room.

"You're such an ass," she remarks, her own laughter caught in her throat.

"I think you do it to tease me," he admits with a shameless shrug, "and it definitely works."

"I don't think about you when I'm getting dressed."

"When do you think about me, then?"

"Is that the question you want to sub out for the one you asked the other day?" She questions with a raise of her brow.

"Depends on if I get another one."

"Guess you'll just have to see."

"Fine," he mulls over his options a moment longer before his smile widens on his face, and Billie knows she's in for quite the question. "Did you listen to our music before you knew you were touring with us?"

"That's the question you want to ask?" She practically snorts, and Ezra eagerly nods. "Sometimes," she admits with much difficulty, "You were in a few playlists of mine." Truthfully, Billie was a fan of Grand Motel, though she'd never openly admit it to him.

"Really?" He practically beams, a cocky grin glued on his face. Billie knows she's feeding his ego, but something about that smile causes her to nod.

"Really," she affirms, "Now, I get to ask a question." He nods at her in response, a physical affirmation that he's ready to answer.

"What's your favorite color?" 

It's clear he's trying to bite back a smile. "Green," he replies without hesitation.

"What shade?"

"That's two questions," he points, "You owe me two answers now."

"Fine, fine," she waves off, "Now, what kind of green?"

"Whatever kind of green your eyes are."

His reply causes a flush to wash over the bridge of her nose and cheeks. "You're such a flirt," she remarks, attention flickering to the velvet fabric of the couch rather than him.

"You don't believe me," he laments with a feigned pout.

"Not one bit," she replies with a laugh and a shake of her head. Yet, as their eyes meet once more, Billie swears he's looking into her irises with such interest that she almost believes him.

"Okay, my turn." She nods affirmatively, which causes the male to smile his usual devilish grin. "So, when do you think about me?"

"Bold of you to assume I think about you at all," she replies with a scoff, to which Ezra laughs.

"I guess I deserved that one, huh?"

"You did," she snickers, before sucking in a breath, "But I do think about you when you're performing or when I smell those cigarettes of yours ... or sometimes when I'm alone at night."

He raises a brow at her final confession, devilish grin only growing wider. "Do you touch yourself while thinking about me?"

Her lips part in shock at the boldness of his question, cheeks flushing even further. "You are relentless. We can't have one nice conversation, can we?"

"No, absolutely not," he jests with another laugh, "but you still have to answer."

"Sometimes," she blurts out, eyes pressing shut to conceal herself from his gaze. If she was sober, she'd never openly admit it. Yet, something about him and this moment made her unable to lie. 

"I think about you," he admits freely and without hesitation, "and all those sounds you make."

"What sounds?" She questions, attention once again focused on him out of pure curiosity.

"The way you moan my name mostly," he clarifies, "but you're very vocal in other ways when I'm inside you."

"I'm not that vocal," she protests.

"It's fuckin' sexy when you are," he assures, "I bet I can turn you into a whimpering mess right here on this couch."

"You sound so sure of yourself," she replies with a playful scoff, "but I think you're a little too biased for that kind of wager."

He pauses for a moment, gears turning as his eyes flicker with some unknown, wild emotion. "We can record it in here," he proposes, "and then we can see who's right."

Billie's mouth nearly drops, eyes widening at his proposal. "Are you crazy?"

"Sounds like you're afraid to lose," he teases with a cocky shrug.

"And what if I can make you moan more?" she questions after some thought, her competitive streak rearing its ugly head. God, everything about him made her common sense completely evaporate. But the thought of something so intimate and dangerously sexy nearly drives her mad with pleasure.

"Sounds like you want to hear how turned on we can make each other," he grins, hand moving to palm at her thigh.

"Only if you promise to delete it after," she mumbles, mind caught on this way he's gripping her flesh. Though the thought of them making an intimate audio recording together had her core already aching, she isn't stupid enough to let it ruin her career.

"I promise," he states, hand freezing and eyes staring directly into hers to convey his sincerity. "But I won't mind if you want to keep it after hearing it."

She has to be crazy to even consider his proposition, but something about Ezra made her desperate for any sort of validation that she made him feel as good as he made her feel. The thought of that audio remaining a secret between only them causes her heart to beat rapidly. It's not with fear, though. In fact, it's more like excitement.

"Go lock the door," she commands.