Everyone is packed into the green room before girlcrush goes on stage, and Ezra is attempting to remain unphased by the way Billie is attached to Monte. At first, he thought it was some kind of game to make him jealous, but now he knows the hard truth that she's actually interested in the guy.

The way she looks at him with such softness is not something he's ever experienced with her. In fact, Billie only ever looked at him with anger or lust. Their whole relationship feels so different from the one Monte has with her, and he's envious of it.

He feels foolish for even caring, knowing that her lack of an answer that night is proof enough that she's no longer interested. Yet, her attention lapses every so often in search of Ezra's eyes. At first, it's not very noticeable. The singer is good at acting like he doesn't give a shit, which puts her off for a few minutes before seeking out his attention once more.

Maybe if he isn't so deeply seated in rage and jealousy, he'd offer some visual affirmation that he notices her. Instead, all he does is sulk and drink in his own corner of the room. No one bothers him with the scowl painted on his features, which he's thankful for.

Monte moves to place his hand on the small of her back, and Ezra nearly crushes the glass in his hand. He has no right being this possessive over her, but Billie played his game so well that he can't help but feel like it might not be over quite yet. She says something to the photographer, squeezing his hand before moving to slip out the door.

He knows he shouldn't follow her or try to address anything that occurred two nights ago, but it's eating him alive. Ezra needs to know what happened and why some other guy is standing in his place. Without drawing much attention, the male slips out of the room and catches a glimpse of the blonde heading into her dressing room.

He pulls open the door, not even bothering to knock. Truthfully, Ezra doesn't want anyone to know what he's doing, especially Jude. More importantly, if this ends in another rejection, it's best if it's done in privacy.

She nearly gasps at the sight of him, eyes widening as she looks at his reflection from the vanity she's peering into on the opposite side of the room.

"What are you doing here?" She questions with an uncertain tone before turning around to look at him face to face.

"You know what I'm doing here."

"No, I really don't. Your dressing room is two doors over. Try mixing in a water before the show. I don't want you this confused on stage."

"Shouldn't I be the one who's pissed off here?" He replies with a scoff.

"Oh, please enlighten me on what you could possibly be upset about."

"You're going to make me say it, as if you don't know." Now, he's growing impatient with their interaction.

"Yeah, I'd like to hear how stupid you sound when it comes out of your mouth."

"You fucking win, Billie. I'm done with whatever game this is between you and me. I thought you really wanted something to happen between us. I mean, fuck, you were practically begging for it. And, now — now you're with whoever the fuck that is."

"Oh, I get it. You don't like being second best. I couldn't possibly imagine how that feels."

"What are you talking about? I told you I wanted you pretty explicitly at the club."

"I'm not talking about two nights ago. I'm talking about the rooftop party, where you didn't get your way and left with someone else."

"How was I supposed to know what you wanted? You went on a whole fucking monologue about how much you despised me. Was I just supposed to consider that foreplay?"

"God," she groans, "You just don't get it, do you? You haven't had to fight for anything or anyone in a long time. You treat everyone like they're fucking expendable, even that girl who, by the way, still wanted to give you her number after you passed out on her."

"How did you —"

"Which part?" She interjects, "The phone number or the passing out? Well, considering I'm the one who slipped the paper under your door for her pretty much clears up the first half. And for the other part, well, I guess I just figured that's the kind of shit someone like you would do. So, am I right?"

He stands there dumbfounded like a deer caught in headlights. For the first time, the femme has him entirely speechless. "That's what I thought," she replies with a roll of her eyes, "You just expect everyone to fall at your feet."

"So, you're punishing me for some shit I did when I barely knew you?" He finally gets out after much deliberation.

"That's the point. You still don't know me. Not once have you sought me out unless you wanted something from me," she points out, and the realization makes him stick to his stomach.

"I could say the same for you," he retorts, "Don't act so innocent about what's been going on between us. You only talk to me when you feel like getting wet or when you want to shit on me."

"I'll admit, I played your game. I wanted to see you make a fool out of yourself for treating me like I was just another one of your fans. But you're shameless, Ezra. I bet you went and found someone else to warm your bed the minute I didn't reply."

"I waited for you to respond." The words come out flat and deflated, almost like the air being let out of a balloon. "But clearly that was stupid of me."

"What's stupid is that text you sent."

"What did you want me to do? Come knock on your fucking door with all your bandmates and announce to everyone that I wanted you to come back to the hotel with me?" He questions with a scoff before adding, "Don't think I don't realize that you would rather nobody know about us."

"There is no us," she corrects, "Nothing happened."

"But you wanted it to. So, why did you change your mind?"

She hesitates, body leaning against the vanity with her arms crossed against her chest. Now, it's her turn to feel dumbfounded.

"Was it that I didn't work hard enough for it?" He presses, "Should I go buy a camera and fawn over you like Monte does, as if it's not his fucking job to do that already? Then, will that be enough for you?"

"You don't get to be upset with me for my relationship with him," she warns through a clenched jaw. "You know nothing about him."

"I know you don't like him as much as you want me," he replies confidently, to which she scoffs. He can feel himself waver now, as he's reminded of the way she interacted with the photographer.

His next jealous words slip past his lips before he can stop them. "Did he make you come?"

Billie's lips part in disgust. That fiery look in her eyes returns, and Ezra is sure he's done it now. This conversation will most definitely not lead anywhere good. "I'm not answering that."

"Oh, so he didn't," he states cockily, head tilting slightly to the side in apprehension of her quip as he moves to close the gap between them.

"He did, multiple times," she assures without thinking.

It's clear she wants to prove him wrong about the other male, but Ezra isn't really interested in their relationship anymore. In fact, she doesn't really seem all that interested in it either. If she was, then she wouldn't have tried to prove him wrong.

"And you think that's fair? That I don't get to try?"

Her forehead creases slightly as she tries to formulate some sort of rebuttal, but it's clear that Billie is contemplating his offer. That, of course, only emboldens him to take a final step closer.

"You said I had to work for it," he reminds, "So, let me."

"Right now?" She questions, swallowing thickly. Her eyes flicker to the clock. He follows suit, grin growing.

Fifteen minutes. He could do a lot in that time.

"So, you're considering it," he teases, already inches from her face. His hand moves to play with the hem of her dress, thumb sliding over the inside of her thigh. She doesn't flinch at his touch, instead she leans into it.

His hand slips deeper, fingers brushing over the lace trim of her panties. Billie lets out a rattled breath, body shifting to sit up on the vanity as he positions himself between her widening legs.

"Tell me you want me," he urges gently, eyes burning into hers.

For a moment, she says nothing with her doe eyes peering up at him. It's as if she's waiting for him to pull away or reveal his cruel joke. Instead, he hooks a finger around the lace to tug her closer towards him.

"I want it," she states without much thought, hand eagerly moving to guide him towards her core. "Touch me."

Though it's not quite exactly what he's asked, Ezra slides beneath the fabric and is immediately met with warmth. The feeling alone makes him stiffen in his jeans as his fingers run along her.

He begins to slowly circle around her bud, and a moan escapes Billie's lips. "You like that?" He questions, heart skipping a beat as she nods. She's clearly unable to formulate any words with him rubbing her like this.

His thumb continues to circle the sensitive bud while his ring and middle fingers go lower. She's so wet it nearly causes him to ache with pleasure. At least he was right about one thing.

Ezra slips the two fingers inside her before working them slowly and deliberately. He wants to hear her beg for his touch, wants to make Billie only remember his name by the time he's through with her.

She moans again, this time needier than the first. Her lips are parted in ecstasy, and Ezra can't imagine anything more beautiful than the sounds coming out of her mouth or the look on her face.

"You're so fuckin' wet," he praises, "Did you get this wet for him?"

Billie lets out a breathy laugh, eyes fluttering open to meet his for only a moment. Still, she doesn't answer him, which only encourages him to go further. He slips his fingers out before moving to impatiently tug at her panties. As if instinctually, the femme tilts her hips so that he can slide them off.

"Open your legs a little wider for me," he coaxes, tone soft as syrup.

"Why?" She breathes, thighs still spreading open before he can offer an explanation.

The male gets on his knees, hands grabbing underneath her thighs to pull her closer to the edge of the vanity she's currently perched on.

"I said I wanted to taste you," he replies, eyes falling on a sight that causes flames of passion to ignite inside him. "And I meant it."

Her fingers are gripping the edge of the vanity, legs resting on each side of his shoulders as he trails kisses along the inside of her thighs. Ezra lazily makes his way to her soft, silky bud. His tongue circles around it before her hands become entangled in his hair.

Billie lets out another moan, head leaning against the mirror as he continues circling around her most sensitive spot. "Fuck," she breathes, "It feels so good. Don't stop."

He quickens his movements, tongue working against her as if it's the last thing he'll ever taste. The way she grips at the roots of his locks only encourages him to slip two fingers inside her once more before working them in and out at a pace that causes a long string of moans.

"You gotta be quiet," he mumbles against her, fingers only quickening their pace, "Wouldn't want everyone to hear how good I make you feel."

"Ezra," she stumbles out, "Please, I ... I'm going to —" Before she can say anything else, she lets out a sound of pure bliss as her thighs quiver and clamp against him. She shakes and pulsates for what feels like an eternity, each second complete ecstasy for the male. Though he hasn't reached that kind of pleasure with her yet, he feels as if he's right on the brink with her. One touch from Billie and he could follow suit.

As she comes down, he remains buried between her thighs. Part of him doesn't want to pull away in fear she'll regret this interaction entirely, the other part is still interested in tasting more. As her legs stop quivering, he wills himself to pull away and finally meets her eyes.

Billie is still trying to regain her composure, chest rising and falling in an attempt catch her breath. Her cheeks are stained a new hue of pink, one he could get used to seeing. She's looking at him in a new sort of way, gaze softer than before. Even so, it's not the way she looks at the photographer. "Did that feel good?" He questions, still on his knees before her.

She nods, fingertips reaching for the lacy fabric hanging from one of the knobs of the vanity's drawers. Yet, his hand reaches out to stop her. "Who said we were done?" He questions, free hand resting on the inside of her thigh to keep her spread open.

"I have four minutes," she points out, which nearly causes him to wince. Ezra doesn't want this to end, doesn't want her to regret it before he's even inside her.

"Oh," he breathes, standing up from his position before running a hand through his hair.

Her eyes trail down to his jeans, tongue running over her front teeth as she smiles. "Now that's twice I've blue balled you."

He shakes his head, soft laughter following. "Four times," he corrects, "You've made this hard four times."

She furrows her brows, mentally trying to add up all the times she could've aroused him. Thankfully, he didn't mention all the times he was alone with his thoughts. That would just make him look like a fool.

"You can try to figure out the other times while you're up on stage singing," he suggests with a grin, hand moving to reposition himself. "But I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"And why's that?" She questions before pushing off the vanity and slipping her panties back on.

"Because next time, we'll have more than fifteen minutes."

"Who said there would be a next time?" She questions with a raised brow, which causes the male to offer a confident shrug in return.

"You said he made you come multiple times," he reminds with a devilish grin, "I think I should get another chance to beat his record. Don't you?"

She looks at him for a moment too long, and Ezra already knows her answer before she even opens her mouth.

"Good luck out there," he offers, not needing verbal confirmation any longer, "I'll be watching."

"I watch you too, you know," she replies before tugging on the handle, "And I much prefer the Ezra in this room than the one on stage."

Her words nearly cause him to collapse. As she shuts the door behind her, the singer is left alone with the weight of her statement.

Was she aware of the meaning of her words? Ezra is not sure, but it's enough to make him wonder what that girl could possibly know about him from one, solitary performance. The thought scares and excites him all at once.

Maybe for the first time in his life, Ezra doesn't mind being second best.