It's funny how he only feels like a person when thousands of people are watching him. Funny how he could be breaking down or drunkenly stumbling or screaming at the top of his lungs for help, and no one would even notice as long as he's still singing. All those people came to hear him sing, but how many actually listened to his words?
Truthfully, the sad boy persona worked well for Ezra and his career. He used it as a means to get over his heartbreak, sold a couple hundred thousand albums, and capitalized on his pain. But no one ever told him that immortalizing his breakup would make it nearly impossible to ever escape it on stage.
Again, it's funny how he only feels alive when he's up there. As much as he hates reliving all those emotions, the adrenaline and high he feels after a show nearly always makes up for it. Tonight, of course, is that reminder that he needs to be up there, needs to be making music and performing if he has any chance of making it past twenty-seven.
The fact that he's able to remain relatively sober and put on a stellar show is cause enough for celebration, and, truthfully, Ezra needs to let off some steam. No one is going to tell him to watch his liquor or usage tonight, especially with how high spirits are. So, of course, he's all on board for a group outing to one of Chicago's most exclusive clubs.
He admittedly hasn't spent much time in a group setting with the boys and all of girlcrush, but it's clear that Jude and Ambrose are more than cordial with them. While he had been sulking in the suite, they had been making friends.
Granted, he doesn't feel left out for long. Once the group arrives at the club, everyone seems to branch off. Sloane and Daria disappeared with Billie almost immediately to dance. Ambrose and Skylar were off hooking up in some corner, while Jude seemed entirely preoccupied with Callie. That left Ezra in a fairly good position for the beginning of the night to stir some trouble.
Though a few drinks and lines were his usual nightly escapades, the male found himself centered on an additional objective tonight. His eyes tracked the blonde to the dance floor, watching as she swayed her hips to the beat. It's entirely intoxicating the way she moves her body. He hasn't seen her let loose quite like this, which, of course, is something he's hoping to benefit from.
As the night grows later, the male finds himself in desperate need of a cigarette and some fresh air. He's spent a majority of his evening crowded by some very attractive women and an unending supply of vodka, but his inability to keep track of time causes him to assume that everyone has gone home for the night.
He slips out the backdoor, the brisk air immediately cooling him off. Though it's the beginning of summer, it's clear the midwest hasn't quite warmed up yet. Truthfully, Ezra prefers the cold.
His fingers grasp for a cigarette nestled in his pack before moving to light it. As he takes a draw, three girls stumble out of the club. Ezra tries to stop the devilish grin forming upon his features at the sight of their familiar faces.
Daria and Sloane fumble towards a tinted black SUV, while Billie guides them. "I'll be home soon," she promises to her friends before helping them into the car.
"You better be," Sloane teases.
"And make sure to bring someone home with you," Daria adds.
"Yeah, yeah," the blonde snorts, "Drink some water when you get back."
After the girls wave to their lead singer from the car, she turns towards his direction. Her cheeks are still flushed from the heat of the club, miniskirt providing very little protection against the cold. Though, the air doesn't seem to bother her. In fact, the only thing that's changed her jubilant mood is the realization of his presence.
"Why so glum?" He teases as she approaches, smoke filtering out from his nose.
"Just didn't realize you were still here," she replies coldly, which causes his features to falter. He's not sure what exactly he's done now to upset her, but Ezra is in a good enough mood to be willing to find out.
"Well, that's not very fair," he points out, "I've been here all night, and I haven't seemed to ruin your good time yet."
"That's because you've been having your own good time," she points out, and he can't help the smile returning to his face at the notion that she had been keeping tabs on him, too.
"Watching you dance like that has been more than a good time for me," he admits with a soft shrug before offering her the cigarette. "It's certainly different from what you do on stage."
She shakes her head, arms crossing over her chest. "And how would you know what I do on stage?" She questions pointedly. It's clear Billie isn't interested in playing any games tonight.
"What do you mean? I watched you," he states matter of factly, and he can tell it throws her through a loop. Her forehead creases in a certain way whenever she's mentally recalibrating her next words.
"Tonight?" She questions cautiously.
He nods, taking another drag from his cigarette. The male holds the smoke in his lungs for a moment longer than normal before he speaks once more. "I was planning on telling you good job but it seems you've been avoiding me."
"I could say the same for you," Billie points out, still keeping a great length of distance between them.
"I thought I made it clear I don't want to avoid you."
"Really?" She scoffs, "When was that?"
"When I made a pass at you nearly two weeks ago," Ezra reminds with a puzzled look, unsure how his request could be misinterpreted.
"You had to have known that wasn't going to work."
"Doesn't mean I planned to stop trying."
"It doesn't seem that way to me."
"Then, what does it seem like?"
"Seems like you got your ego bruised and didn't want to have to deal with the girl who turned you down until you got over yourself," she jabs in return.
"Do you really think that little of me?" He questions, and the words come out with more emotional weight than he intends. Ezra has to remind himself that he doesn't really care about what this girl thinks, just how she feels and tastes.
"I don't know what to think about you besides the fact that it's better if we stay out of each other's way," she replies with a firm nod, as if to convince herself of her own words.
"So," he sucks in a breath of air, flicking his cigarette to the ground, "I shouldn't ask you to dance with me, then?"
Another scoff escapes her lips, eyes wide at the proposition. "You've got some nerve."
"Oh, yeah?" He taunts, "Why's that?"
"Do you think I just sit around and wait for you to remember that I exist?"
"No, quite the opposite," he taunts with that same shit-eating grin.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I think you spend a lot of time trying to forget that I exist, or at least forget the part where you're attracted to me."
"You're so fucking full of yourself," she practically laughs. The meaner that Billie gets, the more he so desperately wants her.
"Just admit you want to dance with me, at the very least," he eggs her on, "Then, you can shake your ass all by yourself for the rest of the night, if it pleases you."
"You were looking at my ass," she states, not really curious enough to question his motives.
"Why wouldn't I be?" He questions with a short laugh, a soft shrug rolling from his shoulders. Of course he was. That isn't even a question.
"Good night, Ezra," she groans, fingers latching onto the handle of the backdoor to head inside.
"I don't forget you exist, by the way," he adds, hoping it's enough to catch her attention.
She pauses, the bass and noise from the club pouring out into the desolate alleyway. "Words don't mean much to me," she replies before turning to burn those fiery eyes into his, "You have to prove it."
With that, she turns back towards the interior to head inside. He's not sure what comes over him in the moment, but Ezra is desperate to prove her wrong. Somehow his pass at her weeks prior and tonight isn't working its usual magic. In fact, the girl is nearly invincible to his charm.
Perhaps Ezra isn't all that charming but, instead, is just rich and famous. That's enough in Hollywood to make him one of the most interesting men alive. Billie sees through all that bullshit right down to his core, and it reminds him that he'd be a glaring red flag to most women if he weren't the lead singer of Grand Motel.
As she slips back into the club, the male trails after her. It's quite easy to catch up, calloused hands reaching out to grasp gently at her forearm. She whips her head around and gives him a look that he's seen before. She's begging for him to prove her wrong.
It's a damn shame that Ezra is exactly the man she knows he is, not the one she wants him to be. He could give into her demands quite easily, though his intentions are rather nefarious.
"Dance with me," he pleads over the music, knowing it's the best he can do. But Billie isn't willing to compromise.
"After you're finally bored with all those girls?" She questions with a scoff, "No thanks."
"What do you want me to do, huh?" He leans closer, eyes searching for any sign of her giving in to his request, "Get on my hands and knees?"
She pauses for a moment, as if to contemplate his suggestion. "Say please."
His brows raise at her request. Did she really think that his ego is so large that he'd be unwilling to do it? The more Billie and him interact, the more he realizes that she's got him all figured out and knows nothing about him all at once.
"That's all?" He questions over the blaring music, fingertips still loosely wrapped around her arm. She hasn't resisted his touch, and it somehow keeps him grounded.
"You haven't asked nicely once."
"Please," he states without any hesitation, mouth trying to restrain itself from smiling. God, he'd do just about anything to get her to say yes, and such a simple request almost feels like a joke.
"I can't hear you," she yells with feigned innocence over the music.
He takes the opportunity to hook his hand against the crook of her neck, leaning closer towards the shell of her ear. "Please, Billie. Dance with me."
Ezra pulls away slowly, eyes meeting hers once more. Her lips are parted as if she's trying to get words out, but nothing comes out at first. Instead she nods before stating with much difficulty, "One song."