Fever Dream

Kalena

Billie's party was already chaos before she even touched the mic.

The second the bass dropped — Kendrick, Money Trees — the crowd snapped like a rubber band. We were onstage, this raised platform pulsing with LED lights, surrounded by haze and heat and that kind of magic you only get in the desert when the night is deep and the music's loud enough to drown out your heartbeat.

Billie was glowing.

Again. Always.

She had on low-slung jorts with a yellow stripe, a blue 'Los Angeles' jersey, oversized. A cap with a black bandana peeking out. Her hair was up in a messy pony-tail, the kind that somehow made her look both disheveled and divine.

"I'm gonna lose my mind tonight," she said, grinning at me as we danced. "You ready?"

"I was born ready," I said, then immediately stumbled when she started throwing it back.

Claudia, standing next to us, fake-covered her eyes. "Billie, I beg you."

"She was raised by wolves," Finneas muttered, sipping something neon green and clearly alcoholic.

Billie turned to him. "I was raised by you, asshole."

"Exactly."

Everyone was sweating within ten minutes.

Odessa was screaming the lyrics to Missy Elliott like her life depended on it. Zoe kept twirling around in her silver micro-skirt, grabbing Billie and spinning her mid-verse. Gabbriette danced like she was in a music video — sultry, slow, unbothered — while Quenlin literally climbed the speaker stack and shouted, "GAY RIGHTS!" for no reason.

"I love your friends," I said breathlessly.

Billie grinned, brushing a strand of sweaty hair off my forehead. "I love you."

She kissed me. Right there, under pulsing violet light, in front of all our friends, with a crowd below screaming every word to Frank Ocean.

Mustafa passed me a drink. "You two are gonna break the internet again."

"Good," Billie said, licking salt off her hand before taking a shot. "They need to know."

She grabbed the mic halfway through Bound 2, Kanye echoing out into the night.

"Okay, okay — y'all know I had to bring some shit of my own tonight," she shouted, her voice echoing over the speakers. "This is not a set. This is not an official performance. This is just my little gay desert party."

Screams.

"Y'all wanna hear something unreleased?"

More screams.

"Three things, actually."

The crowd lost it.

She turned to me, eyes sparkling.

"You ready, Kal?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What, like emotionally?"

"You already know what's coming."

I did.

She leaned in close. "You look so hot when you're nervous."

"You're the one singing songs about eating me alive."

She bit her lip. "And I'm not sorry."

The opening synth of Chihiro hit like a dream.

It was haunting. Electric. The crowd didn't know the words yet but they felt it. Billie moved like she was swimming through sound, hips swaying, arms raised, eyes closed as she poured herself into the mic.