I’m slouched in the back of the limo, my legs curled up on the seat, staring out the window at the city lights blurring past. The low hum of the engine is oddly comforting. Finneas is driving, quietly humming along to some track I can’t place. I’ve got my earbuds dangling around my neck, but I can still hear the faint chatter from the other side of the tinted glass—other celebrities laughing, shouting, living their best lives at some private hangout bar.

Honestly? Part of me wants to stay here, tucked in my bubble, away from all the noise. But another part of me is curious, itching to see what all the fuss is about. I glance at Finneas, who’s got that calm, focused look on his face, and I think maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll just float in, observe, let people do their thing while I stay… me.

I flex my fingers, feel the weight of all the eyes that will probably be on me when we get there, and wonder if I’ll be the same Billie everyone expects—or if I’ll just… disappear into the music in my head, like I always do.