"Backstage Pass"

As you stepped onto the dimly lit backstage corridor, the cacophony of the concert venue grew fainter, replaced by the hum of excitement and nervous energy that seemed to permeate every aspect of Billie Eilish's world. You had managed to score a backstage meet-and-greet with the Grammy-winning pop sensation, and you couldn't believe your luck. Your heart was racing as you clutched your phone, checking for what felt like the hundredth time that you weren't dreaming. As you approached the designated meet-and-greet area, a tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows. Billie Eilish stood before you, her striking green eyes scrutinizing you with a hint of disdain. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night, and her signature bold style was on full display. She was dressed in a sleek black jumpsuit, adorned with oversized silver jewelry that seemed to gleam in the dim light. "Hey," she said curtly, her voice devoid of enthusiasm. "You're the one who got the meet-and-greet, I guess." You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you tried to play it cool, extending a hand for her to shake. Billie barely acknowledged it, her handshake limp and brief. You couldn't help but wonder if you had somehow offended her already. The conversation that followed was stilted, with Billie seeming to go through the motions of being polite, but clearly not interested in talking to you. You tried to discuss her music, her inspirations, and her creative process, but she responded with monosyllabic answers, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. As the minutes ticked by, you began to feel increasingly uncomfortable, wondering if you had made some kind of mistake by thinking you could connect with her. The air seemed to grow thick with tension, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Billie was counting down the seconds until you were gone. But then, something unexpected happened. Her publicist swooped in, whispering something in Billie's ear, and her expression changed in an instant. She nodded curtly, and the publicist turned to you. "That's all the time we have for today," they said with a forced smile. "Thanks for understanding." As you turned to leave, Billie's voice stopped you. "Wait," she said, her tone low and husky. You turned back to her, sensing a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you'd get a chance to break through her icy exterior. But as you followed her into her dressing room, you realized that the space was empty, the bright lights and bustling energy of the corridor replaced by a dimly lit, intimate setting. Billie's gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, you felt like you were drowning in the depths of her eyes. "Let's get one thing straight," she said, her voice low and sultry. "I'm only doing this because I want to. Not because I have to." Your heart skipped a beat as she took a step closer, her eyes flashing with a fierce intensity that left you breathless. And then, everything changed.