Everything I Wanted

Pop Quiz - 37

The transition from Auckland to Sydney brought with it a new wave of excitement, nerves, and—perhaps most of all—possibility. The morning after Billie's final Spark Arena show, Story woke early to the sound of her phone buzzing with itinerary updates and reminders from the tour manager. Even in her sleepy haze, she smiled to herself, thinking about the night before: the rush of the crowd, Billie's glowing face post-performance, and, of course, the kiss that ended in Finneas' all-too-timely interruption.

Billie had left a quiet note on the counter before slipping out early for a production meeting. "See you in the sky," it read, scribbled in her unmistakable handwriting, with a small doodle of a plane next to it. Story tucked it carefully into her backpack, heart fluttering at the thought of seeing her again. Her fingers lingered on the paper for just a moment longer before she zipped up her bag and glanced around the room one last time. The Auckland hotel had become a small haven—one that was now in the rearview.

By late morning, they were seated side by side aboard Billie's private jet, high above the Pacific. The team had given them space, with Finneas and Maggie sitting closer to the front, headphones in and heads down. Story still couldn't get over the sheer luxury of the experience—soft leather seats, plush blankets, fresh fruit trays, and matcha lattes delivered like room service. Even the air smelled cleaner somehow.

"I'll never get used to this," Story muttered, tucking her legs underneath herself as she looked out the window at endless blue sky stretching into the horizon.

Billie turned toward her, one eyebrow raised and a soft smirk tugging at her lips. "You say that every time we fly."

"Because it keeps being true," Story said with a small laugh, resting her head on the back of her seat. "I used to get excited for Economy Plus. This is like... spaceship-level."

"Well, it helps when your spaceship has snacks," Billie teased, reaching over to drop a wrapped Ghirardelli caramel square into Story's lap.

Story beamed, unwrapping the chocolate and popping it into her mouth. Billie watched her with open affection, one hand resting between their seats, pinky finger grazing Story's.

The flight was easy. Their conversation flowed in quiet rhythms, alternating between music, childhood stories, and random topics pulled from thin air. They debated whether Tangled or Frozen had better animation, whether either of them could actually surf, and who would win in a lip-sync battle between them. When the lull came, it wasn't awkward. It was comforting. Familiar. And underneath it all, there was a steady pulse of something unspoken—a growing tension wrapped in comfort and care.

Eventually, Story dozed off against Billie's shoulder, lulled by the hum of the engines and Billie's fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of her hair. Billie didn't move, didn't speak—she just sat still, like holding onto that moment would keep the world quiet a little longer.

The descent into Sydney was smoother than Story expected. Customs was expedited for the team, and the hotel transfer was already waiting by the time they exited the jet bridge. As their van weaved through Sydney's cityscape, Story pressed her face to the window, marveling at the harbor views, the bustle of pedestrians, and the sunlight bouncing off the Opera House in the distance. She had never been to Australia before.

"Wait until you see the venue," Billie said, noticing the look on her face. "Qudos Bank Arena. It's huge."

"Bigger than Spark?"

"Way bigger. And louder. You're gonna love it."

They shared a smile that lingered a moment too long, until Maggie cleared her throat from the seat ahead of them. Billie and Story broke into soft laughter, looking away at the same time, cheeks tinged with color.