All the secrets of a fangirl | B. E. Story |

11.0

It's three days later. Lily and I are packing all our bags—Kate's included. We're waiting outside the hotel. It's time to head home. Billie and I have been spending so much time together these past few days, and I wish I could take her with me immediately. But since Kate has no one besides me and Lily, I've decided to take her into my home. I live alone, while Lily still lives with her parents. Kate can stay with me as long as she needs to recover and needs time to heal.

Billie suggested that once I'm home and Kate is settled, she'll come visit. She still has two more shows in LA, which makes me feel a bit guilty—I want to support her. Okay... and maybe I really want to see her perform. Once a fan, always a fan.

The hospital staff will make sure Kate gets safely to my house. They'll bring her in an ambulance. I can't drive her home alone—she's triggered too easily, and it could cause panic attacks. I'm not ready for that.

Lily pulls the car up in front and opens the trunk. I toss our bags in and shut it. Sitting in the front seat, I immediately connect my phone to the aux cord. My Spotify playlist starts, and of course, the first song is Bellyache. Lily looks at me with a smirk.

"Please be joking," she says as she starts the car.

I shrug and laugh, singing along to the lyrics.

⸻

Billie 🧡
Drive safe. See you in three days. Can't wait to see your place, mamas.

Me:
I'll text you when we get home. I'll make sure that once you arrive after your shows—probably exhausted as hell—you'll feel right at home.

⸻

Billie leaves me on read, so I toss my phone between the seats and glance over at Lily. She looks tired. This trip didn't do her any good. I grab her hand and squeeze it.
Since Kate woke up and told us her theory—that Brian and Trey were the ones who drugged her—Lily immediately cut contact with them. She blocked them on all socials and deleted their numbers. She's devastated. At the time, she hadn't noticed any signs. Personally, I'm still skeptical. No one actually saw them do it.

"You know," I say, "if they're proven innocent, you could always try reaching out to Trey."

Lily shrugs, keeping her eyes on the road. "The damage is already done."

"If you want to talk—"

"Please, Lana. I know you always want to see the good in people. But I don't think Kate is making this up. And it's given her some pretty nasty panic attacks."

I don't reply. That's enough of an answer. I stare out the window. Giant billboards flash by, promoting the artists who played at Coachella. Despite everything, I smile. This trip didn't end well—but I met Billie.

We get home and park in front of Lily's apartment. I live around the corner, so I tell her I'll just walk. I get out, stretch my arms, and glance around. It's quiet—lots of families with young kids live here. It's the ideal neighborhood if you're not into parties, booze, or weed. Unless you're at Coachella, duh.

I grab my bag, hug Lily, and thank her for everything. We promise to stay in touch over the next few days. I walk home, unpack, and collapse on the couch. I turn on Netflix—The Walking Dead—to pass the time before Kate arrives. The silence is peaceful, aside from the zombies.

A few hours later, the doorbell rings. I open the door—and I'm shocked. Kate looks awful. Her hair is tangled, and she smells like she hasn't showered in days. A nurse hands me her medication and explains what she needs to take and when. I nod, then shoot her a cold glare.

"You all need to take better care of your patients."

Without waiting for a response, I close the door and follow Kate into the living room.