𝕜𝕦𝕞𝕫

Your phone rested face-up on your desk, the glow of the screen fading little by little before slipping into darkness.

One text.

Delivered eight minutes ago.

Hey Lexi, it's Y/N from the show. 

Nothing underneath it but the quiet hope that she'd seen it. Or maybe she would eventually. Maybe she was at work and put her phone down somewhere. People had lives. They didn't spend every second staring at a screen waiting for messages from someone they'd met once.

Eight minutes became nine.

You sighed through your nose and turned the phone over before you could watch another minute crawl by. The guitar resting across your lap suddenly demanded your attention. Your fingers drifted across the strings without purpose, finding old chord shapes from memory rather than with intention.You repeated the same handful of notes, altered them, abandoned them halfway through. The melody never became anything. It just wandered. Kind of like your thoughts.

You frowned. What if the text sounded weird?

Too casual? Too formal?

Maybe introducing yourself was unnecessary. Of course she'd remember you.

Or maybe she didn’t. 

You rubbed your thumb against one of the strings absentmindedly before plucking it again. Another chord rang out, sour enough that you instinctively winced. You tried again, pressing your fingers harder this time. Still wrong. The frustration wasn't really about the message anymore. It was the fact that your brain had decided eight minutes of silence meant there was something to solve.

The notes became sharper, less deliberate. Your hand dragged harder across the strings until finally your nails scraped against them in one rough motion. The dissonant crash echoed through your room, enough to catch the attention of Zach passing by. 

"Woah," he laughed. "Let's not take it out on the guitar."

You glanced up. He tucked his phone into his pocket and leaned one shoulder against the frame, eyes drifting toward the instrument still resting across your lap.

"Everything alright?"

You let your hand settle over the strings until the last vibration disappeared beneath your palm. "Yeah,” you responded but he did not look convinced.

"It's just..." You searched for words, only to realize there really weren't any. Nothing had happened. That was the embarrassing part. 

You'd sent a text. She hadn't answered yet. End of story.

Except your mind had decided that apparently wasn't enough. It had spent the last several minutes picking apart every word you'd typed, wondering if introducing yourself had sounded awkward. Wondering if she remembered you. Wondering if she was deliberately waiting before responding. Wondering why you cared so much in the first place.

It was difficult to explain anxiety that existed entirely inside your own head. You sighed.

"Can I ask you something?"

Zach straightened a little.

"Shoot."

“Umm..How do you usually talk to somebody?"

He blinked.

"What kind of talking?"

"You know." You made a vague gesture with your free hand. "Just... talking."

His eyebrows lifted.

"You gonna have to give me more than that."

You huffed a quiet laugh.

"I mean..." You looked down at the guitar, absentmindedly plucking a single string. "How do you keep a conversation going?"

"Oh."

Zach stepped farther into the room. The chair beside your desk squeaked as he turned it around and sat, resting his forearms across the back.

"So you met somebody?" he asked.

You shrugged. "Sorta." 

"Mm." He nodded to himself as he thought of what to say next. "I don't know." Zach scratched at his jaw. "I kinda just... talk."

"That is the least helpful answer you could've given."

"I'm serious."

"But what if..." You hesitated. The question sounded stupid before you even asked it. "What if you run out of things to say?"

Silence settled between you. Zach looked toward your guitar for a moment before speaking again.

"I think you're treating conversation like it's a job." 

"Like you've gotta prepare enough just to get through it." He leaned back in his chair. "And you don’t need to. You're not performing for somebody."

He reached toward your desk, idly spinning one of the guitar picks lying beside your phone.

"You're learning about them." The plastic pick rotated beneath his thumb. "They say something, you respond. They ask something, and you answer."

"If the conversation dies…?"

He shrugged at your question.

"Don’t let it. You ask enough questions and you’ll find that common interest. And if you can’t, then just let it end.”

You stared at him. "That sounds terrifying."

"It only sounds terrifying because you're trying to force something."

You opened your mouth to argue before realizing you didn't actually have one. 

Because he wasn't wrong.

You'd been trying to predict conversations before they happened for as long as you could remember. Thinking three sentences ahead. Replaying things after they ended. Looking for moments you could've answered differently.

Somehow talking to people had become less about listening and more about making sure you did the ‘right thing’.

Zach watched your expression soften.

"I think," he said carefully, "you spend way too much time inside your own head."

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, silently agreeing. He stood, stretching his back until it cracked.

"Look."

He gave your shoulder a soft squeeze.

"Whoever this person is," He nodded toward the phone lying face-down on your desk, "they already wanted to talk to you once. Don’t let your thoughts answer for them."

The statement lingered long after he let go.

As he reached the doorway, something seemed to occur to him.

"Oh." He snapped his fingers. "Invite 'em to the party tonight."

You looked up.

"Yeah, that actually sounds g–" your words caught. "Wait. What party?"

Zach stopped halfway into the hallway.

"Oh." He scratched the back of his neck. "I ain't tell you?"

You stared. "Zach."

"My bad."

"When were you planning on mentioning this?"

"I am mentioning it."

"Day of."

He pointed at you. "Still communicating if you think about it."

You laughed despite yourself.

"It's here at eleven. You'll have fun, I promise.” Then he disappeared around the corner before you could stop him, and the room settled back into silence. 

Maybe he was right. Maybe you were thinking too much. Then your phone buzzed once.

And immediately again.

Your pulse jumped before your thoughts could catch up as you flipped the phone over.

Lexi

2 Messages

-

The bass settled somewhere beneath your ribs.

Every beat seemed to travel through the floorboards before climbing into your chest, loud enough that conversations dissolved into little more than scattered noises and laughter. People brushed shoulders as they squeezed past each other through the kitchen, drinks sloshing over plastic cups, someone yelling the chorus of a song that was already too loud to compete with.

You stayed tucked against the edge of the counter.

It wasn't that you didn’t like parties, per se. You found the change of pace quite thrilling from time to time. But you just never seemed to know where you fit inside them which made it a bit more difficult to enjoy fully. 

Your gaze drifted back toward the front door almost instinctively. Someone else stepped inside.

Not her.

Another group followed behind them.

Still not her.

You caught yourself scanning each unfamiliar face before you could stop. She said she'd come.

Well, she'd said she'd come with everyone else as Zach also invited them to the party. You remembered your own reply immediately afterward.

Okay that sounds great!

You closed your eyes.

God, the exclamation point wasn’t necessary. A sigh escaped through your mouth. Maybe you should've just liked the message. You dragged a hand across your face.

Right. Stop thinking.

The Sprite in your cup had long since gone flat. You finished the last swallow before weaving toward the refrigerator, slipping around conversations that never quite included you. Cold air spilled over your hands as you opened the door. Rows of bottles greeted you and you reached for a water without much thought.

You'd never been much of a drinker. Not because you had anything against it. You'd taken a couple shots back in high school, coughed through the burn like everyone else. Then simply... never bothered again.

Your bandmates certainly disagreed. According to them, alcohol truly gave them liquid courage. You'd always suspected it was less courage and more permission. The confidence had already been there. The alcohol just removed their inhibitions. 

Sometimes you envied that.

Watching them dive fully clothed into someone's pool because everyone else was cheering or having conversations for hours with complete strangers as if they’d known each other for years. They always looked… free.

Like they existed in their own skin without questioning where to put their hands or whether they'd spoken too much or laughed too loudly.

You wondered what that felt like.

The refrigerator door clicked shut behind you. You twisted the cap from the bottle before your attention drifted toward the oversized drink dispenser sitting on the counter. Bright pink mixed with who knows what. 

"Ah." A familiar voice appeared beside you. "The age-old battle." You looked over. Montero leaned against the island with low, heavy eyelids and a beaming grin. 

Yeah, he was gone.

"You versus not being a bitch." You snorted at his remark.

Though you weren’t as close with Montero as you were Zach, you still considered him one of your closest friends. Definitely one of your more “encouraging" friends.

Every party ended the same way. He'd offer a drink, you'd decline, and he'd shrug. Then repeat the process at the next one.

He never pushed hard enough to make you uncomfortable. He just refused to let you convince yourself staying inside your comfort zone was the same thing as enjoying yourself.

"I promise," he said, reaching for two clean cups, "we're not gonna let anything happen to you."

He filled both from the dispenser, watching the colors swirl together.

"I think it's got... vodka," he paused as the liquid got closer to the top. “Something and something else.”

“That’s very reassuring.” He shoved one of the cups into your hand anyway.

"C'mon." He lifted his own. "Small sip."

You looked down at the drink and it smelled sweeter than you expected. Almost deceptively so. You took a cautious sip with no immediate burn, just fruit. Then, a second later there it was. Warmth spread across your throat. But, it wasn’t awful. Montero's eyebrows lifted as he waited for a response.

"Not bad." You took another drink.

He placed his hand on your shoulder. "Come on." Before you could object, he was already steering you through the crowd.

Bodies packed tighter the farther you moved from the kitchen. As you walked, you offered small apologies to the bodies you bumped into. The house seemed to get noticeably fuller as the night progressed. You began to wonder how many people he even managed to invite. What was this party even for? It was the middle of June for crying out loud. 

For your pride, I guess.

Montero slowed as the back door came into view. Cool night air slipped inside every time someone opened it. He turned toward you, somehow managing to look serious despite the obvious alcohol in his system.

"Alright." He pointed toward your cup. You looked down. It was still nearly full. "Finish that and loosen up a little. Just for tonight, okay?”

"Monty–”

"And don't spend the whole night hiding in corners."

Before you could defend yourself, a figure brushed past both of you. His attention snapped immediately, eyes following the body into the crowd. You could only see the back of their hair assuming Montero was able to see them fully, which is probably why his face lit up so suddenly. 

"Okay so, I absolutely have to leave you, but remember,” He pulled away and pointed a finger towards you while stepping backward. "Comfort zone."

Then he disappeared into the crowd. You watched him weave effortlessly between strangers until he vanished completely.

You looked back at the drink in your hand. The music thumped through the walls behind you and laughter carried in from the backyard. Your reflection warped faintly against the surface of the punch.

Fuck it.

You took a longer drink. Then another. Until the cup was empty. You set it on the nearest table and stepped through the back door into the cool night.

Outside one a complete 180. It was looser, calmer. 

Groups had formed effortlessly, scattered across the yard and around the pool.

Your eyes caught Zach first. He was near the edge of the patio, laughing mid conversation, head tilted back dramatically. When his eyes landed on you, he lifted a hand in an immediate beckon. You started forward without thinking, and noticed a few heads turn your way.

And that was when you saw her.

Lexi.

She stood a little off to Zach’s side at first, turned ever so slightly, as if she’d been listening, but mainly observing. When she noticed you, something in her expression shifted. 

Then she smiled.

And suddenly the air felt different. You were very aware of every step between you and her, as the distance between you became smaller and smaller. “Hey,” you said when you reached them, “You guys made it.”

A few of the girls moved first, pulling you into quick side hugs, one after the other. Lexi waited until last. Her hug felt longer than the rest and when she stepped away, her hand landed lightly on your arm.

“I’m glad I did,” she said. Her eyes flicked briefly over your face, then back at the bass filled house behind you. “This is… a lot.”

Her hand lingered a second longer than necessary. Then she let go.

Slowly. 

Like she didn’t quite want to. You tried not to notice, and failed. 

“Just wait until they remember we have a pool,” you said, nodding slightly towards the house.

Lexi blinked. “What does that mean?”

You only lifted a finger to your lips, and hushed softly. The act made her laugh softly.

The group drifted a little farther out into the yard as conversation reshaped itself again. Camila was in the middle of a story now, gesturing with her cup and the others leaned in with interest. You stayed with them, feeling more at ease. It was strange, realizing that. The group was filled with soft laughter as everyone recalled their different perspectives. 

Your focus drifted in and out of the conversation. You caught words, fragments, the rise and fall of laughter, but something in you kept slipping slightly.

Lexi shifted closer at some point without you noticing. “Hey,” she said quietly. Her hand touched your shoulder. “You okay?”

Her expression held concern, but not alarm.  “Yeah,” you said automatically, then exhaled through a small laugh. “No, yeah, I’m fine. I think the drinks are trying to kill me.”

That earned a soft smile from her. “Not much of a drinker?”

“Not even close.”

You glanced toward the house, then back to her. “To be fair,” you added, “as fun as this is, this whole party thing isn’t really my scene.”

Lexi nodded. “Honestly,” she said, “me neither.”

You blinked. “Yeah?” you asked, a little too quickly. “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”

She hesitated briefly, then her eyes met yours. “I know,” she said. “But you asked me to come,” she finished, quieter now. “And I wanted to be here.” You looked away first. A mistake, really, because when you glanced back, she was still smiling.

“You’re quite the smooth talker,” she added, tilting her head slightly. You let out a short laugh, trying to reset whatever that moment had shifted.

“Yeah, well,” you said, rubbing your chin jokingly, “they used to call me the rizz god back in the day.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. You visibly regretted it. Lexi stared for half a second then reached out and held your arm as she laughed. “Oh my God,” she said, almost doubling over. “Please never say that again.”

The sound of her laughing made everything else feel further away. You laughed too, mostly at yourself and the ridiculous statement. She covered her mouth with her hand, still going.

“That sounded significantly better in my head,” you muttered. The group shifted again, conversation continuing without you two for a moment. 

Suddenly, someone called out, “Y/N!” 

Montero’s voice cut across the yard. A few heads turned and you groaned under your breath before you even looked up

“Can you go grab some towels for me?” he called. You shook your head, already knowing what was about to come. You could see him hopping on one foot trying to take his shoes off, almost tripping over another one of your band members doing the same. 

“I’m assuming this is what you mean by remembering they have a pool?” Lexi questioned. You just nodded and laughed together. 

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” Lexi nodded.

“Okay.” But she smiled again when she said it and it did something to your balance anyway. You stumbled, not sure if it was the alcohol or not, just hoping she didn’t pick up on it. You turned before you could overthink it, pushing back toward the house, the music filling your ears once again.

You collected the towels from the hallway closet, stacking them awkwardly in one arm. On your way back, Savanna stepped into view near the kitchen entrance.“Hey,” she said casually. 

“You guys got any more drinks?” You adjusted the towels.

“Yeah,” you said. “Kitchen. Fridge has the non-alcoholic stuff, counter’s mostly–”

She was already moving. You followed automatically, still talking as she grabbed what she wanted. You set the towels down briefly on the counter.

“Hey, Savanna?” you asked after a pause.

She glanced up. A welcoming smile, yet you hesitated.

“Do you know if umm,” you started. The rest of the sentence refused to come out cleanly. Savanna leaned slightly on the counter just waiting patiently. 

“I like to think I know a lot of things,” she said jokingly. You gave a small laugh still.

“Is Lexi… seeing anyone?”

Savanna’s expression changed in a way that told you she understood immediately. Not with any judgement or surprise.

“No,” she said. “She isn’t.”

Your fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the counter.

Before you could process what that meant, or what you were supposed to do with it, Savanna tilted her head. “You like her, don’t you?”

You looked down in response.

“Yeah,” you admitted. It felt too simple for something that complicated your entire body at the same time. “I just met her though,” you added quickly. “I don’t want to make it weird.”

Savanna hummed, leaning back slightly.

“Honesty doesn’t make things weird,” she said. “Hiding usually does.” You remained silent at the statement. The nerves filled your entire body, because honesty meant action.

And action meant risk.

“Thank you for your help,” Savanna said after a moment, pushing off the counter. “I think you should just tell her. It won't be as bad as you think it is.”

She passed you, disappearing back toward the yard. You stayed there a second longer than you needed to, the towels feeling much heavier now as you picked them up. The hallway even felt longer on the way back. More bodies made their way outside, making it easier to walk though this time around. You reached the corridor that opened toward the backyard.

Faint voices drifted from around the corner. Laughter and a little movement. Your steps slowed to a stop.

Zach’s voice first. Then another.

You turned your head without meaning to. It was only a glance. A reflex. Something your body did before your thoughts could intervene.

Zach’s profile was clear. Close enough to recognize instantly.

And hers.

Lexi was pressed against the wall, caught between him. Her hands hung loosely around his neck. Zach’s hands rested at her waist, steady, unwavering. Their mouths met again, continuing to move in sync without any rush.

The towels slipped slightly in your grip.You didn’t move. Didn’t step back, or forward. There was a strange absence where reaction was supposed to be.

The music around you kept going. Conversations continued and laughter echoed in various places. Everything else stayed normal. 

Except you.

A voice cut through the moment.

“Bro,” Montero muttered as he stepped back inside from the yard, stopping beside you without immediately noticing your face, then the scene unfolding in front of you both. “We got like twelve rooms in this house and they chose here?”

He shook his head, grabbing towels from your arms. Then he paused, his voice dropping slightly. “You good?”

For a second, nothing came out.  Then you nodded, “Yeah. I’m cool.”

The words landed wrong in your own ears.

Montero studied you for half a second longer, but ultimately decided not to touch on this subject until the morning. “Cool,” he repeated and turned back toward the yard. 

You stayed where you were for a moment longer, then followed.

tags: @young-mc | @youngmatador | @camdunez | @ijboljae zach and montero, my goat everyone.

“Wait, you guys are where?”

Zachariah's voice faded as he walked away, phone pressed to his ear. He handed off his microphone to a staff member without breaking stride and disappeared around the corner.

The rush of post show activity filled the space he left behind.

Cases rolled across concrete floors. Crew members wove between one another carrying coils of cable over their shoulders. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed loudly enough to cut through the noise before it dissolved back into the hum of backstage.

You tipped your head back and finished the last of your water.

When you lowered the bottle again, your attention caught on a flash of silver.

A woman stood near the wall.

The glow of her phone lit the edges of her face. Dark hair fell over one shoulder. Every few moments she brushed a loose strand behind her ear, only for it to slip free again.

She glanced up. Not at you, past you.

Searching.

That’s when you realized who exactly held so much of your attention. It was Lexi. You’re fairly sure it was at least. Zach had spent the better part of the last week talking about how he managed to invite Girlset to the show. Camila's name came up most often, but the others had surfaced in conversation too. A photo here. A story there. You remembered seeing Lexi somewhere among them.

Her gaze moved across the room before returning to her phone. The silver chain at her throat caught the light when she shifted. You looked away. 

Then back.

She was probably looking for Zach.

The thought settled somewhere beneath your ribs.

A stagehand excused themselves between you carrying an equipment case. When the path cleared, she was still there. 

Just say hi.

Simple enough. No need to make it weird. People introduced themselves every day. Yet your feet remained rooted to the floor. Maybe there wasn't any reason to.

Zach invited them. Zach would find them. You could save yourself the awkward conversation entirely.

The idea felt reasonable until she smiled at something on her screen. A small smile. One that was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. Before you could reconsider, you started walking.

The distance wasn't far. A few people crossed between you and her. Someone carrying lighting equipment. A crew member pushing a flight case. You slipped around them, suddenly aware of your heartbeat beneath the lingering adrenaline from the show.

What were you supposed to say? Hello, maybe? Every option sounded strange by the time you reached her. Then her eyes met yours. Too late to turn around now.

“Um, hi. You're Lexi, right?” Her attention lifted immediately.

“Yeah.”

You nearly forgot to offer your hand. “I'm Y/N. I’m a big fan of yours.” Recognition finally flashed across her face.

“Hi! Oh my gosh, thank you. I thought you did amazing up there tonight." Her hand slipped into yours. It was warm. Soft. The compliment landed harder than you expected it to.

The handshake lasted only a moment before you remembered to let go.

You looked away first.

“Thanks, you too–” The words escaped before your brain caught up. You stopped. 

“I mean you weren't performing so just um– thank you,” you finished weakly. A laugh escaped her. Not a loud one. Just one enough to showcase the dimples in her cheeks. 

“Well, thank you anyway.” A warmth spreads across your skin as silence settles in the air. You find yourself smiling still. For a moment, the noise of backstage seemed to soften around the edges.

“Are you here by yourself?” you asked. 

“No. Zach invited all of us.” She glanced down the hallway. “The others went looking for him.”

“That's unfortunate.” 

Her eyebrows lifted. “Why?”

“Because Zach’s instructions will add at least an extra 20 minutes to the trip.” Another laugh from both of you. The sound came easier this time. 

“Good. I thought maybe I was just bad at directions.”

“No, that's all on him.” 

The conversation settled into something easier after that. Not effortless. You still found yourself thinking too carefully before speaking. Still caught yourself noticing things you probably shouldn't. Like the way she listened when you talked. The way her attention never seemed divided even when people moved around her. 

Most conversations backstage felt temporary. People constantly in a rush to say what they needed and leave but Lexi didn't. She listened as though she genuinely wanted the answer. It made you want to keep talking.

“Ah, finally!”

Both of you turned. Zach appeared around the corner with three girls trailing behind him.

“There they are,” Lexi said.

“See?” Zach pointed triumphantly at the group. “Perfect directions.”

“You literally sent us in a circle,” Savanna said.

“Same difference.”

Kendall groaned. Camila looked seconds away from pushing him back down the hallway. You stepped aside as they joined the group.

Introductions followed quickly.

Savanna's handshake was firm. Kendall smiled warmly and immediately asked how long you'd been touring. Camila informed Zach that he was banned from giving directions forever.

“That's dramatic.”

“You didn’t even find us, security did,” she argued.

“Oh, was it Darren? I love him.” Everyone couldn’t help but laugh at his response, but you found yourself looking toward Lexi before anything else. 

“Anyways, come on,” Zach said, “There are even better places to be than here.”

The group started moving. Conversations split apart and reformed naturally as everyone walked. You ended up beside Kendall for part of the trip. You talked about how life was on the road for a band as there were many more moving parts that were harder to keep track of. She replied with a similar experience of her adjusting to her group's rigorous schedule. The conversation flowed easily. You didn't have to think about every word before speaking. You didn't have to wonder whether something sounded stupid. You just talked.

Then, Lexi joined the conversation, and suddenly you became very aware of yourself again. 

=

The lounge was quieter than backstage. Dim lighting, worn couches, and a scattering of tables pushed together near the far wall. Your other band members were already talking amongst themselves before you all arrived. After more quick introductions, everyone settled wherever they found space. The girls sat comfortably next to each other and the room filled with overlapping conversations. 

You drifted between discussions easily enough. The others were easy to talk to. Like people you'd known longer than an hour, but every so often your attention snagged on Lexi. 

Not because she demanded it. Quite the opposite, actually. She listened more than she spoke, and when she did, everyone seemed to pay attention. You noticed how she laughed before finishing some of her sentences. How she remembered details from stories people told. How she made space for quieter voices whenever conversations became crowded.

At one point Savanna was halfway through telling a story before getting interrupted.

Lexi gently redirected the conversation back.

“Wait,” she said. “You never finished.”

Something easy to miss, but you found yourself remembering it anyway. The longer the evening went on, the more relaxed you became. But every moment Lexi looked your way, it was as if you had never learned how to talk. Then every thought seemed to arrive all at once.

You lost your train of thought halfway through a story, forgot where you were going with a joke, and nearly launched into an explanation about audio equipment that nobody had asked for. Still, she smiled through it. The knot beneath your ribs loosened a little more each time.

Outside, the venue had begun to quiet. 

The crowd was gone now. The show was over.

Yet when someone checked the time and groaned about needing to leave, disappointment flickered through you before you could stop it. You glanced across the room. Lexi was laughing at something Camila said. The silver necklace at her throat caught the light when she tilted her head back. You looked away. 

The image staying with you anyway. 

tags: @herlondonboy | @camdunez

you want that girlset cookie so bad