Page 8 of Catastrophically Yours

SIX

UNCHARTED TERRITORY

She slipped from bed and pulled on her running clothes.

Twenty minutes later, her feet found their familiar beat along the river path, but today her mind resisted its usual organization.

Chris represented Drew's past—someone who'd defined her limits, convinced her she needed guidance.

But Piper had watched Drew perform, had seen how the audience leaned in when she played. That wasn't someone who needed fixing.

By the time she climbed the stairs to her apartment, one truth had crystallized: she cared about Drew's decision more than a roommate should.

She unlocked the door quietly, expecting Drew to still be asleep. Instead, Drew sat at the kitchen table with Pickle sprawled across her lap, phone face-up beside her coffee mug.

"You're up early," Piper said, setting her keys down.

Drew looked up with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Couldn't sleep. Pickle decided to stage a pre-dawn cuddle intervention." She scratched behind the cat's ears. "How was your run?"

"Good. Needed to clear my head." Piper poured coffee, noting the half-empty pot. "Want a refill?"

Drew lifted her mug, and Piper caught sight of the phone screen—a series of text messages with Chris's name at the top. Drew noticed her glance and sighed. "He's... persistent."

Piper handed over the refill. "Want to talk about it?"

Drew scrolled through messages. "He's being more specific about this opportunity. Apparently there's a showcase coming up—A&R people from Meridian Records will be there." She met Piper's eyes. "That's a major label. The kind that can actually change someone's career."

"That sounds significant." Piper sat across from her, wrapping her hands around her mug.

"It is." Drew turned the phone so Piper could see the screen. "Look at this."

Piper read the messages, Chris's words jumping out: Perfect timing for comeback , Always knew you had it , Just need the right guidance to shine . Each message felt calculated, designed to reel Drew back in.

"He wants to help me prepare," Drew continued. "Says we work well together, that our musical chemistry was always our strongest asset. The showcase is in two weeks."

Piper handed the phone back. "What do you think?"

"I don't know." Frustration leaked into Drew's voice. "A year ago, I would have jumped at this chance. But now..." She gestured around the kitchen. "Everything's different. I'm different."

"Different how?"

Drew was quiet for a moment. "When Chris and I were together, I was always waiting for permission.

Permission to try new songs, to book different venues, to believe I was good enough.

He made all the decisions because he said he understood the industry better.

" She met Piper's eyes. "But last night, when he started talking about my 'potential,' all I could think was that I've been developing that potential just fine on my own. "

Relief hit Piper hard. "So you don't want to work with him?"

"I didn't say that." Drew's smile turned rueful. "This is a real opportunity, Piper. The kind that might not come around again. Maybe my pride isn't worth passing up a chance to actually make something of my music."

Before Piper could respond, Drew's phone rang. Chris's name appeared on the screen.

"I should probably answer this," Drew said apologetically.

The conversation played out on speaker—Chris's practiced persuasion, the showcase details, the timeline pressure. Piper busied herself with sugar packets, trying not to hang on every word.

When Drew hung up, silence stretched between them.

"So," Piper said carefully, "what's your gut telling you?"

Drew pushed her hair back. "My gut says this could be huge for my career. But also that working with Chris again feels like stepping backward." She looked directly at Piper. "What would you do?"

The question caught Piper off-guard. Drew was asking for genuine guidance, not polite input.

"I think," Piper said slowly, "you should consider what you want your career to look like. Not just the destination, but the path to get there."

Drew nodded thoughtfully. "Chris always focused on the destination. Big labels, national tours, radio play. All the external markers of success."

"And what do you focus on?"

"Connection, I guess. Making people feel something. Finding ways to share stories that matter." Drew's voice grew stronger. "Last night, before Chris showed up, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be. Like the music was working the way it's supposed to work."

"Sounds like you already know what you want to do."

"Maybe." Drew reached across the table, briefly covering Piper's hand with her own. "Thank you. For listening without trying to decide for me."

The contact sent warmth up Piper's arm. "That's what friends do."

Drew's expression softened. "Is that what we are? Friends?"

The question hung between them, weighted with possibilities Piper wasn't ready to examine. "What else would we be?"

"I don't know," Drew admitted. "But it feels like more than that sometimes."

Piper's heart hammered, but before she could respond, her phone alarm chimed—time to get ready for work. The moment dissolved.

"Rain check on that conversation?" Drew asked.

"Rain check," Piper agreed, though she wasn't sure either of them would be brave enough to bring it up again.

Walking to work, Piper found herself hoping Drew's right choice wouldn't take her away from whatever they'd been building together. But she also knew that if it did, she'd have to find a way to be okay with that too.

Some things were worth the risk of losing.