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He nudges my foot with his. “Then hold on to it. I’ve known you since we were kids, man. You don’t talk like this unless it’s real. And I’ve seen how you are with her. Hell, even when she’s not around, you’re steadier. Like you’re finally anchored.”

I don’t reply for a moment. Just sit in it. Let the truth of it settle in my chest. Let it land somewhere deep.

“She makes me want to show up,” I say eventually. “Not just for the big stuff. For the in-between. The normal. Even the boring. I never wanted that before.”

Theo smiles, small and steady. “That’s how you know it’s real.”

I clink my bottle against his. “To not fucking it up.”

“To not fucking it up,” he echoes.

We fall into a comfortable silence, one of those rare moments where everything feels suspended. Just two friends, a sofa, and a truth that finally doesn’t feel too big to carry.

Theo kicks his feet up again, glances sideways. “You’re allowed to be happy, you know. You don’t have to brace for impact every time something feels good.”

I nod. Not just because I agree, but because I want to believe it.

Maybe this thing with Ellie doesn’t need a warning label. It just needs to be lived.

I lean back, let the cushion catch me, and let myself believe, for just a moment, that this could actually work.

Theo heads to bed not long after the race ends, muttering something about needing to sleep off the emotional whiplash I just put him through.

I chuckle, low and quiet, and toss a cushion that he doesn’t even try to dodge.

The apartment sinks into silence once he’s gone, save for the soft creak of the old pipes that run through the building.

I stay on the sofa for a minute, just letting the stillness settle.

My beer’s long gone—the bottle warm in my hand.

I set it on the table, stretch, and let the thoughts still rattling around my head lead me to the corner of the room where my notebook’s sitting, half-buried under a hoodie.

I flip it open and sit cross-legged on the rug, fingers trailing over pages already filled with half-thoughts and abandoned verses. The pen feels good in my hand. Familiar.

I don’t plan what I write. I just… let it happen. A few words, then more. Fragments. Glimpses. Whatever I can catch before they slip.

The curve of her mouth when she smiled at me. Her breath against mine when she whispered that she wanted me. The way she looked in the porch light, her cardigan slipping off one shoulder like the night was trying to undress her too.

The melody’s already forming in the back of my head as the lines start to spill. Nothing fancy, just a steady pulse, something gentle but sure.

I pause, mouth curling into a grin.

My legs stretch out in front of me, spine cracking as I lean back against the edge of the sofa. The page in front of me is looking like something whole. Still messy, but alive.

I glance toward the corner of the room, where my acoustic rests against the wall beside the amp. I hesitate for half a second, then reach for it, fingers curling around the neck like it’s instinct.

I don’t even bother plugging in. I want it raw. Real. Just wood and wire and breath.

The strings are cool beneath my fingertips, but they warm fast. I strum once, softly, letting the sound bloom through the stillness. A low, open chord. A starting place.

The rhythm comes first, lazy and swaying. Something you’d hum without even realising. Something that settles in your chest before it ever hits your ears.

I let it guide me, let it pull me along as my fingers slide into the shape of the next chord, then the next.

It doesn’t sound like us onstage. It doesn’t sound like a show. It sounds like Ellie.

The way she talks when her guard’s down and her hair’s a mess and she’s wearing one of those ridiculous oversized cardigans that make her look like she’s been living inside a cup of tea.

It sounds like her laugh when she’s not trying to be polite. Like the softness she gives to Mia when she thinks no one’s looking. Like the version of her that only comes out when she’s not afraid to take up space.

The hours slip past like they always do when I get in this zone.

At some point, Luca yells through the wall, asking if I’m writing another heartbreak banger or if I’ve finally grown a soul.

I ignore him.

I glance at the time. Past midnight now.

The world’s gone quiet. And I should probably crash. But I don’t.

I set the guitar down gently, scribble a few more lines in the corner of the page, then reach for my phone.

Thinking about you.

Ells [00:15]

Thinking how?

Loaded question.

Ells [00:15]

Waiting, Hayes.

That little noise you made when I kissed your neck.

Ells [00:16]

You should’ve heard the noises I’d have made if you didn’t stop.

Jesus, Ellie. You trying to kill me?

Ells [00:17]

You started it

I should’ve kept going. Don’t think I haven’t replayed the way your thighs gripped me.

The sound you made when I pressed against you.

Ells [00:18]

Kieran. You’re making it very hard to sleep right now.

If I were there, sleep wouldn’t even be on the table.

Ells [00:19]

What would be?

You. Definitely you.

Ells [00:19]

Fuck. This is a dangerous game.

Baby, I’m just getting started.

My pulse quickens, grin widening. The world narrows to just me, her, and the promise hanging between our words.

Tonight, there’s no fear.

Just her.