Chapter Text
The noise doesn’t end when Natalie steps offstage.
It follows her down the hallway, past tangled cables and half drunk crew members, clinging to her skin like sweat she can’t quite wipe away. The crowd is still chanting her name, begging for an encore, voices slurred and electric. It used to make her feel invincible.
Tonight it just makes her tired.
She tugs her guitar strap over her shoulder, jaw tight, boots heavy against the floor. Someone claps her on the back too hard, shouting something about her killing it. Natalie gives them a thumbs up without looking at whoever said it. Praise bounces off her these days.
“NAT!”
She barely has time to brace herself before Van crashes into her from the side, nearly knocking her off balance.
“Holy shit,” Van says, hands gripping Natalie’s shoulders like she needs proof she’s real. “You were feral tonight.”
Natalie snorts. “You say that every time you come to a show.”
“Yeah, and I mean it every time.” Van grins, sharp and proud, eyes bright with the kind of joy that only comes from watching someone you love do what they were born to do. “That third song? The new one? You scared the shit out of me. In a good way.”
Tai appears behind Van, one arm sliding easily around her waist. She nods at Natalie, expression composed but her eyes are warm.
“You pushed the tempo,” Tai says. “It worked.”
Natalie shrugs, but the praise from Tai lands differently. It always does. Tai doesn’t waste words. If she says something worked, it means she’s thought about it.
Jackie shoves her phone into Natalie’s face before she can respond. The screen shows a video of Natalie onstage, her hair wild, mouth open mid lyric, sweat and light caught in motion.
“Look at this,” Jackie says, delighted. “You look unhinged. It’s perfect.”
“I look possessed,” Natalie says.
“Same thing,” Jackie cheerfully replies. “The comments are loving it.”
Shauna hovers behind Jackie, fingers absently twisting the hem of her sleeve, eyes flicking between Natalie and the hallway. She smiles, soft and familiar, when Natalie meets her gaze.
“You okay?” Shauna asks. Not loud. Not performative. Real.
Natalie nods automatically. Then hesitates. “Yeah. I think.”
Shauna accepts that for now. She always has.
The five of them move like this easily. There’s a rhythm to it, a shorthand language built from too many late nights and worse mornings. They’ve seen each other in half lit kitchens and cheap aas apartments that smell like beer and ambition. Fame changes the scenery, but not this.
Van elbows Natalie lightly. “You almost stage dived.”
“I did not.”
“You leaned,” Van insists. “I saw the thought cross your face. That ‘what if I ruin everything’ look.”
Natalie smirks. “You know me too well.”
“That’s my curse.”
Tai clears her throat. “Your manager is looking for you.”
Natalie grimaces. “Of course they are.”
Jackie grins wider. “Smile and wave, rockstar. The machine must be fed.”
Natalie flips her off affectionately.
The teasing feels good. It’s grounding. This is the part of the night she can handle. The aftermath with people who knew her before the stages got bigger and the stakes got sharper. With them, she doesn’t have to perform.
Van leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “So. Afterparty?”
Natalie shakes her head. “I need a minute.”
“A minute,” Jackie echoes, skeptical. “You say that like you won’t immediately disappear.”
“She will,” Shauna says mildly. “She always does.”
Natalie shoots her a look. “Traitor.”
Shauna smiles. “A traitor you know is right.”
Tai squeezes Van’s waist and tilts her head towards Natalie. “Five minutes,” she says. “Then we’re stealing all of your snacks and leaving without you.”
“Rude.”
“You love us,” Van says.
Natalie does. Deep and recklessly. They’re the constants in her life. Van with her loud loyalty and unfiltered heart. Tai with her steady presence and quiet accountability. Jackie, all bright and ambitious, who drags Natalie into rooms she never would’ve entered alone. Shauna, who sees everything and rarely misses a thing, who knows when to push and when to just let Natalie be.
They’re family in the way that matters.
Natalie adjusts her guitar and starts backing down the hallway. “I’ll find you.”
Van calls after her, “Try not to fight anyone!”
“No promises.”
Jackie adds, “If you make out with someone hot, text me who they are!”
Natalie flips them all off again, smiling despite herself, and slips away before anyone can grab her.
The further she walks, the quieter it gets. The crowd dulls. The lights soften. Her chest finally loosens.
She just needs five minutes alone before the world demands something else from her.
She reaches the green room door, already picturing the shitty couch and open bottle waiting for her on the counter. Silence. Tequila. Breathing room.
Natalie pushes the door open and everything shifts.
— —
“Oh, what the fuck,” she says flatly. “Who the fuck let Lottie Matthews in here?”
Lottie looks up from the couch like she’s been expecting her. She’s sitting neatly, spine straight but relaxed, ankles crossed, hands resting loosely in her lap. She’s not scrolling on her phone or fidgeting. She’s just there. Calm in a way that feels intentional. Regal without trying. Like this is exactly where she’s meant to be.
Natalie hates that immediately.
“Hi,” Lottie says.
Her voice is soft and even. Completely unbothered by Natalie’s hostility aimed straight at her.
Natalie stays frozen in the doorway longer than she should, fingers still hooked through her guitar strap. Irritation flares first, sharp and reflexive. This is her space. Her five minutes of quiet. And then fascination creeps in right behind it, unwelcome and undeniable. She recovers fast. She always does.
“This is a restricted area,” Natalie says, stepping fully into the room and nudging the door shut behind her with her boot. “Models don’t usually get backstage access.”
Lottie’s mouth curves slightly. She’s not smug or defensive, just amused, like Natalie has said something interesting.
“I’m not usually a problem,” she replies.
Natalie snorts and drops her guitar case to the floor with a dull thud. “Everyone who says that ends up being one.”
Lottie tilts her head, studying her openly now. Not staring or appraising, but observing. Like she’s taking notes she doesn’t plan to share.
“That’s unfortunate,” she says. “I try to be considerate.”
Natalie rolls her eyes and turns away, moving straight to the bar. She grabs the tequila bottle, pours without offering, and takes a long swallow like she’s proving something.
She can feel Lottie watching her. Not in the way fans do. It’s attentive and it crawls under Natalie’s skin.
“So,” Natalie says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You lost?”
“No.”
“Kidnapped?”
“No.”
“Blackmail?”
Lottie smiles this time. It’s small, warm, and disarming in a way that feels unfair.
“Jackie invited me.”
Natalie freezes. She turns slowly, eyes narrowing. “Jackie? Jackie Taylor?”
“Yeah.”
That makes absolutely no sense. Natalie opens her mouth to say exactly that when the door swings open behind her. Jackie sticks her head in first, phone already out, grin wide and unapologetic like she’s walking into a punchline she wrote herself.
“Oh good,” Jackie says brightly. “You found each other.”
Natalie stares at her. “What.”
Jackie steps fully into the room, followed closely by Tai, who takes in the scene with one calm sweep of her eyes and does not look surprised in the slightest.
“Jackie,” Natalie says carefully, like she’s defusing a bomb. “Why is there a supermodel in my dressing room?”
Jackie waves a hand at her. “Relax. Lottie’s cool.”
“I don’t care if she’s cool,” Natalie snaps. “I care that she’s here.”
Lottie stands then, smooth and unhurried. The movement draws Natalie’s eye despite herself. She’s tall, elegant without being stiff, her presence filling the room without demanding it.
“For what it’s worth,” Lottie says gently, “I didn’t break in.”
“That remains to be seen,” Natalie mutters.
Tai clears her throat. “Jackie.”
Jackie grins wider. “Okay, so. Context.”
Natalie folds her arms. “You have thirty seconds.”
Jackie gestures between them like she’s presenting an exhibit. “Lottie and I know each other from modeling stuff. Campaigns. Events. Fashion weeks. You know, the glamorous nightmare.”
Natalie blinks. “You model?”
Jackie scoffs. “Barely. But I’ve been adjacent enough to recognize talent when I see it.”
Lottie smiles politely. “Jackie was very professional.”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me,” Jackie replies, delighted.
Tai steps in smoothly, grounding the moment the way she always does. “We’ve crossed paths before,” she says to Natalie. “Events. Panels. Fundraisers. She’s… known.”
Natalie flicks her gaze back to Lottie, reassessing. “So you all just decided to ambush me?”
“No,” Jackie says quickly. “I decided.”
“Of course you did.”
Jackie shrugs, unrepentant. “You’ve been in your own head lately.”
“I’m always in my own head.”
“Exactly,” Jackie says. “And Lottie mentioned she wanted to meet you.”
Natalie’s stomach flips, sharp and unexpected.
“I did,” Lottie confirms, meeting Natalie’s gaze without hesitation.
There’s no fangirl energy in it. No breathless praise. Just honest interest.
“And Jackie,” Lottie continues, “was very persuasive.”
Jackie beams. “I have a gift.”
Natalie exhales slowly through her nose. “So this was a setup.”
Jackie hesitates. Just a beat too long. “...I wouldn’t call it that.”
Tai sighs. “Jackie.”
“What?” Jackie says. “I didn’t know it would immediately be this intense.”
Natalie shoots her a look. “What does that mean?”
Jackie glances between them, clearly delighted. “I mean, wow. The vibe in here?”
Natalie opens her mouth to argue, but Lottie speaks first. “It does feel… charged,” she says thoughtfully.
Natalie snaps her gaze back to her. “You don’t get to comment on that.”
Lottie’s eyes flicker with something like amusement. “Why not?”
Natalie has no good answer. Jackie claps her hands once. “Okay! Great. You’ve met. My work here is done.”
“You’re leaving?” Natalie asks.
“Obviously,” Jackie says. “Before you stab me.”
Tai places a hand on Natalie’s shoulder as she passes. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice.”
Tai arches an eyebrow. “You’re being restrained.”
“Semantics.”
Jackie pauses in the doorway, pointing between them. “Text me if you make out.”
Natalie flips her off without looking.
The door closes and the silence settles. It’s thick, humming, and alive.
Natalie turns slowly back to Lottie, irritation still buzzing under her skin… but something else curling with it now. Curiosity and recognition. The unsettling sense that whatever this is, it’s already in motion.
She takes another sip of tequila. “Well,” Natalie says. “Guess we’re doing this.”
Lottie’s lips curve again, soft and certain. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
And just like that, Natalie knows. Jackie hasn’t set her up with a person. She’s set her up with a problem.
— —
The next knock comes fast and confident, like whoever’s on the other side already knows they belong here. Natalie doesn’t even look before the door opens.
Van sticks her head in first, grin already loaded, eyes bright with the kind of curiosity that usually spells trouble. She’s midstep when her gaze lands on Lottie. She freezes.
It’s barely a pause, but Natalie catches it. The widening of Van’s eyes and the quick recalibration. The unmistakable look of someone clocking a situation they’ve been waiting for.
“Oh,” Van says slowly, delighted. “So this is finally happening.”
Natalie groans and drags a hand down her face. “It is absolutely not–”
“Van,” Tai says immediately from behind her, voice calm but edged. One hand lands on Van’s shoulder, grounding, preemptive. “Be nice.”
Van doesn’t look away from Lottie. “I am being nice.”
Natalie shoots her a look. “You’re really not.”
Van steps fully into the room anyway, shrugging Tai off with practiced ease. She keeps her hands in her jacket pockets like she’s restraining herself on purpose. Her attention is all on Lottie now. It’s open, curious, and protective in that unmistakable way she reserves for things that might hurt Natalie.
“So,” Van says, glancing back at Natalie, then returning her focus to Lottie. “You’re the model.”
Lottie smiles, easy and warm. Not flustered or defensive in the slightest. “I am.”
Van nods, impressed despite her best attempts. “Yeah, that tracks.”
Natalie mutters, “I hate all of this.”
Van laughs and finally looks at her. “Relax. I promised Tai I’d behave.”
Tai clears her throat pointedly. “You promised you wouldn’t antagonize her.”
Van grins. “Same thing.”
Lottie watches the exchange with visible amusement, eyes moving between them like she’s piecing together a dynamic she finds interesting rather than threatening.
“You must be Van,” Lottie says.
Van blinks. “Okay, wow. Yeah. You already knowing my name is unsettling.”
Lottie tilts her head slightly. “Jackie talks.”
Van snorts. “Oh. Yeah. That tracks.”
Natalie presses her lips together, heat creeping up her neck. “Can we not interrogate the guest?”
“I’m not interrogating,” Van says. “I’m vibing.”
Tai pinches the bridge of her nose. “Van.”
“What?” Van gestures between Natalie and Lottie. “Look at them. This is a moment.”
Natalie turns sharply. “There is no moment.”
Lottie meets her gaze, eyes bright with amusement. “It does feel like one.”
Natalie’s stomach drops.
Van lets out a low, impressed whistle. “Oh, I like her.”
Natalie snaps. “You don’t even know her.”
“I know confidence when I see it,” Van replies easily. “And I know when you’re pretending not to be interested.”
Natalie opens her mouth to argue and realizes, a little too late, that everyone in the room is watching her. She closes it again.
Tai steps in before Natalie can combust. “We should go,” she says to Van. “Before you make this even worse.”
Van makes a face. “I’m making it better.”
“Out,” Tai says, steering her firmly toward the door.
As they back out, Van cranes her neck around Tai’s shoulder, eyes still gleaming. “Nat,” she calls, voice sing song. “Try not to bite this one!”
Natalie groans so hard it’s practically a prayer. “Get out.”
Tai pauses just long enough to meet Lottie’s eyes. Her expression is measured, thoughtful.
“Good luck,” Tai says quietly to both of them.
Then she pulls Van out, the door shutting behind them with a soft but definitive click.
Natalie exhales slowly, mortified. “I’m sorry about that.”
Lottie laughs. “Don’t be.”
Natalie glances at her despite herself. “You’re… not scared.”
“Should I be?”
Natalie considers it. “Probably.”
Lottie’s smile deepens, amused rather than alarmed. “I’ve worked in worse rooms.”
Natalie shakes her head, trying to reset, but the air feels different now. It’s charged, curious, and alive with something that wasn’t there five minutes ago. She reaches for the tequila again, needing the burn.
“Well,” Natalie says, gesturing vaguely toward the door. “That was Van.”
Lottie nods. “She cares about you.”
Natalie pauses, surprised by how easily Lottie says it.
“Yeah,” Natalie admits. “She does.”
Lottie gaze lingers. “That’s good,” she says. “It means you matter.”
Natalie doesn’t know what to say to that. She takes another sip instead. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she realizes the stakes just shifted, quietly and unmistakably, because now this isn’t just her curiosity anymore.
Natalie reaches for the tequila like she’s done this a thousand times. Like it’s nothing. Her hand doesn’t shake. At least not enough that anyone would call it out. She pours two fingers into a chipped glass, careless in a way that’s supposed to read effortless. It’s supposed to come off as rockstar casual.
Inside, her pulse is still sprinting.
She still doesn’t offer Lottie a drink. She doesn’t ask. She just takes a long swallow and lets the burn anchor her back into her body.
Lottie doesn’t comment.
She watches quietly from where she’s leaned back against the arm of the couch, hands folded loosely, posture relaxed but attentive. She doesn’t look bored, just present. Like she’s taking in the details without deciding what they mean yet.
Natalie notices anyway.
“So,” Natalie says because the silence is starting to feel loaded. “You always sit like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re being photographed,” Natalie says, gesturing vaguely. “Even when no one’s pointing a camera at you.”
Lottie smiles a little. “Occupational hazard.”
Natalie huffs a laugh. “Must be exhausting.”
“It can be,” Lottie says easily. “But it’s quieter back here.”
Natalie glances at her. “Back where?”
“Behind the noise,” Lottie says. “You know. After.”
Natalie stills. She takes another sip, slower this time. “You don’t look like someone who hangs around backstage.”
Lottie’s gaze flicks towards the empty doorway, then back to Natalie. “I usually don’t.”
“Then why tonight?”
Lottie considers her for a moment. “Because I wanted to see what you’re like when you aren’t performing.”
Natalie’s mouth tilts into a crooked smile. “Disappointed?”
“No,” Lottie says immediately. Too quickly to be polite. “Relieved.”
That catches. Natalie lets out a quiet laugh, the sound rough at the edges. “Careful. You’re going to flatter me into thinking I’m charming.”
Lottie’s eyes flick down to Natalie’s lips before returning to her eyes. “I think you already know you are.”
Natalie feels the heat crawl up the back of her neck. She hides it by pouring another drink. “Don’t do that,” Natalie says.
“Do what?”
“Say things like that,” she replies. “Makes me suspicious.”
Lottie hums, amused. “Of what?”
“That you want something.”
Lottie’s smile deepens, just a fraction. “What if I do?”
Natalie lifts her glass to her lips and drinks instead of answering. The tequila hits harder this time. She leans back against the counter, eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t strike me as someone who just… wanders into people’s dressing rooms.”
“I don’t,” Lottie agrees.
“Then why me?”
The question slips out sharper than Natalie intends. Honest in a way she immediately regrets. Lottie doesn’t tease her for it or deflect. She just looks at her.
“Because you don’t pretend to be calm,” Lottie says. “You just are what you are. Loud or quiet. Angry or soft. It’s… refreshing.”
Natalie scoffs. “You’ve been around me for maybe ten minutes.”
“And you’ve been very consistent,” Lottie replies.
Natalie laughs a short bark of disbelief. “You think I’m consistent?”
“In your contradictions,” Lottie says. “Yes.”
That lands uncomfortably close to the truth. Natalie shifts, rolling her shoulders like she’s shaking something off. “You liked the show?”
“I did,” Lottie says. “Very much.”
There’s no squeal in it. No breathless praise. Just fact. Natalie studies her, searching for irony, for an angle. “You don’t sound like a fan.”
“I’m not,” Lottie says gently. “I mean I admire your work. But I wasn’t there for the spectacle.”
“Then what were you there for?”
Lottie meets her gaze without hesitation. “The feeling.”
Natalie swallows. She makes a joke because it feels safer. “Wow. That’s either very deep or very creepy.”
Lottie laughs softly. “I promise I’m not creepy.”
“Jury’s still out.”
“Fair.”
Natalie exhales, surprised to realize she’s smiling. Actually smiling and she hasn’t done that much lately.
“You were good tonight,” Lottie adds, quieter now. “Not just technically. You felt… honest.”
Natalie’s chest tightens before she can stop it. She shrugs. “I just sing.”
“That’s not true. You tell.”
Natalie’s fingers curl around the glass. She feels suddenly exposed, like someone brushed a thumb over a bruise she forgot was there.
“You don’t get nervous?” Lottie asks, voice curious.
Natalie laughs immediately. Too fast. “No.”
Lottie doesn’t call her on it. She just watches her face.
“Everyone gets nervous,” Lottie says calmly.
The words land soft and still, Natalie flinches. It’s internal. A tightening. A reflexive brace she’s learned to hide well. Her jaw sets before she can stop it and she takes another drink she doesn’t need.
Lottie notices but doesn’t comment on it. She lets the silence sit, lets the moment pass without pressing on the bruise.
Natalie breathes out slowly, grounding herself. “Yeah,” she says eventually. “Well. I guess I’m just bad at showing it.”
Lottie nods. “You don’t have to show it.”
Something about that, the lack of demand, loosens something in Natalie’s chest. She glances at Lottie again, really looking at her this time. The soft curve of her mouth. The steady way she holds eye contact without making it a challenge.
“You always this easy to talk to?” Natalie asks.
Lottie smiles. “Only when someone lets me.”
Natalie huffs. “Guess that makes this my fault.”
“Maybe,” Lottie says. “Do you regret it?”
Natalie considers the question. The unfamiliar ease of being seen without being consumed.
“No,” she says. “Not yet.”
Lottie’s eyes flicker with something warm. “Good.”
Natalie lifts her glass slightly, an unspoken toast. “Don’t get comfortable.”
Lottie lifts an imaginary one in return. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Their smiles linger a beat too long. The air between them hums, low, electric, and unmistakably alive.
The room settles after that. Not silence exactly, more like a pause where neither of them rushes to fill the space. Natalie leans back against the counter, tequila warm in her chest, the earlier edge dulled just enough to make room for curiosity. Lottie sits again, crossing one ankle over the other, posture relaxed but attentive.
“So,” Natalie says finally, voice casual on the surface. “Let’s circle back.”
Lottie’s mouth curves. “To?”
“To why you’re actually here,” Natalie says. “Because I don’t buy coincidence.”
Lottie hums softly, considering. “You’re right not to.”
Natalie snorts. “Shocking.”
Lottie smiles, then looks down at her hands for a moment, like she’s choosing her words carefully. When she looks back up, her gaze is steady.
“This was… encouraged,” she says.
Natalie arches an eyebrow. “Encouraged how?”
“Jackie and Shauna,” Lottie replies. “Mostly Shauna.”
Natalie stiffens before she can stop herself. “Of course it was,” she mutters.
Lottie laughs quietly. “She’s very persuasive.”
“That’s one word for it.”
Lottie shifts slightly, settling deeping into the couch. “We had dinner a few weeks ago. Nothing formal. Just as people who keep ending up in the same rooms.”
Natalie takes another sip, pretending this is fine. “And?”
“And Jackie was talking about you,” Lottie continues. “About your tour. About how you refuse to do press the ‘right’ way. About how you scare labels and critics in equal measure.”
Natalie grimaces. “She makes it sound worse than it is.”
Lottie’s eyes soften. “She makes it sound honest.”
That lands harder than Natalie expects. She clears her throat. “Okay. So Jackie talks too much. Still not seeing where tonight comes in.”
Lottie’s gaze drifts briefly, like she’s replaying the memory. “Shauna asked me what I thought of your music.”
Natalie’s shoulders tense. She keeps her expression neutral. “And?”
Lottie doesn’t answer right away. When she does, her voice is quieter.
“I said it didn’t feel written,” she says. “It felt… extracted. Like something pulled out of you rather than put together.”
The words hit Natalie square in the chest. She doesn’t react. Instead, she scoffs lightly. “That’s dramatic.”
“Shauna didn’t think so,” Lottie says. “She nodded like I’d confirmed something she already knew.”
Natalie laughs, sharp and dismissive. “She does that.”
Lottie watches her closely. Not for the joke, but for what’s underneath it.
“She said,” Lottie continues, “If you want to understand her, you should meet her after a show. When the noise stops.”
Natalie’s grip on the glass tightens.
“And Jackie,” Lottie adds, amused, “immediately decided to make that happen.”
Natalie exhales through her nose. “I’m going to kill her.”
“She seemed pretty confident you wouldn’t.” Lottie says. “She said you’d pretend to be annoyed and then you’d stay.”
Natalie opens her mouth to argue and then closes it again. Because she’s still here. She shifts her weight, rolling her shoulders. “So this was a setup.”
“A gentle one,” Lottie says.
Natalie snorts. “Those are the worst kind.”
“Maybe,” Lottie agrees. “But you didn’t ask me to leave.”
Natalie meets her gaze. There’s something steady there. Patient. Not demanding anything Natalie isn’t ready to give.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Natalie says.
“Of course not.”
The way Lottie says it makes Natalie feel like she’s the one making a bigger deal out of this than necessary. It’s unsettling.
“You talk about people like you already know them,” Natalie says, trying to regain footing.
“I listen,” Lottie replies. “People tell you more when they think you aren’t trying to take anything from them.”
Natalie huffs. “You sure about that?”
Lottie’s smile is soft. “I’m not trying to take anything from you.”
Natalie studies her, suspicious. “Then what are you doing?”
Lottie considers her again. Not like a puzzle, but like a person.
“Seeing,” she says simply.
Something tightens in Natalie’s chest.
She looks away first, staring at the wall like it might offer backup. “Shauna always thinks she knows what’s best.”
“She does,” Lottie agrees. “But she didn’t tell me what to expect. She just said you were worth meeting.”
Natalie laughs quietly. “She has a generous definition of worth.”
“I don’t,” Lottie says.
Natalie’s gaze snaps back to her.
Lottie doesn’t flinch. “You don’t perform vulnerability,” she continues. “You bleed it. That’s rare.”
Natalie swallows. She covers it with a shrug. “Guess I’m bad at self preservation.”
“Or very brave,” Lottie counters.
Natalie shakes her head. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
“Am I?” Lottie asks gently.
Natalie doesn’t answer.
She takes another drink, feeling the familiar hum of deflection kick in. “So what? Shauna thought we’d be friends?”
Lottie’s lips curve, amused. “She said we’d either hate each other or understand each other immediately.”
Natalie scoffs. “And which one is it?”
Lottie meets her eyes, unwavering. “I’m still figuring that out.”
The honesty of it sends a quiet shiver down Natalie’s spine. She looks at Lottie again and for the first time, she wonders what Shauna saw. What she’d clocked so easily and calmly.
That this wasn’t random or nothing. Natalie sets her glass down carefully, like the sound might give her away.
“Well,” she says, voice light and controlled. “Guess you can thank Shauna for the introduction.”
Lottie smiles. “I already have.”
— —
The space between them changes without either of them meaning for it to.
Natalie is still leaning against the counter, fingers curled loosely around the edge, when Lottie stands. The movement is unhurried. No announcement or sudden step forward. Just a quiet decision made somewhere behind Lottie’s eyes.
She closes some of the distance. Not all of it. Just enough. Natalie notices immediately.
The room feels warmer, like someone turned the lights up half a degree. She catches the faint scent of Lottie’s perfume, something soft and clean, not sweet. Expensive without being loud. It settles in Natalie’s lungs before she can decide how she feels about it.
She straightens without meaning to.
Lottie stops a few feet away. Close enough that Natalie can feel the heat coming off her skin. Close enough to notice the steady rhythm of her breathing, calm and even, like she’s exactly where she intends to be.
Natalie’s pulse is not steady. She shifts her weight, forcing her shoulders loose. “You make a habit of standing this close to strangers?”
“Only the ones who don’t step back,” Lottie replies.
Natalie almost laughs. Almost. Instead, she tips her chin up slightly, defensive instinct kicking in. “You reading body language now?”
“I always do,” Lottie says. “It’s useful.”
Natalie hums. “Figures.”
The silence stretches. Charged and intent, like something is being tested without either of them naming it.
Lottie’s gaze flicks briefly to Natalie’s mouth before returning to her eyes. Natalie sees it. She hates that she sees it.
“So,” Natalie says, voice lower now, quieter. “You always this comfortable in other people’s space?”
Lottie smiles. “Only when it feels invited.”
Natalie’s throat tightens. She takes a breath she doesn’t need. “You’re assuming a lot.”
“I am,” Lottie agrees easily. “You haven’t corrected me yet.”
Natalie opens her mouth, ready with something sharp and finds herself hesitating instead. The words tangle somewhere behind her teeth.
Lottie notices that too. “You don’t let people close,” Lottie says softly.
Natalie’s jaw tightens. “You don’t know me.”
Lottie doesn’t back away. Doesn’t push. She just meets Natalie’s gaze, steady and unflinching.
“Not yet.”
The word yet hangs between them, heavy with implication. Natalie swallows.
She looks away first, focusing on the condensation sliding down her empty glass. “You always talk like you’re halfway through a conversation.”
Lottie’s voice drops, almost intimate. “Only when I think the other person will catch up.”
Natalie lets out a quiet breath that might almost be a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”
“Am I?” Lottie asks. “Or are you just not used to being seen without control?”
Natalie’s fingers curl tighter against the counter. “Careful.”
Lottie’s eyes soften, not offended. “I am.”
The shift is unmistakable now. The banter has thinned, stripped back to something quieter and more deliberate. Each word feels chosen. Each pause intentional. Lottie takes a half a step closer.
Natalie’s body reacts before her brain catches up. Her shoulders tense. Her breath hitches, just barely. She can feel Lottie’s warmth now, unmistakable, bleeding into her space like gravity doing what gravity does best.
She doesn’t move away. Neither does Lottie.
“You’re very still,” Lottie murmurs.
Natalie’s voice comes out rougher than she means it to. “So are you.”
Lottie’s lips curve, almost fond. “I’m waiting.”
“For what?” Natalie asks.
“For you to decide,” Lottie says.
Natalie lifts her gaze slowly. Their faces closer now. Close enough that Natalie can see the subtle rise and fall of Lottie’s chest.
Close enough that if either of them leaned in– They don’t. The moment stretches, taut and breathless.
Natalie becomes acutely aware of everything. The hum of the lights. The muffled noise beyond the door. The way her own heartbeat feels too loud in her ears. She’s painfully conscious of how easily this could tip. How little it would take.
She’s also painfully aware that she doesn’t want to be the one who breaks it. Lottie’s gaze makes its way back to Natalie’s mouth again. Lingers this time. Natalie feels it like a touch.
“You look like you’re bracing for impact,” Lottie says quietly.
Natalie exhales. “Habit.”
“Does it ever get exhausting?” Lottie asks.
“Yes,” Natalie answers without thinking. The honesty surprises them both.
Lottie’s expression softens into understanding. She takes a small step back. The loss of heat is immediate. Natalie hates that she feels it.
“Thank you for not biting,” Lottie says teasingly, easing the tension just enough to let air back into the room.
Natalie scoffs. “You don’t know that I wasn’t tempted.”
Lottie smiles. “I know.”
Natalie shakes her head, dragging a hand through her hair. “You’re trouble.”
“Maybe,” Lottie agrees. “But you’re not afraid of trouble.”
Natalie meets her eyes again. There’s something unspoken there now. Something mutual, unacknowledged, but very much alive.
She gestures weakly toward the counter. “You want a drink?”
Lottie glances at the bottle and then back at Natalie. “Only if you pour.”
Natalie reaches for the tequila, acutely aware of Lottie’s gaze tracking the movement. Her hand steadies as she pours. She hands the glass over to Lottie.
Their fingers brush. It’s accidental, but it doesn’t feel like it.
Lottie’s breath stutters. Natalie’s pulse spikes. They both freeze. Then Lottie takes the glass, stepping back just enough to break the contact. She lifts it slightly, eyes never leaving Natalie’s.
“To not knowing each other,” Lottie says.
Natalie lifts her own glass in return. “Yet.”
— —
The knock is loud enough to feel aggressive. Natalie flinches before she can stop herself.
“Nat?” Jackie’s voice cuts through the door, bright and unapologetic. “Reporters. And Van is placing bets on you and Lottie so hurry.”
Natalie swears under her breath, sharp and instinctive. “Jesus Christ.”
The moment fractures cleanly down the middle. Like a wire pulled too tight and suddenly released. The air rushes back in, cold and real. Natalie drags a hand through her hair, pacing once like she’s trying to physically shake something off. Her pulse is still racing. Her skin still feels too warm.
Behind her, Lottie exhales slowly. Not startled or flustered. Just recalibrating.
Natalie turns back toward her, already braced for embarrassment, for awkwardness and something brittle.
Instead, Lottie is watching her with the same calm attention as before. Her eyes are bright, mouth curved like she’s entertained rather than rattled.
“You’re friends are very loud,” Lottie says.
Natalie snorts despite herself. “You have no idea.”
Another knock. Louder this time.
“NATALIE!” Jackie calls. “This is not optional. People with opinions are waiting.”
Natalie grimaces. “Of course they are.”
She grabs her jacket off the back of the chair, shrugs into it with more force than necessary. The motion feels like armor going back on. When she turns back, Lottie has picked up her glass, leaning lightly against the arm of the couch like nothing happened. Like the room didn’t just tilt on its axis.
“You don’t have to come,” Natalie says automatically. Defensive and habitual.
Lottie lifts an eyebrow. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
Natalie pauses. “You… weren’t.”
Before Lottie can answer, the door swings open without waiting for permission.
Jackie barrels in, phone already in hand, eyes flicking rapidly between Natalie and Lottie like she’s watching a tennis match.
“Oh,” Jackie says, slowing. “You two look… close.”
Natalie glares. “Say one more word.”
Jackie grins wider. “I won’t. I’ll say several.”
She points a thumb back over her shoulder. “The press wants quotes. Van wants money. I want drama.”
“Shocking,” Natalie mutters.
Jackie’s gaze slides to Lottie, appraising and delighted. “You’re coming to the after party, right?”
Lottie blinks once. “I am?”
“Yes,” Jackie says brightly. “You are. I just invited you.”
Natalie whirls on her. “You did what.”
Jackie shrugs. “It’s a great party. Cool people. Loud music. Natalie will pretend she hates it and then mysteriously stay the whole night.”
“That is not–”
“It is exactly that,” Jackie interrupts cheerfully. “Also, you two were vibing.”
Natalie points at her. “Do not narrate my life.”
Jackie just smiles, victorious. “After party is at the loft. I’ll text you the address.”
Lottie’s mouth curves, amused. “I’d love to come.”
Natalie’s stomach drops.
Jackie claps once. “Perfect. Love a plan coming together.”
She turns the door, already halfway gone. “Five minutes, Nat. If you let Van talk to a reporter unsupervised, she will absolutely say something unhinged.”
“Wouldn’t dream of stopping her,” Natalie calls back.
Jackie pauses at the doorway just long enough to glance between them again, eyes sharp and knowing.
“See you later,” she says to Lottie. Then, to Natalie, “Try not to brood.”
The door closes behind her and the room settles again. The intimacy hasn’t vanished. It’s just suspended and waiting.
Natalie exhales slowly, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I’m sorry about that.”
Lottie smiles. “Don’t be.”
Natalie glances up at her. “You don’t have to come tonight.”
Lottie meets her gaze. “Do you want me to?”
Natalie hesitates. There it is again. That moment where she could deflect, joke, shut it down. She doesn’t.
“I don’t know,” Natalie says honestly. “But I think… yeah.”
Lottie’s expression warms, just a fraction. “Then I’ll come.”
Natalie nods once, sharp and decisive, like she’s made a call she can’t take back. She moves toward the door, pausing with her hand on the handle. She looks back over her shoulder.
“For the record,” she says, voice low. “This was not how I planned my night.”
Lottie lifts her glass in a small, deliberate toast. “Mine either.”
Natalie huffs a laugh, tension buzzing just under her skin.
“See you later,” she says.
Lottie’s eyes hold hers. Steady and intent.
“I’ll be there.”
— —
Natalie finds her friends near the loading dock, clustered together like they always are after a show. Van is sitting on a road case, legs swinging back and forth. Jackie is already filming something on her phone. Shauna leans against the wall beside her, arms crossed, eyes sharp and entertained. Tai stands a little apart, posture calm and watchful.
The second Natalie steps into view, Van’s grin widens. Oh no.
“Well,” Van says, dragging the word out. “There she is.”
Natalie slows. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Jackie spins her phone around. “Because you disappeared into your dressing room for half an hour and came back looking like you fought God and lost.”
Natalie scoffs. “I was busy.”
“Busy,” Van repeats. “Right.”
Shauna’s mouth curves. “You okay?”
Natalie nods too fast. “Fine.”
Van hops down from the case and circles her once, exaggerated, like she’s inspecting a crime scene. “So,” she says casually, “did you make out with the model or did you just stare at her mouth the whole time?”
Natalie chokes. “What–no.”
“That was not a no,” Jackie says gleefully. “That was a panic response.”
Natalie points at her. “Stop filming.”
Jackie grins wider. “Absolutely not.”
Van laughs. “Okay but seriously, Lottie Matthews? In your dressing room? Alone? With tequila?”
Natalie folds her arms. “She was invited.”
Jackie gasps dramatically. “By whom, I wonder.”
Natalie glares. “You are never allowed near my social calendar again.”
“That’s not true,” Jackie says. “You love when I interfere.”
“I love when you don’t.”
Shauna tilts her head, studying Natalie in that quiet, unsettling way that always makes her feel like she’s being read. “You’re flushed.”
“I just played a show.”
“And you’re smiling,” Shauna adds.
Natalie stops. “I am not.”
Van points. “You were. Just now. Tiny little smile. Like you remembered something.”
Natalie rubs a hand over her face. “Jesus Christ, you’re all exhausting.”
“And yet,” Tai says calmly, stepping closer, “you didn’t deny it.”
Natalie looks at her. “Deny what?”
Tai’s gaze is steady. “That she got under your skin.”
The words land heavier than the teasing. Natalie opens her mouth, ready with a comeback but nothing sharp comes.
She shrugs instead. “She was interesting.”
Jackie squeals. “OH MY GOD.”
Natalie snaps, “Do not make a thing out of this.”
“I already did,” Jackie says, angling her phone toward Natalie again. “Say hi to the internet.”
Natalie swats at the phone. “Turn that off!”
Van laughs so hard she had to grab Shauna’s arm for balance. “You’re so bad at this.”
“At what?”
“At pretending you don’t care,” Van says, grinning. “You care.”
Natalie shakes her head. “I do not.”
Shauna hums. “You do.”
Natalie throws her hands up. “I talked to a woman. That’s it.”
“Uh huh,” Van says. “And now you’re defensive, sweaty, and refusing eye contact. Very normal.”m
Tai crosses her arms. “Just be careful.”
Natalie bristles. “I don’t need a warning.”
Tai doesn’t rise to it. “You always say that right before something blows up.”
Jackie lowers her phone slightly, eyes still bright. “Is she coming to the party?”
Natalie hesitates.
Van’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh my god. She is.”
Natalie mutters, “Jackie invited her.”
“I knew it,” Jackie says smugly.
A PA pokes their head around the corner, calling Natalie’s name. “Press is ready.”
Natalie exhales, grateful for the interruption. “Finally.”
She heads toward the interview area, shoulders squaring, expression resetting into something practiced and neutral.
The questions blur together. Tour dates, creative process, the crowds. Natalie answers automatically, hands steady on the table, voice controlled. She doesn’t think about dressing rooms or perfume or the way someone looked at her like she wasn’t a spectacle.
She doesn’t think about how close they came.
When it’s over, she hands the mic back and steps away, pulse still elevated for reasons that have nothing to do with the interview. Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Natalie frowns, pulling it out as she walks.
Unknown Number: So… is it too soon to ask if you’re running toward the after party or away from me?
Natalie stops short. The noise around her dulls into a low hum. Her thumb hovers uselessly over the screen, pulse jumping in a way that has nothing to do with adrenaline or press questions.
She exhales through her nose, equal parts annoyed and amused. She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t delete it either. Instead, she locks her phone and slips it back into her pocket.
Behind her, Van calls out, “You good?”
Natalie forces a smirk and keeps walking. “Yeah.”
But the smile lingers longer than it should. And somewhere between the after party and the unanswered text, Natalie realizes this isn’t over.
It’s barely started.