Off-key Lovers

( 1 ) | ???????? ☆|

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9:43 AM

I strolled into the studio like I wasn't 23 minutes late.

Ophelia immediately stood up from the couch, arms crossing, face set in a glare. Uh-oh.

"Oh my god, Scarlett. You're literally 20 minutes late!" she snapped.

"23." I corrected without thinking, placing my handbag on a nearby table.

Her glare deepened. "That- that doesn't help your case at all! Ugh, whatever. You're not taking me seriously at all."

Why was she acting like I was a villain here? Okay, maybe I was a little bit of a bitch. But at least I am a hot bitch.

"I'm sorry, Ollie." I gave her my best apologetic look. "I just lost track of time, seriously. And I rushed. And then there was traffic. Totally not my fault." I lied. It wouldn't hurt anyone to tell a light lie anyway.

Ophelia rolled her eyes but still threw an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the recording booth.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But if you’re late again, I swear to God—I’ll kill you.”

I smirked. Six years, and she still puts up with my shit. No amount of money in the world could replace our friendship. I love her.

Now I have to do some recordings for my new song.

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12:44 PM

I sit on the edge of the worn-out studio couch, my fingers absently tapping against my thigh as I scroll through my phone.

I’m exhausted—recording all morning had drained me, and we still weren’t done. It was already noon.

My voice was already starting to give out, but of course, perfection wasn’t optional.

“Alright, ten-minute break,” Ophelia announces, stretching her arms above her head. “You good?”

I glance up at her. My best friend, my bandmate, and the only person keeping me sane in this hellhole of endless rehearsals. “Yeah,” I sigh, locking my phone for a moment. “Just tired.”

“Welcome to the life of a popstar,” she teases, nudging my shoulder before heading toward the door. “I’m grabbing some drinks from the vending machine. Want anything?”

“apple juice.” I mumble, already unlocking my phone again as she leaves.

I lazily scroll through notifications. Same old, same old— mentions, tags, random texts. But then-

Right there, staring back at me, is his post.

The same one that showed up on my feed this morning. The same one.

Why does his post always pop out on my feed? Especially when I just saw it already.

I scoff under my breath, ready to scroll past it, but Ophelia walks back in, holding two cans in her hands.

She was gone for 2 minutes only, the vending machine must not be jammed today.

“So, next run-through, we’re focusing on harmonies, yeah?” she asks, setting the drinks down on the table.

“Yeah,” I answer distractedly, still looking at my phone but half-listening to her and talking to her.

“And, later you need to—” Ophelia explains some shit about how we are going to record for harmonies and other parts of the song.