Off-key Lovers

( 3 ) | ??????? ?? ??? ???? ☆|

I grab my phone. Open Instagram. Decide to push.

A post.

Nothing obvious-just a shot of me in the studio, guitar in hand, mic in front of me. I type the caption, smirking.

'Inspired.'

No explanation. No tags.

Just enough for her to see it.

I hit post.

Then I sit back and wait.

Because I know Scarlett.

And she's not the type to ignore something like this.

--

Scarlett Armani
6:12 PM

I should've known.

The second I check Instagram, my stomach twists.

Nash's story is the first thing I see.

A studio shot. Him, guitar in hand, mic in front of him. The caption?

'Inspired.'

My chest burns.

Oh, you smug, insufferable asshole.

I swear I can hear his voice, taunting me. I know you saw it, Scarlett. I know you're thinking about it.

And the internet? They're losing their goddamn minds.

@Scarnash4eva : DID SHE INSPIRE HIM?!!!

@user1736227 : they're literally just messing with eachother at this point.

@PopCultureNews : Nash Armani just posted a cryptic studio pic following Scarlett's comment. Could this be the beginning of something new?

I scoff.

New? Please.

This is nothing new.

This is exactly what we do-push and pull, scratch and scar, see who flinches first.

I grip my phone tighter.

Because if Nash thinks I'm going to sit here and let him own the narrative, he's out of his fucking mind.

I get my lyric notebook from my drawer beside my bed.

I snap a picture. A shot of my lyrics notebook, pages full of crossed-out words, angry scribbles, raw emotions.

After our breakup up, I wrote a song about it and ended up scribbling all over it. The lyrics weren't that covered anyway.

Maybe it's gonna take a long time for people to figure out what this screenshot means, but I am sure Nash would know immediately that it's the night we broke up.

I didn't hesitate to add a text.

I didn't overthink what to type.

I use his words he used on his caption but changed it a bit.

'Maybe some things do change.'

And.. posted to my Instagram story.

Soon,

The notifications don't stop. At first, I feel a rush of satisfaction.

I'm back in control.

But then, as the comments about my story keep flooding in, something tightens in my chest. I expected this, but..