Tmf Oneshots, take two!

The strings of Hailey's guitar hummed in the quiet room, soft and uncertain, like they weren't quite sure what they were doing. Much like her brain whenever Jake Sterling decided to sit three inches too close.

"You're flat," he said with a smug grin, tapping the head of the guitar gently.

Hailey rolled her black eyes. "I was warming up, genius. Not everyone auto-tunes in real life like you."

Jake leaned back in the creaky metal chair, his arms behind his head like he had all the time in the world. "Please. My pitch is flawless. Ask anyone. Ask the hallway. They heard me crush that high note."

She smirked. "Pretty sure that was Milly's amp screeching. But you do share a tone."

He gasped—dramatically, as always—and placed a hand on his chest. "You wound me, Austin. Right here." He pointed at his heart. "I'll never recover."

"God, you're such a drama queen," she muttered, tuning another string.

"And yet," he said, tapping his coral-tipped fingers on the edge of her guitar, "you invite me to every practice."

"I don't invite you. You just show up."

"Tomato, tom-ah-to."

She strummed once, adjusted again, and tried to ignore the way his brown eyes were watching her instead of the instrument. His gaze wasn't annoying—worse, it was distracting. Infuriatingly focused, like she was a puzzle he enjoyed solving one sarcastic comment at a time.

Sean walked in, laptop tucked under his arm. "You two done flirting or should I come back in ten?"

"Not flirting," Hailey and Jake said at the exact same time, then immediately locked eyes and groaned.

Luke poked his head in behind Sean. "That was... suspiciously synchronized."

Zander followed last, carrying his sheet music and looking like he regretted stepping into whatever chaos was brewing.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear anything," Zander said dryly, heading to the piano.

"Same," Luke added, smirking at Hailey before setting up his drumsticks. "But you guys are getting obvious."

Jake leaned in and stage-whispered, "We're really not flirting, though."

Hailey didn't look at him. "Because I'd rather eat Milly's guitar picks."

"Yikes," Milly said, appearing like chaos incarnate in the doorway. "Those are strawberry-flavored now, FYI."

"Of course they are," Zander mumbled under his breath.

Rehearsal started.

Chords layered into rhythm, melodies wove together, and the music club did what they always did—made magic. Hailey took lead vocals on a new song she'd written, one that was slower than usual. Softer. Dangerous.

When Jake's harmony joined hers halfway through, her throat tightened.

They sounded too good together. Like secrets unspoken. Like almosts. Like maybe.

After rehearsal, the others trickled out, tossing teasing glances that Hailey pretended not to see. Jake lingered behind, as he always did. Of course he did.

"Hey," he said, quiet now, leaning against the edge of the piano. "That song... it's about someone, isn't it?"

She slid her guitar into its case carefully. "Maybe. None of your business."

Jake smirked. "So it is."

"Why do you care?"

He shrugged, gaze shifting. "I don't. Just curious. Whoever it's about... they're lucky."