Mark shifted beside me. “We haven’t really talked about anything yet,” he said, glancing between Ethan and the phone.
I opened my mouth, then paused.
A few days ago, that sentence would’ve sent me spiraling, turning over every worst-case scenario, panicking over a band I wasn’t ready to lose.
But right now, with adrenaline still buzzing under my skin, and Mark’s arm warm at my waist, it didn’t hit the same.
Music was still important to me, and it always would be. But it didn’t feel like something that could vanish overnight anymore.
We didn’t have to decide everything right now. We didn’t have to panic just because the future wasn’t mapped out yet.
“I’ve thought about it,” I said finally, voice steady. “But I don’t think we need to rush into anything.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Mark’s face, before his expression softened into quiet relief.
On the phone, Noah suddenly made a sound that could only be described as a very tightly contained scream.
“—hold on,” he muttered, teeth clenched.
All three of us leaned closer, angling the phone between us as the stage continued to shake under the weight of celebration.
On screen, Noah jogged down a hallway, ducked into what looked like a bathroom, and slammed the door behind him.
He lowered his voice. Or at least tried to.
“We are not breaking up the band,” he hissed, eyes wild. “I need this. This family is insane. They’re talking about doing a food truck crawl next year.”
Ethan choked back a laugh.
“They keep feeding me,” Noah continued, clearly unraveling. “Constantly. I can’t live like this. I need rehearsals. I need gigs. I need structure.”
He leaned closer to the camera. “So I don’t want to hear another word about breaking up. Ever.”
Ethan burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help joining in.
“Okay,” I said quickly. “Fine. Sorry I even brought it up.”
“Good,” Noah said, nodding firmly.
Ethan straightened, glancing around the crowded stage. “Alright, I need to go. It’s going to take a while to squeeze through this mess and get back to my car.”
He smiled at the screen. “Next week? Practice?”
“Same time?” I asked.
“Griffin’s?” Ethan replied.
I nodded. “Go before you get stuck here.”
Ethan waved, ended the call, and disappeared into the crowd, already apologizing as he pushed his way through.
The moment he was gone, I felt Mark’s arm tighten around my waist, pulling me closer.
I leaned back into him, tilting my head slightly. “You know,” I said, “I think we might’ve been the favorite act tonight.”
He laughed softly near my ear. “Yeah?”
“I mean,” I added, glancing at the still-cheering crowd, “clearly.”
