The hum of the crowd seeped through the thin walls, a constant wave of excitement that made her heartbeat skip in rhythm. Gracie was sitting cross-legged on the couch in her dressing room, guitar in her lap, her fingers absentmindedly tracing chords.

The door creaked open.

“Hey,” you said softly, leaning against the frame, your smile small but bright enough to catch her breath.

Her head snapped up. “No—” She set her guitar aside and stood so quickly the strap slid to the floor. “You’re here?”

You stepped inside, holding up your lanyard pass like proof. “Thought I’d surprise you. I missed you too much.”

She laughed, a little breathless, crossing the room in three strides. “This is—god, this is unfair. You can’t just show up like this and expect me to keep it together before a show.”