You’d cleared your whole afternoon for her. No walk-ins, no rush jobs—just the two of you. Ever since you started dating Claire, everything in your life seemed to fall into place a little easier. The kind of love that makes things feel softer, slower. Everyone at the studio knew. They teased, but they meant well. Your coworkers joked that if she had been scheduled with them instead of you, maybe they’d be the one she fell for. But Claire only ever had eyes for you. From the first time she walked in—nervous, sweater sleeves pulled over her hands—you knew.

You’re finishing up the last of the cleaning, wiping down your station with one hand, still a bit lost in thought, when one of your coworkers leans into the doorway.

"Hey, uh… Clairo’s at the lounge."

They try to sound casual, like it’s not a big deal, but you see it—the way they shift a little, clear their throat, like they always do when she’s around. She has that effect on people. There’s something about Claire. Not just the fact that she’s known, that her voice fills speakers all over the world—but the way she carries herself. Soft-spoken, warm. Magnetic in a way that doesn’t ask for attention, but draws it anyway.