I hum softly under my breath as I whisk the eggs in the skillet, pausing briefly to write a lyric idea down in my notebook off to the side. Fridge light washes this room white, moon dances over your good side.

A noise from the kitchen entryway makes me stop, glancing over my shoulder and smiling when I see you rubbing your eyes. “Morning, sunshine,” I chuckle. “Eggs sound good with you?”

To anyone else, this would look like a sweet morning between two lovebirds who live together. But not us.

No, I’m just crashing at your place for a bit before I have to officially start worrying about studio sessions, record label meetings, and all the boring parts that come with starting my solo career after the band parted ways back in December. We’ve been friends for years now, just friends (no matter what anyone else thinks), so you didn’t mind at all.

You also don’t mind me walking around shirtless, making you breakfast, playing my guitar in the living room, working out in the backyard, and bringing home your favorite snacks for a movie night every Thursday.

Why would you? We’re just friends.