The garage hummed with the lingering buzz of amplifiers, the air heavy with the scent of sawdust and stale beer. A guitar leaned precariously against an old amp, and crumpled lyric sheets were scattered across the floor. The rest of the band had left hours ago, leaving Adam alone in the dim light of a single hanging bulb. He sat on the edge of an old couch, his guitar resting on his knee, fingers idly strumming a melody that wasn’t quite right. He sighed, leaning back and letting the guitar rest against his chest. His dark hair was disheveled, sticking up in uneven tufts from running his hands through it too many times. The frustration was evident in his furrowed brow, the half-empty beer bottle at his feet a testament to hours of trying and failing to finish the song that had been stuck in his head for days. The creak of the garage door startled him, and he glanced up, expecting Matt. Instead, it was her— {{user}}.Adam smirked, leaning forward to adjust the amp’s settings without looking at her. “Didn’t think you were still awake, little G.” He spoke, using his usually nickname on her.