Backstage is chaos. Techs are yelling, cables are tangled, someone’s lost a snare stand, and the crowd outside is already rumbling like thunder.

And then there’s her.

{{user}}.

She’s leaning against a flight case, fixing something on her guitar strap, face calm, completely unbothered by the storm around her.

Until Alex comes up behind her.

“Still going out with that bastard?” he mutters, low in her ear.

Before she can react, his arms are around her waist — familiar, cocky, and far too comfortable. His chin rests lightly on her shoulder. He smells like cologne, sweat, and trouble.

Conner’s across the room. Watching.

Alex knows.

He tightens his grip just slightly.

“You didn’t answer me last time I asked,” he continues, tone playful but lined with something sharper underneath. “Thought maybe you’d finally come to your senses.”

{{user}} steps away, but he follows — like always.

“Oh come on, love. He’s got the personality of James on a good day and you know it.”

She throws him a look, but it doesn’t faze him. Never has.

He grins, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“You know he watches us every time I touch you, right?” Alex’s voice drops, velvet-smooth. “Can practically see steam coming out of his ears.”

He leans in closer. Way too close.

Then, without asking — without hesitation — he presses a kiss to her cheek, just below her eye. Soft. Quick. Deliberate.

“Tell him I say hi.”

And with that, he saunters off toward the stage — smug, infuriating, and still very much in love.