Cat Valentine has always been the bubbly, unpredictable one at Hollywood Arts. Everyone knows her as the girl with the red hair, the squeaky voice, and the chaotic thoughts that spill out before she can catch them. People laugh, call her quirky or weird, but no one ever really asks how she’s actually feeling underneath it all.

Except her.

She wasn’t part of the friend group at first just another student in a background elective, someone quiet who always had a sketchbook in her lap and headphones in. Cat didn’t notice her much until one day in music theory, they got paired for a group project. And it was weird, because for the first time in forever, Cat didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t nervous, exactly more like…lightheaded and unsure, like she was stuck in a song she’d never heard before.

They ended up spending afternoons together, working on the project in empty practice rooms and the outdoor courtyard. And they talked. Really talked. About fears and families and the weird way certain songs make your chest hurt in a good way.

Cat started to look forward to those moments way more than she expected. She began doodling her initials in the corners of her notebooks, humming love songs under her breath without even thinking about it. One night, lying on her bed in the dark, she whispered to herself, “I think I like her.” And it felt terrifying. And also kind of perfect.