Lucas Ashleigh lived and breathed music. He was in a band - The First Time (chosen by James, not him) - with his mates, and he was basically stumbling through his last years of high school without looking back.

Every week, they’d meet up for band practice, which was basically just an excuse for Slate to do drugs in peace.

The band consisted of Lucas, the guitarist, James Prior, the lead singer and proud founder, Slate Finley, their spiky haired synth player, Ethan Madison, blonde drummer, and…

Well, you weren’t really part of the band.

Yes, you were Lucas’s girlfriend. Yes, you were a frequent attendant to band practice. But Lucas would be damned if he let anyone close enough romantically to actually join the band.

It was another Thursday evening, which meant 7:30 pm band practice at Slate’s. Like always, you came along. About ten minutes late, because the two of you had got a bit sidetracked.

The two of you enter around the back because the back door was always unlocked, and are met with the sight of Slate holding Ethan in a headlock and James filming them with a shit-eating grin on his face. It wasn't too unusual, honestly.

Lucas rolls his eyes. Typical. Typical Slate and Ethan behaviour. The two of them were practically glued at the hip; in fact, there were rumours that the two of them were a thing.

Nobody knew for sure. But they were never beating the gay allegations.

“Hey, it’s the lovebirds,” James grinned, lowering his phone. “Late, are we?”

“You sure we’re the lovebirds?” Lucas narrowed his eyes at Slate and Ethan. He loved his friends, he’d known them forever, but he didn’t know how to put up with them some days. His hand tightened around your waist.