The studio was a beautiful mess—cables coiled like lazy snakes, empty coffee cups on the amp, and a half-eaten bag of pretzels on the keyboard. They were in the middle of rehearsals for the upcoming tour, but for now, it was break time. The kind where everyone scattered for snacks or FaceTimes, leaving just Cole and {{user}} lingering near the drum kit.

“You’ve been eyeing the drums for like… three days now,” he said, tossing her a bottle of water as he leaned against a stool. “You wanna try?”

{{user}} raised an eyebrow. “No I haven’t.”

“Liar,” he grinned. “You’ve been side-eyeing them like they insulted your cooking.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “Fine. Maybe I’m curious. But don’t expect greatness.”

“No one expects greatness,” Cole said, grabbing a pair of sticks and twirling them with ridiculous flair. “We’re aiming for ‘doesn’t accidentally hit herself in the face.’”

“Reassuring,” she muttered as she took his spot behind the kit.

He moved beside her, crouching just close enough to guide her without hovering. “Okay, right foot here—bass pedal. Left hand here—snare. Just feel it. Don’t overthink.”

“I literally have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Exactly. That’s where all the fun is.”

She tried the rhythm he showed her, slightly off-beat but enthusiastic. The snare rang out a little too soon and the hi-hat followed a split second too late. Cole laughed—not mocking, just amused.

“Okay, that was chaotic,” she admitted, breathless.

“Pure chaos,” he nodded. “But, like, adorable chaos.”

He reached out and gently adjusted her grip, his fingers brushing over hers, warm and sure. “Here—loosen your wrist. You’re gripping it like it’s a sword.”