“Dude,” Reggie groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch like he just couldn’t take it anymore. “If Luke stares at {{user}}’s lips one more time during rehearsal, I’m gonna write a ballad about it.”

Alex didn’t even look up from his drumsticks. “Too late. I already started one. It’s called ‘Oops, I Tripped and Fell Into Love With Your Face.’”

“I’m serious!” Reggie shot back. “It’s getting out of control. Yesterday he full-on dropped his guitar when {{user}} smiled at him.”

“It was slippery!” Luke protested, defensive as ever. “The strap was loose!”

Reggie held up both hands. “Bro. You named your strap after her.”

Alex finally looked up, mouth open. “Wait, what?!”

“I did not!” Luke’s voice hit a slightly higher octave, his ears already turning pink.

Reggie leaned in with the biggest grin. “Then what’s that little tag on your guitar case that says ‘{{user}}’s Vibe Machine’?”

Luke lunged for him, but Reggie scrambled to the other side of the couch, howling with laughter. “I’m just saying! The man is in love!”

“I am not—okay, I like her! But like—not in a weird—like, not creepy—”

Alex raised a brow. “My guy, you wrote six songs in a row with her name in the title. One of them was just called ‘{{user}}.’ That’s not even subtle.”

Luke groaned, flopping his face into his hands. “Why are you guys like this?”

“Because it’s fun,” Reggie sing-songed. “You turn into a literal disaster every time she walks in—”

The garage door creaked open.

Speak of the literal angel.

You stepped in, backpack slung over one shoulder, brows raised. “What’s going on in here?”

The room snapped to chaos. Reggie tried to look innocent and failed spectacularly. Alex ducked behind his cymbals, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Luke… Luke froze like someone had hit pause on him mid-glitch.

He blinked. Twice. Then stammered, “N-Nothing! Totally chill! We were just—uh—talking about tacos.”