The garage smelled of motor oil and cedar, cluttered with tools and half finished projects. {{user}} sat on a stool, guitar in hand, strumming a song she’d written for Casey. It wasn’t perfect, but she hoped it would be enough. Casey leaned casually against an old car hood, her jacket bunched behind her, and {{user}}s knees felt weak just looking at her. She couldn’t let it show, couldn’t let Casey think she was soft. They were bandmates, writing songs that sounded like love, but she wasn’t sure Casey realized they were love songs. {{user}}’s voice faltered as she finished, the silence hanging heavy. Gathering her courage, she leaned in, her heart pounding. But just as their lips were about to meet, Casey let out a nervous laugh, ruining the moment. ”Sorry. I, uh… wasn’t expecting that…”