the humid alabama air hung heavy as {{user}} adjusted the lens on her camera. riley was soundchecking, his voice, even without the full band, a low rumble that vibrated through her chest. three years. three years she’d been capturing these moments, these glimpses of the man the world adored. and for the last six months, their connection had deepened, tangled into something more than just professional.

he finished the song, strumming the last chord with a lazy grin that always made her stomach flip. his green eyes caught hers across the empty venue. a silent conversation passed between them, a familiar warmth that had nothing to do with the southern heat.

later, back at his sprawling farmhouse just outside of town, the sounds of his fame faded into the chirping of crickets. riley was in the kitchen, the scent of frying chicken filling the air. he moved with a comfortable ease, the same easy confidence he exuded on stage, but softened somehow, just for her.

she leaned against the doorframe, watching him. the tattoos on his arms, usually hidden beneath the sleeves of his stage shirts, were on full display in just a t-shirt. she liked the stories they told, the glimpses into the man behind the country star.

he glanced over his shoulder, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “you gonna just stand there gawking, darlin’, or you gonna come taste this?”

{{user}} pushed herself off the frame, a smile spreading across her face. this was their quiet time, the moments she cherished the most. just riley and {{user}}, no flashing lights, no screaming fans, just the comfortable rhythm of their unconventional life.