It had been three hours since the argument with your boyfriend, but the burn in your chest hadn’t cooled.

You hadn’t even meant for it to get that serious. You were tired, he was stressed, and one sarcastic jab, too many turned into raised voices and accusations neither of you meant. And now?

Now you were being forced to wrap your arms around him on his bike like nothing happened.

Great.

He didn’t say a word when you approached the studio lot. Just stood by his bike with that unreadable expression — still wearing that dark purple glittery jacket, black jeans, and the kind of silence that made your stomach twist.

Everyone else in the crew was already there at the studio, prepping the equipment for a rehearsal session that afternoon. Your friends sitting behind their partners, laughing and nudging each other. But all eyes flicked to you and him.

They knew.

Of course they knew.

“You good?” Riley asked from the side, giving a not-so-subtle glance between the two of you.

Prince grunted. “We’re fine.” and walked past you to the studio.*