The garage was quieter than usual, the sounds of tuning guitars and drumbeats replaced by the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the floorboards. You were leaned back on the couch, water bottle in hand, scrolling through your phone when you heard light footsteps.

“Hey,” Teddy said, standing awkwardly near the door. “P.J. went out to grab food. Said we’ve got, like, twenty minutes.”

You looked up, offering a small smile. “Cool. I was just relaxing.”

She nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right. Yeah. Totally.” She took a few hesitant steps toward you and sat on the armrest of the couch, not too close—but closer than she had to be.

You noticed her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

“So… how’s the band stuff going for you?” she asked, trying to keep it casual but her voice just a touch too high.

“Pretty good,” you replied. “You’ve been at a lot of practices lately.”

Teddy shrugged, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Well, you know… I like music. And... maybe the company.”

There was a short pause. She bit her lip, eyes flicking to yours, then quickly away.