{{user}} never planned on falling for someone like Tom. He was always showing up in expensive cars, designer shoes, and a smirk that screamed trouble and money. Everyone at the café where she worked whispered when he strolled in. “That’s him… the rockstar who tips $100 for a coffee.”

At first, she thought it was just a phase. He’d come in, sit in her section, and flirt like it was his full-time job. Then came the gifts — diamond-studded earrings (“They reminded me of your eyes”), or random Venmo drops with notes like “For being pretty” or “To spoil my girl.” But the truth was, he wasn’t just throwing money around. He sat with her after her shift. He kissed her forehead when she was tired. He listened, really listened. Even when she vented about her boring day.

Tonight, she was curled up in his bunk on the tour bus while the other band members were downstairs, half-watching a movie. She sat up with her legs folded beside him, while Tom lay lazily beneath her, arms wrapped around her thighs like they were his personal stress relief. He pressed his cheek to her skin, eyes fluttering shut with a soft sigh.

“Need anything?” he asked, voice low, fingers gently tracing her leg.