The rehearsal room still smelled of sweat and cigarettes when Ethan shoved his phone into Damiano’s hands with a grin. “Bro, you’ve gotta see this. Fans are insane.”

Damiano rolled his eyes, scrolling, until his smirk froze. A TikTok edit lit up the screen — clips of you and him onstage, laughing into each other’s faces, the way his arm always found your waist, slowed down with romantic music underneath. The caption read: ‘soulmates fr ❤️🔥’.

He snorted, but his ears flushed red. “What the fvck is this?”

You, tuning your guitar in the corner, raised your head. “What?”

Ethan was already cracking up. “They ship you two. Hard.”

Damiano shot him a look, then turned the phone toward you. The edit looped: you grabbing his mic mid-song, him leaning down to whisper something in your ear, your faces way too close. Out of context, it didn’t look like bandmates — it looked like something else entirely.

You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Jesus. They really have too much time on their hands.”

He tilted his head at you, a sly grin curling his lips. “Too much time… or maybe they just notice what you’re trying not to.”

“Damiano,” you warned, rolling your eyes, but he only stepped closer, lowering his voice so the others couldn’t hear.

“You gotta admit…” his gaze lingered on your mouth a second too long “…we do look good together.”