#third plane… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blank-potato · 1 month ago

Text

Way Cool Baby Love

Pairing: Lottie Matthews x Natalie Scatorccio

Summary:

But if she wasn’t, then why was there a popstar sitting on her bed? Sure she was wearing an all grey ensemble, her soft, brown hair poking out of her hood and tacky, red heart sunglasses but she’d have to be very drunk or very high to not recognise her. Her face had been in her face for the past few weeks, after all. “Uhh,” was all Nat managed to say as she dropped her Discman onto the floor. “Hi,” she replies sweetly as if she didn't just break into her room, “if you let me hide out here for a minute, I’ll give you an autograph.” Natalie wasn’t often left speechless, but this… this was something else. “I don’t really listen to your stuff,” she said bluntly. “Oh.” Or Lottie is a popstar performing at the university Nat goes to and everyone won’t shut up about it. But after a fated meeting, Nat starts to understand the hype around the Lottie Matthews.

Tags/Warnings: Popstar AU and College AU, fluff and angst but happy ending, set in 90s, mentions of childhood trauma and abuse, a little period typical homophobia, Nat and Lottie’s mental health issues, substance abuse, idiots in love, Taivan being supportive, mentioning regionals and nationals so much you'd think I was writing about glee or the next step

WC: 14.9K

A/N: Title from Way Cool Baby Love by DAISY because I was listening to it when I thought of this, and I watched Jade’s episode of Paper Dolls (good show!) and felt inspired. I also think pre-crash Lottie would make a great popstar. This was sooo much fun to write, even though it took forever. Enjoy LottieNat being cute!

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

Lottie.

The entire campus had been going batshit crazy for the past few weeks over her.

Someone had even run into one of her seminars, screaming bloody murder about her performing at their precious college.

Nat had to give it to the university, though. The fact that they got the “biggest popstar in the world” to perform was nothing to scoff at, but she’d still do it.

Her face was plastered across campus like everything revolved around her coming here; the whole thing was being shoved down her throat.

She was at soccer practice, and even then, they talked about her. After practice ended, “Lottie talks” were in full swing, whispers and speculation buzzing louder than the sound of cleats on pavement.

“Are you saying you’re not the least bit excited?” Van asked her, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, even I'm excited.” Tai chimed in, stuffing her gear into her duffel bag.

“There’s more important shit to focus on. Regionals, anyone?” Nat shot back, rolling her eyes as she laced up her boots.

"I love her whole first album," Laura Lee says, gushing over the artist.

"But her newest single is also so good!" Akilah chimes in, practically bouncing with excitement.

Laura Lee nods enthusiastically. "Right? It’s different from her old stuff, but in the best way."

"I know! The lyrics just speak to me, you know? I had it on repeat all day yesterday."

They exchange a knowing look before simultaneously singing the words. Nat had to listen to them in the locker room, their painfully bad rendition of whatever song they were attempting to sing. Soon, the whole team was singing along, and it was pitchy and off-key, but as long as they were having fun, right? Van grinned and pulled her to her feet. Nat wasn’t a stick in the mud, so she danced, plus even though the team’s singing wasn’t amazing, she thought the song was quite catchy.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

Finally, the day had arrived, and the buzz on campus was undeniable.

She was going to show up, do some sort of Q&A or guest talk at the university, then perform later on at the festival. It was rare to book her for two events at a time, but Nat knew that Rutgers had been her mother’s alma mater.

How she knew this was definitely not because she was investigating her or anything. Her superfans were all over campus, so it was easy to pick up on all sorts of Lottie facts—like her favourite colour is green, she has a dog named Milo, she’s an only child, and she used to play soccer when she was younger before the whole mega-stardom thing kicked in.

It seemed the universe and everyone she knew were making sure she’d be at the concert that night. She’d missed the Q&A in favour of getting in some practice, but this was unavoidable. She was dragged out of her dorm, and before she knew it, she was standing in the crowd next to Jackie and Shauna, the two of them practically buzzing with anticipation, waiting in excitement as they held onto each other, chatting excitedly.

“Lighten up, she’s great. You’ll see,” Jackie said, nudging Nat with her elbow.

Before she could respond, a burst of blue smoke filled the stage, and the crowd went wild. Amidst the smoke, there she was. Lottie, in her sparkly midnight-blue stage outfit, shimmered under the bright lights.

A ray of sunshine and confidence personified, Nat imagined that this was probably life-changing for some people, but she could understand the appeal. She had stage presence and charm, she was pretty, with wavy brown hair and doe eyes that made her seem approachable, like she was still the girl next door, even though she clearly wasn’t anymore.

The first song starts, and Nat swears she loses hearing for a split second at the sound of the crowd cheering, the noise hitting her like a wave.

As she sings and dances, Nat sees that no one could deny that she was talented, executing her choreography flawlessly, with ease like she wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

Without even realising it, Nat found herself swaying alongside Jackie and Shauna as they sang along to the lyrics, smiling at their giddy excitement before looking back at the pop star, who had the entire crowd wrapped around her finger.

The whole audience was captured by her, herself included. At one point, it felt like the rest of the crowd melted away, and she was just singing to her. Nat wondered how the hell she did that and if anyone else felt it too.

It was impressive.

She briefly wonders if this is what joining a cult feels like.

When her last song finished, Lottie waved out to the crowd, soaking in the roaring applause. Now, she might just be imagining it; her slightly sleep-deprived brain could be playing tricks on her, but for a split second, their eyes met. It was brief, barely half a second, but she felt it. And she couldn’t help but wonder…did she feel it too?

Before she could dwell on it any longer, her friends pulled her back to reality.

“Good, right?” Shauna grinned, nudging her.

“Yeah,” she murmured, still a little dazed. “She was great.”

“Told you so.”

Nat barely registered the conversation, her gaze lingering on the stage as the singer disappeared backstage.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

They went to get hot dogs from the campus food cart. They kept them late for events and stuff, overpriced but oh so worth it. The blonde takes a big bite, humming in contentment as she chews.

“Is it the hot dog, or is it Lottie?” Jackie teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?” Nat asked, narrowing her eyes.

“We saw how you were looking at her.”

Great. Now they were teaming up on her.

“Everyone was looking at her. I didn’t look at her in any particular way,” Nat replied defensively, wiping her hands on a napkin. She was doing her whole popstar thing, and it was appreciated. Can’t a girl appreciate a performance?

“I’m done with you’re interrogations, I’m going to bed.”

"C'mon, Nat–"

"Goodnight, bitches," Nat says with a tired smile, and they don’t question it.

The long, quiet walk back to her dorm is almost relaxing. She puts on her headphones, sliding a disc into her Discman–some album she’d played a hundred times before but never got sick of.

Outside her building, she pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with practised ease. She takes a slow drag, the burn in her lungs grounding her for a moment. Sure, she felt fine, but she wondered how it all looked from the outside. How did she seem to them? She couldn’t have been—

“Fuck…” she mutters to herself, exhaling a stream of smoke into the cold night air. With a sigh, she stubs out the cigarette on the pavement, then heads inside. She takes the stairs two at a time, the climb up leaving her slightly breathless.

Then she swings open her door—

And freezes.

Because she seems to be something that can only be deemed as impossible.

Had she been drinking? Not tonight, at least.

Was she high? No, that wasn’t it either.

Was she dreaming? Maybe…

But if she wasn’t, then why was there a popstar sitting on her bed?

Sure she was wearing an all grey ensemble, her soft, brown hair poking out of her hood and tacky, red heart sunglasses but she’d have to be very drunk or very high to not recognise her. Her face had been in her face for the past few weeks, after all.

“Uhh,” was all Nat managed to say as she dropped her Discman onto the floor.

“Hi,” she replies sweetly as if she didn't just break into her room, “if you let me hide out here for a minute, I’ll give you an autograph.”

Natalie wasn’t often left speechless, but this… this was something else.

“I don’t really listen to your stuff,” she said bluntly.

“Oh.”

A beat of silence.

“No offence, but–”

“No, no, I get it,” the singer interrupted quickly, trying to play it off. But Natalie could see it. She was flustered, embarrassed, caught off guard in a way she clearly hadn’t expected. Then again, Natalie hadn’t expected those words to come out of her own mouth, either.

“How did you get in here?”

Finally, the fact that she had broken and entered fully registered in Natalie’s brain.

“Your window was open,” the singer replied matter-of-factly.

“I live on the second floor.”

“I’m good at climbing?” she offered with a small shrug.

Okay. Pop princess was also a spider. Another tidbit for Nat to file away with the rest of her Lottie facts.

“Well… are you gonna stay in here all night, or am I eventually getting my bed back?”

“I just need to wait a bit longer,” the singer says, glancing toward the window. “My position got compromised, and I lost my assistant.”

“Compromised? Who are you, the president?” Nat mutters under her breath, except she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

It seems her mouth and her brain are completely disconnected tonight.

“I’m, uh… Lottie, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Lottie lets out a small, awkward laugh. “Figured. I just didn’t know what to say…”

Natalie leans against the wall, arms crossed. “I’m Natalie. Well, I go by Nat.”

Lottie nods, as if turning the name over in her head.

“Thanks for letting me hijack your room, Nat.”

And before she can revel in the way she said her name like it was a symphony, she says, "As if I had a choice."

Nat’s foot-in-mouth disease was in full effect as nothing she said seemed to land the right way. She was honestly surprised she hadn’t had a shoe thrown at her by now. But Lottie just sat there. Not offended, not annoyed. Just… watching her. A little awkward, a little unsure. So different from the girl Nat had seen on stage just thirty minutes ago.

"Again, sorry…" Nat muttered.

"It's okay." Lottie glanced around the room, taking it in. "So…" she started, her eyes flicking from the cluttered desk to the walls, covered in band posters and ticket stubs. "If you don’t listen to my stuff, what do you listen to?"

She stood, walking over to the wall, fingertips grazing a worn-out poster.

"Nirvana?" she guessed.

"Yeah…" Nat said, watching her. "Among others."

Lottie hummed, nodding as she scanned the rest of the room. "Makes sense."

Nat wasn’t sure what that meant, but for once, she held back the urge to blurt something out that she’d regret.

Lottie's phone buzzes with an incoming call. She glances at the screen before putting it on speaker.

“Hey.”

“Lottie, where are you?” her manager, Penelope, asks, sounding out of breath, probably trying to outrun a crowd of fans.

Lottie looks around the room, then at the blonde in front of her.

“Somewhere safe.”

Penelope exhales sharply, clearly relieved. “We managed to get things under control, and most of the fans have dispersed. You just need to get to the south entrance of campus. Security will meet you there.”

Lottie sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. “Got it.”

She ends the call and glances at Nat, who’s watching her with an unreadable expression.

“So…” Nat says slowly. “You planning on climbing back out the window, or should I show you the front door like a normal person?”

Lottie gets up and puts her ear to the door… there’s movement. The sound of footsteps creaking against the wooden floor and late-night stragglers talking in hushed voices or on their way to the kitchen.

She turns and says, “Window.”

“Wait, what?”

Nat hadn't imagined that this year's "It Girl" would be a complete psycho with no regard for her safety, the way she's totally cool with climbing up and down buildings.

“There’s people out there, and if they see me coming out of here...”

Lottie lets her words fade to silence, the implication clear. “Lottie Matthews sneaks out of college dorm”, would be in every magazine across the country by morning.

“So you’d rather people see you scaling out a window?” Nat replies with a scoff.

“It’s dark, so no one will see.”

Taking a pause, Lottie looks back at her and offers a small, almost hesitant smile.

"It was nice meeting you, Nat."

As she readies herself to climb out the window Nat doesn’t know what it is, maybe that dreaded foot-in-mouth disease but she says, “Do you need help? I know the best shortcuts around campus.”

The genuine smile pops onto her face as she grabs Nat's arm, her excitement practically buzzing in the air. “You’re a lifesaver.”

They started climbing out of the window, and this was definitely not Nat’s usual Friday night activity. She’d usually be getting drunk in Kevyn’s dorm room or passing a joint around a bonfire, so maybe this was an upgrade?

They step out carefully, eyeing the long drop below. There was a tree they could use to climb down, its branches stretching just close enough to the window. But it was still a long way down, and Nat didn’t even want to question how Lottie had made it up there in the first place.

They move awkwardly, crashing into one another as they try to find their footing. Nat grips the window frame, muttering, “This is so stupid.”

Lottie just laughs, already halfway down, looking back at her with that wild glint in her eye. “Then why does it feel so fun?”

They inch their way down, gripping the rough bark as if their lives depended on it. The wind rustles through the leaves, making the branches just enough to spike Nat’s adrenaline.

They make good progress, carefully following Lottie’s lead. But then, Nat reaches the last branch. Too high to simply step down, too low to climb back up.

She’d have to jump.

Lottie looks up, her arms slightly outstretched, a reassuring smile on her face. “I can help you down.”

Nat hesitates for only a second before pushing off. Lottie catches her waist, steadying her as she lands. Their noses accidentally bump, and for a brief moment, the world feels smaller, quieter.

Nat clears her throat. “Thanks.”

Lottie’s hands linger a second longer than necessary before she finally lets go, “Anytime. So..which way now?”

The mental map of the campus in her brain lit up like a puzzle snapping into place. They needed to move fast. She glanced around, thinking of the quickest and quietest route to their destination.

“Quick, this way.”

Nat grabbed her wrist, leading her down a dimly lit side path between buildings, their footsteps muffled against the grass.

“If we go down this walkway, cut through the academic buildings, then take a left at the parking lot and go across the soccer field, we’ll be there in no time.”

Lottie nodded, “I’ll follow your lead.”

They walk briskly, their footsteps barely making a sound against the pavement. The night air felt heavier now, thick with the tension of being caught.

Almost as soon as they start down the walkway, voices drift toward them, a casual conversation about an Anthropology class gone wild, getting closer.

Lottie’s heart jolts.

“Wait.” Nat grabs her arm, pulling them both into the shadows beside a vending machine. They were close, and they found themselves pressed against one other, Nat’s chin resting against her shoulder as she inadvertently had Lottie pinned against the machine. She can smell the faint traces of shampoo, it’s warm and familiar. She smells like honey and something floral, like dreams and summer nights.

She’s grateful she didn't visit Kevyn like she'd planned to because otherwise, she’d smell of weed and alcohol, and she didn’t need the quiet judgment.

Her heart’s beating fast, and she knows it’s not just from the running. Being this close to someone feels different. Feels new. Feels dangerous in a way she doesn’t want to name.

They hear the voices start to fade… They’re in the clear.

“Thanks.”

Lottie exhales, her breath warm against Nat’s skin. For a moment, neither of them moves.

“Anytime,” she says, quoting Lottie back to herself, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

“If we cut through the academic buildings…” Nat repeats, replaying the plan in her head as she finally lets go of Lottie’s wrist, hoping that putting some space between them would ease whatever that moment was.

They reach one of the academic buildings and slip inside.

The long, dark hallways stretch ahead of them, eerily empty, bathed only in soft moonlight filtering through the tall windows. Shadows stretch across the floor, making everything feel larger, quieter, almost unreal. The quiet sound of their sneakers echoes against the tile as they move cautiously forward.

“Sure is quiet,” Lottie murmurs, voice hushed.

“Well, technically, we’re not allowed in here after hours,” Nat replies nonchalantly.

Lottie slows her pace. “Wait… we’re breaking and entering?” Her face lights up with mock shock, her expression somewhere between amused and genuinely scandalised.

Nat smirks. “Don’t look so surprised. This is the second time you’re doing it tonight.”

Suddenly, they hear another set of footsteps that are heavier and fast approaching.

A flashlight sweeps down the hall, its beam slicing through the darkness. Thinking on their feet, they duck into an open doorway, slipping into a lab room just in time. The light lingers outside for a moment, then creeps closer.

A creak.

A pause.

Then a blinding light pointed directly at both of them.

"Run!"

They bolt as they weave through the rows of desks and out the other door. The sound of footsteps behind them is drowned out by their own pounding hearts.

They rush through the winding hallways, weaving between doorways and empty classrooms until they finally spot the exit, bursting through it into the cool night air.

Panting, they sprint across the nearly empty parking lot, adrenaline still coursing through their veins.

Behind them, a distinct, frustrated “Hey!” echoes from the security guard. He was annoyingly persistent.

They duck behind a parked car, still gripping each other’s hands, their bodies pressed close in the tight space.

The flashlight beam sweeps over the lot, just barely missing them.

Their hands are sweaty, their breaths coming fast and shallow.

Nat jerks her head to the side, silently telling Lottie to follow her lead.

Keeping low, they crawl their way toward the edge of the lot, moving slowly, carefully until they see their chance to make a run for it.

They run until they find the soccer field… running across the field still holding each other’s hands, their fingers intertwined tightly. The grass is wet, splashing up at them as they move, the cool droplets catching in the air. The world feels wide and endless around them, and for a moment, it’s just the sound of their breathing and the rhythm of their feet against the earth.

They had lost the security guard somewhere in the maze of parked cars, successfully slipping away.

Lottie’s face was lit up with exhilaration, a wide grin stretching across her lips, smiling like she hadn’t in a long time.

Both of them laughed breathlessly, hands on their knees, trying to steady themselves.

"You're crazy!" Lottie huffed between chuckles, shaking her head.

Nat just shrugged, still glowing with adrenaline.

As they started walking again, the world around them felt quieter, softer.

The empty walkway stretched ahead, leading them toward the campus exit where Lottie’s chariot awaited.

“Um… thanks for helping me get here,” Lottie says, her voice softer than before as they reach her van.

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

But she doesn’t leave right away. She just stares at Nat, like there’s something else she wants to say but can’t quite find the words.

Behind her, the impatience of her team is palpable, her manager shifting, someone clearing their throat.

Nat exhales, finally breaking the silence. “I should…”

“Oh, yeah. Right,” Lottie nods, awkwardly shoving her hands in her pockets. “Um… thanks again.”

She hesitates for half a second, then nods back before hopping inside the sprinter van. The door slides shut, and just like that, she’s gone.

“Fuck me,” she breaths out as the vehicle disappears down the street.

Nat needed a smoke or a drink or both.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

The next day, she woke up with a dull ache in her head, the remnants of a restless night.

Observing herself in the mirror, she noticed the small details she had been ignoring; her dark roots had started to grow out ever so slightly, a stark contrast to the perfectly dyed strands that framed her face. She touched her hair, fingers lingering on the edges.

Had she looked like this when Lottie was here…?

She shakes off the thought because who cares what Lottie Matthews thinks? Then she put on a worn-out band tee and whatever else she could find before grabbing her bag and heading outside. She was going to be late for her dreaded philosophy class, and there was no avoiding that.

But as she leaves her dorm building, a sound makes her pause.

A familiar voice, or rather, a whisper coming from an alleyway.

“Hey, psst.”

She turns to see Lottie in her “civilian outfit”—this time a pair of grey sweatpants and yet another oversized grey hoodie. Nat couldn’t help but smirk.

Her attempt at looking inconspicuous needed some serious work. It seemed like her idea of blending in was just… wearing grey. Did she even own anything else? It was ridiculous.

“Very subtle,” Nat teased.

Lottie huffed. “Please just come over here.”

She obliged, going over to her as casually as she could. Nat raised a brow, arms crossed. “Sneak out just to see me?” she joked.

But then she caught the look on Lottie’s face, hesitant, almost guilty.

Oh.

“…Did you actually?” Nat asked, suddenly unsure.

Lottie cleared her throat, shifting on her feet. “I need to repay you.”

“That’s not necessary…”

“Please? The guilt is eating me alive.”

Nat opens her mouth to protest, but her little doe eyes win out.

“Fine, follow me.”

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

They end up going to one of Nat’s favourite places on campus, the old soccer field, tucked away behind the gym. Normally, the new one always had people walking by or players practising, the sound of whistles and shouting filling the air.

But here, at the old field, it was quieter, secluded. Nat found herself here more often than not. On bad days when everything felt too heavy, when the world pressed in on her chest and made it hard to breathe.

And even worse nights when the memories wouldn’t stop replaying, when the ghosts of the past felt too real, and the drugs didn’t seem to numb the pain anymore.

They make their way to the equipment shed, Nat pulling out a slightly worn soccer ball, tossing it to Lottie. She starts doing keepy-ups with ease, and the blonde watches her, amusement flickering across her face. There’s something almost mesmerising about the way Lottie moves. So effortless, just like she was when she was on stage. Nat lingers on her look of concentration, the way her brows knit together ever so slightly, the way her lips press into a determined line. But the second Nat’s curious eye is caught, she quickly stops letting the ball fall to her feet.

"I used to play soccer when I was younger," Lottie muses, rolling the ball under her foot.

"I know."

Lottie raises a brow. "Do you now? You stalking me?" she teases, leaning lazily against the goalpost.

Nat scoffs, grinning as she kicks the ball toward her. "Ha ha. You wish."

"What position do you play?" the brunette asks, genuinely curious as she watches Lottie bounce the ball between her feet.

"I'm a midfielder," Nat replies with a casual smile, rolling the ball forward before tapping it lightly back to herself.

"I was a defender," Lottie adds, her tone holding a slight edge of pride. "A good one, too. Could stop anyone in their tracks."

Nat raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Yeah? Prove it."

And Lottie, never being one to back down from a challenge, says, “You’re on.”

Lottie does a good job of blocking her. She never thought she’d be playing soccer with Lottie Matthews, let alone being tackled by her. Nat supposed that the whole soccer thing hadn’t been a lie planted by her PR team to make her more relatable.

She was a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure, and Nat finds herself thinking it’s a shame she’s a pop star.

She was quick, her reflexes sharp. But Nat was quicker.

With one final kick, the ball soars in the air and… flies straight into Lottie’s face.

Nat watches in horror as the little grey blob crumples to the floor.

“Oh shit, you okay?!” Nat shouts as she runs up to her. She sees movement–a good sign, but as she steps closer, she also sees blood–not so good a sign. Lottie’s lip has a cut, a thin trickle of red standing out against her skin.

“Shit, shit, shit–sorry,” Nat mumbles, already cupping Lottie’s face in her hands, tilting her chin to get a better look.

She continues to fuss over her, brushing a thumb near the cut without thinking. Of course, she had to go and beam her in the face with a soccer ball. Just her luck. Lottie, however, doesn’t seem nearly as concerned. She just sits there, staring up at Nat with that same small, amused smile.

“Damn it, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to–”

But Lottie just smiles up at her, cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“I’m alright,” she says, almost pleased. “I can take a soccer ball to the face.”

They’re close, like really close. Nat can feel Lottie’s breath against her skin, see the faint amusement in her eyes despite the cut on her lip.

She swallows. “You sure can.”

The moment is interrupted by a distant shout, breaking whatever strange tension had settled between them. Nat quickly stands, offering Lottie her hand. Without hesitation, Lottie takes it.

“Get in goals, I need to hit you too.”

And Nat lets out a laugh that has Lottie's heart soaring.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

They walk back together, using sidewalks and back entrances to make their way back to her dorm, keeping a low profile. By now, it’s mid-afternoon, and the sun has come out midway through their match, casting a warm glow over everything.

Nat lights a cigarette, the tip flaring orange as she takes a slow drag, then places it between her lips before silently offering it to Lottie.

Lottie shakes her head. “Can’t smoke. My voice…”

Nat exhales a slow stream of smoke. “There’s a lot I can’t do,” Lottie adds after a beat. “I have a strict diet I have to follow.”

Nat raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Lottie sighs, almost wistfully. “I’m on this bullshit liquid diet now. Can’t remember the last time I had like… a burger or a hot dog.”

“That’s tragic.”

But then, an idea sparks. She glances at her watch. Maybe…

“If we hurry, we might be able to catch it.”

Lottie blinks. “Catch what?”

Nat smirks. “Come on.”

Before Lottie can question her further, Nat grabs her wrist and takes off, dashing toward the street corner.

“Hold up!” Lottie laughs, barely keeping up.

They skid to a stop in front of a hot dog stand, the warm, greasy smell hitting them instantly. And if by some miracle, there was no line, she walked right up, ordered them the best dogs money can buy and presented them to Lottie.

Lottie looks at the hot dog in her hands like it’s some kind of forbidden treasure. “Enjoy,” Nat says, grinning.

“Thanks, how much were they?”

Lottie reaches into her pocket for her wallet, but as she pulls it out, a small bottle of pills tumbles from her jacket and clatters onto the pavement.

Nat bends down, picking it up before Lottie can. She turns it over in her hand, reading the label.

“What are…?”

Lottie exhales, shoving her wallet back into her pocket. “It's nothing, I…”

She takes a breath to steady herself before looking at Nat, hoping it wouldn't change anything.

“Antipsychotics. I’ve been on them since I was a kid.”

Her tone is casual, but there’s something in her expression, something guarded.

Nat hands the bottle back, meeting her gaze. “Not exactly the kind of thing you’d want in the tabloids…”

Lottie gives a dry chuckle, pocketing the pills. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

“Again. I am my image, without it…it doesn't matter what music I make.”

“Does it get exhausting?”

“Yes, but these past few days have been a welcome break. I have you to thank for that,” Lottie says, her voice soft, a hint of gratitude in her tone.

Nat hands her the hot dog, letting her fingers brush against Lottie’s for a moment before pulling away.

"How do you deal with it, with the pressure?" Nat asks, taking a bite of the hot dog, her eyes flicking to Nat’s as she chews.

"The pills help," Lottie replies, her voice steady, though there's a certain heaviness that lingers in her words.

"How does it feel when you’re not on them?"

"Honestly? It’s like my mind is screaming at me," Lottie says, her tone flat, almost emotionless. "Like there’s something bad just waiting around the corner, and I can feel it. I barely even know how to describe it, it’s like some... presence."

Her face softens, and she looks away for a moment, eyes downcast. "You don’t want to hear about this," she says sheepishly, subconsciously shrinking in on herself.

"I’m… I want to listen," Nat says gently, her voice sincere, making Lottie pause, just for a moment.

“It's like there's something bad around the corner, something I can't stop. Do you ever feel like that?”

“Yeah, but it's normally because of something of my own doing.”

She could tell that being this vulnerable was new, and it must be especially difficult when you're famous.

“But we all do what we need to. We're just trying to get by, so no judgment here.”

“Yeah?” Lottie says, her voice coming out no louder than a whisper.

“Yeah. Plus, I'm the last person to judge anyone. I'm a human dumpster fire on wheels.”

Lottie shakes her head profusely at her self-deprecation.

“Dumpster fires don't buy people hot dogs,” she starts, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to say. “They also don't pelt me with soccer balls—”

Nat interrupts her with a playful shove, making Lottie laugh, and it makes her feel like everything is going to be just fine.

“Seriously, though, I think you're really cool, Nat.”

Lottie looks away, taking a bite of her hot dog, and Nat is glad she won't see the blush that was blossoming on her face. Little did she know, Lottie was blushing too.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

The next night, Nat finds it hard to sleep. Not just because she was trying to sleep at 9 pm, which was impossibly early, but because she hadn't seen Lottie.

She hated to admit it, but she missed her. Missed her smile, her laugh, her grey ensembles, and it had only been a day without her.

She takes a shower to get her mind off it and hopes it makes her tired enough to pass out as soon as she hits her sheets.

10 minutes later, she leaves her bathroom with a cloud of steam following her, and as if on cue, she hears a rattling outside her window.

Her window is pulled down further, and a very stealthy figure drops into her room, just narrowly missing her desk.

Lottie turns around and is met with the sight of Nat…in nothing but her underwear.

“Boundaries, Lot! Boundaries!” Nat yells before lowering her voice, wary of who might be able to hear, “You can’t just sneak into my bedroom like you’re Spider-Man.”

Lottie’s face had turned a shade of red that they both didn’t know was possible, but she hid her face as best as she could in her–you guessed it–grey hoodie sleeves.

She sifts through a pile of clothes, picks up a faded tank top and baggy shorts and puts them on to save them both embarrassment.

“I'm so sorry, I just…”

Lottie didn't finish her sentence; she didn't really have a response, plus seeing Nat in her underwear had left her a little speechless.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…”, Lottie starts as she tries to find her words, “I still haven't repaid you.”

Nat didn't think she needed to be repaid, but she wasn't complaining. She had wanted to see her again, so this was perfect.

“I was thinking I could show you my favourite places in the city.”

Silence fills the room as Nat fails to answer in an appropriate amount of time.

“If you want to, of course…” Lottie murmurs, looking down.

Nat notices her expression and answers immediately, her voice softer than usual. “I’d like that. Yeah, sounds… cool.”

Lottie lifts her head, a small, relieved smile tugging at her lips. “Cool. So… window?”

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

“This is the best sushi spot in the city, I swear.”

Lottie has dragged her across town and straight into a tiny, neon-lit restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a tattoo parlour.

“‘Miso Hungry’? Sounds gimmicky.” Nat chuckles, eyeing the sign skeptically. “If their sushi is as bad as their puns, I’m out.”

Lottie just grins, already pulling her inside. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

They enter, and the woman at the front desk leads them to a private room, its walls adorned with soft lighting and traditional Japanese decor. It was clear that she came there often.

“What can we get for the two of you?” a server asks, her smile warm and inviting as she stands by the table, waiting for their order.

Lottie looks at Nat in anticipation, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll follow your lead,” Nat says with a small shrug, clearly trusting Lottie’s judgment. She didn't know a lot about sushi, but she trusted Lottie enough not to let her get food poisoning.

“We’ll have the ‘Oh My Gohan!’ munchbox and the ‘Shrimply the Best’ sushi platter.”

Nat grabs the menu after the waiter leaves, her brow furrowed in mild amusement at the absurdity of it all. She looks at the menu and sees it littered with sushi puns, her favourites being ‘Crab You By The Roll’ and ‘Unagi Me Crazy’.

The food arrives, and it looks absolutely delicious. Nat didn’t realise how hungry she was until there was a sudden growl in her stomach, making her cheeks flush.

Nat tries to dig in but ends up fumbling with her chopsticks for a little too long, her frustration growing as she tries to get a grip on the delicate pieces of sushi. She almost gives up hope when a shrimp tempura roll comes into view, with Lottie holding it out to her.

She didn't expect her to–?

“C’mon, otherwise you won't eat anything.”

Lottie's logic was flawed. She could have gotten a fork or committed a cardinal sin and eaten it with her hands, but Lottie clearly wanted to feed her.

Who was she not to indulge her?

So she leans forward and eats the roll and chews slowly. There's an explosion of flavour in her mouth, and she questions how she had been without it all these years. Was this what she had been missing out on?

“So?”

��It’s fucking delicious.”

“Told you,” Lottie replies with a smile, happy that her choice had won Nat over. The satisfaction in her voice is clear as she takes a bite herself, savouring the flavour. “I knew you'd like it.”

After that, they get into a sort of rhythm, Lottie feeding both of them with her superior chopstick skills.

They leave the sushi spot, feeling full and content, the city lights flickering around them. They decide to take the subway, walking there with their hands intertwined. The walk is peaceful, as peaceful as it can be when you’re tasked with hiding a popstar from potential paparazzi, but Nat liked listening to her talk. It was soothing, she always had something to say, and Nat was always ready to hear it.

They reach the subway, the platform mostly empty except for a few late-night stragglers. The train’s distant rumble grows louder as they stand close, her voice dropping to a soft murmur as she finishes a thought.

“The next one won’t be here for another 20 minutes,” Lottie mutters, glancing at the schedule board.

As they wait, they wander through the nearly empty train station, and Lottie’s eyes catch sight of an old piano sitting off to the side. Without thinking, she walks over to it, her fingers lightly brushing the keys.

Noticing how the brunette looks at the piano, Nat asks, “Can you play?”

Lottie hesitates for a moment, then smiles. “I can play a little. Piano, guitar and violin.”

“Shit, musical prodigy too? What aren't you good at?”

Nat was constantly being surprised by Lottie. How did someone so effortlessly cool have so much talent in so many areas? It was almost unfair.

“Shut up,” Lottie utters, embarrassed at her being cooed over.

“Want me to play something?” she asked, a teasing smile tugging at her lips, ready to show off just a little bit more.

“Yeah, let's hear it.”

As she plays the piano and sings, the sound fills the empty space around them, soft yet powerful. It’s different from the music she releases, more raw, more vulnerable, more Lottie. Her voice is unpolished in a way that feels real.

“Why don’t I ever hear you play stuff like that?”

“I thought you didn’t listen to my stuff.”

Nat rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean, bitch,” she says nudging Lottie.

They laugh together, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the station.

“It’s all about what people want to see. I am whoever they want me to be. My fans, my record label, my mom, it’s...it’s just how it is.”

Lottie sighs, her fingers still lightly grazing the piano keys as she looks at Nat with a half-smile.

“You should come to one of my concerts. I’m leaving town soon, so…” Lottie trails off, her gaze softening.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Nat replies, her voice sincere, a genuine excitement in her eyes.

“Even though you don’t listen to my stuff?”

Nat chuckles at the callback before looking back at her.

“Even though I don’t listen to your stuff.”

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

They get to Lottie’s lobby, the quiet hum of the building giving a sense of calm. The doorman looks up and smiles, “Miss Matthews.”

Lottie replies with a genuine smile, “Evening, James. Quiet night?” She watches as he leans on the desk, talking with a warm laugh, the kind that makes the marble lobby feel less cold, more like home.

“Luckily, no fans were swarming the building like last time.” His eyes land on the blonde next to her, and Lottie takes notice.

“Oh, this is Nat,” Lottie says, gesturing toward her with a playful smile. The doorman gives a small nod, eyes crinkling kindly, “Ah, so you’re the one she’s been talking about.”

He quickly shut up with a sharp look from Lottie. Nat feels the corners of her mouth twitch, fighting back a smile as the doorman raises his hands in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath.

James nods at her with a smile of his own. “Pleasure to meet you, Fair warning, don’t let her feed you her peanut butter cookies,” he warns with a grin, “They’re... interesting.”

Lottie chuckles, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “How rude,” she replies playfully, pulling Nat toward the elevator.

As the doors close, Lottie presses the button for the penthouse floor. The elevator starts its ascent, and Nat is in awe. It’s like a whole different world. It’s sleek, polished, and impossibly luxurious. She never thought she’d see a place like this, let alone step foot in it.

“You and your doorman seem close,” Nat observes, trying to hide her surprise.

Lottie shrugs slightly, her gaze softening for a moment. “ I don’t exactly have a lot of friends…” she admits, her tone shifting just enough to reveal a vulnerability Nat hadn’t expected.

"He’s always been nice. Let me complain to him about everything. But now…I have you," Lottie says, her voice softer now, almost as if she's letting her guard down a little.

Nat glances at her, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh yeah?" she replies, raising an eyebrow, trying to match Lottie’s teasing tone but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

Lottie just shrugs, giving Nat a quick glance, her smile playful but tinged with something a little more sincere. "Yeah," she says, her voice quieter now.

“I don’t even have your number.”

Lottie pauses because how could that possibly be true? In the time that they’d been spending together, she must’ve asked. “You don’t?”

“No, you prefer to stalk me.”

“I’m not stalking you,” she laughs. She holds out her hand expectedly, and Nat gives her her phone. The singer makes quick work of typing in her number, her fingers pressing the buttons with impressive speed.

She calls herself from her phone, “There we go, now we have each other's numbers. So don't be afraid to call or text or whatever.”

They race into Lottie’s room, and it’s not quite what Nat expected. It’s bigger than four of her dorm rooms combined, but that’s not what catches her off guard. The walls are a cool shade of blue, soft and calming, and a keyboard sits in the corner, half-covered by a hoodie and a tangle of headphone cords, a small cabinet mounted on the wall with a few trophies she assumed were for soccer. Papers are scattered over her desk, lyrics scrawled in messy loops and half-finished thoughts, some crossed out, some circled in bright ink.

And Nat’s favourite, a big stuffed teddy bear slouched against the pillows on Lottie’s bed, worn at the edges but clearly well-loved.

Lottie flops onto the bed next to it, grinning up at her. “Told you I was cool,” she jokes, patting the bear’s fuzzy head.

“Extremely.”

She turns and sees her giant walk-in closet, a popstar essential. They enter, exploring the maze of fabric and glittering outfits, each hanger holding some new piece of Lottie’s world.

Nat takes out a cow onesie.

“What is this?” she asks, holding it up with a teasing grin.

“No, no, no—not that…” Lottie lunges to grab it back but falls just short, laughing as Nat holds it out of reach.

“I think you’d look cute in it,” Nat says, playing with the little fluffy ears on the hood.

“Nat…”

“Yes, Lot?”

“You’re so annoying,” Lottie mutters, but the smile on her face gives her away.

“Tell me something I don't know.”

She passes the onesie back to Lottie and continues going through and sees something that sticks out to her.

“Is this a Nirvana tee I spy?”

“Maybe?”

“And after you were so judgmental about me liking them.”

“I was? When?”

“When we first met? You asked if I liked Nirvana, I said yes, and you said that it ‘makes sense’.”

Nat doesn't stop to think how embarrassing it is that she remembers it so clearly.

She realises that Lottie may not remember that something like that was so insignificant to her, but her next words dissuaded that fear.

“I just meant... your vibe, you had that kind of look. It was my subtle way of saying you looked cool,” Lottie says, her voice softer now, a little more careful.

“Oh.”

There’s a beat of silence, the air thick with all the unsaid things sitting between them.

“You thought I was judging you?” Lottie asks, turning slightly, searching Nat’s face.

“I don’t know what I thought,” Nat answers honestly, her voice quiet. “I just remember it stuck.”

Lottie’s expression softens even more, the playful edge gone. “I wasn’t judging you. I think I just wanted to find a reason to keep talking to you. I figured it’d start a conversation, but safe to say it backfired.”

“Maybe a little, but I appreciate you trying.”

Nat lingers, putting her hand on her shoulder, the moment hanging quietly between them as they just look at each other. Lottie looks back at the clothes, her fingers brushing absently over a jacket sleeve, hoping her face wasn’t being too transparent, that the flush in her cheeks wasn’t so obvious.

“I have an idea,” she says, turning back to her, her voice steadier now, like she’d finally wrangled her emotions back into place.

“I’ll give you a Lottie makeover, and you give me a Nat makeover.”

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

The room was a mess of clothes now, their aesthetics completely switched. Nat had been popstar-ified in Lottie’s clothes and she couldn’t lie she liked it. Mostly because she like being in her clothes and liked how she smelt in a completely platonic, not creepy way.

Now it was Lottie’s turn, settling down in front of Nat, cross-legged on the floor, her makeup wiped clean and her hair pulled back, waiting with a curious smile.

“Alright,” Nat said, cracking her knuckles like a challenge, “my turn to make you look like you belong in a grunge rock band.”

“Do your worst.”

She grins, leaning back slightly as Nat begins to do her makeup, the routine calm but intimate. Nat carefully starts with her eyeliner, her fingers steady as she traces the line along Lottie’s eyelids.

Her pretty eyes flick up for a second, meeting Nat’s, and the room suddenly feels smaller.

There’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of Lottie’s mouth, but she stays still, letting Nat finish the careful stroke.

“Careful,” Lottie murmurs, voice low and teasing. “One wrong move and I’ll end up looking like a raccoon.”

“You’d make a cute raccoon.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I said cute, didn’t I?”

They shared a look, the silence between them somehow feeling more intimate than before. Lottie felt the urge to speak, to break the tension, but instead, she found herself watching Nat’s face, studying her expressions. Maybe if she could read her, she wouldn’t have to focus on her own dilemma.

She almost wanted to reach out, to smooth away whatever it was that was making Nat's brow twitch or her lips tighten, but something held her back. The question lingered in her mind, unspoken for a moment.

“Any stress on your mind?” Lottie presses.

“A little here and there.”

“What do you do to relieve it?”

Nat exhales, looking away for a second, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her cup. "I guess I… self-medicate. Let’s say that."

Lottie’s gaze softens, a hint of concern crossing her face. She doesn’t press for more, but the silence between them grows heavier, a shared understanding of things left unsaid.

Nat continues, almost to herself, “My relationship with my dad wasn’t…” Her voice trails off, and she takes a slow breath, as if the words are hard to say out loud. Lottie watches her, unsure of whether to push further or to let Nat finish in her own time.

“I’m still dealing with it.”

She applies her lipstick carefully to her lips, the colour bold yet soft, a perfect contrast to the boldness of the night.

“I’m all done, wanna see?”

They turn to the full-length mirror, looking at themselves, side by side, the reflection of the two of them somehow making the room feel warmer. Nat leans down, her chin resting on Lottie’s shoulder, her breath warm against her skin. “Not bad,” she mutters with a quiet smile.

The singer’s mouth feels suddenly dry as she shifts, her voice lower than usual. “Do you… want to stay over tonight?”

Nat nods, too tired to say anything, her mind already settling into the quiet comfort of the moment.

After washing the makeup off their faces, they lay next to each other in the dim light of the room. Nat had borrowed a pair of Lottie’s pyjamas, the soft fabric feeling comfortable but unfamiliar. Lottie liked seeing her in her clothes, like a small piece of herself wrapped around Nat, and Nat liked how they smelled like her… like she was all around her, even when they were apart.

“You can move closer, this is your bed,” Nat remarks softly, her voice laced with a quiet warmth. She didn’t want to be responsible for Lottie rolling off her bed in the middle of the night, and breaking her face or something.

Lottie hesitates for a moment, then shifts, curling up beside Nat, their bodies a little closer than before.

Their knees bump against each other.

Nat decides to bite the bullet and pulls her into her arms despite being scared that Lottie might pull away, cuss her out and kick her out of her apartment, but none of that happens. Instead, Lottie relaxes under her touch, her left arm wrapping around Nat's waist as she rests her head on her chest.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

They wake up to the soft chorus of birdsong outside, the faint sounds of early morning traffic drifting in through Lottie’s open window. The air is cool, the sunlight gentle as it spills across the bed. Their limbs are tangled together, Nat’s body draped half over Lottie’s, her face buried in the crook of her neck. Lottie’s fingers are still threaded through Nat’s blonde hair, like even in sleep, she didn’t want to let go.

“Good morning,” Lottie murmurs, stretching as best she can with Nat still draped over her. The blonde takes in the sight beside her, hair tousled and still perfectly wavy, looking like something out of a fairy tale.

“Mornin’,” Nat yawns, voice still thick with sleep as she slowly rolls off of her. Lottie watches her, eyes soft, quietly marvelling at how cute she is in the morning and wondering if she always looked this effortlessly adorable when she woke up.

They move around the room slowly, navigating the morning shuffle togther, waiting for the shower, sharing a pot of coffee, playful nudges. Nat would just barely make it to her third lecture of the day, and Lottie would probably make it to her dance rehearsal… maybe a little late, but worth it.

“Oh, um,” Lottie says, pausing in the middle of buttoning her shirt, “I have a concert tonight, if you want to come. You can bring friends too.”

She smiles shyly, grabbing the tickets off her dresser and handing them to her, her fingers brushing against Nat’s just a little too long. “Please come.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Nat replies, without a moment of hesitation.

Lottie’s whole demeanour changes, her eyes light up, posture lifts like someone just told her she could fly. It’s unmistakable. Nat doesn’t miss it, and something about that reaction makes her chest ache in the best way.

“I assume I have to take a back way out?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you.”

Now she’s the one sneaking out, but she’s glad she didn’t have to scale up or down Lottie’s apartment. They go down the back entrance’s stairs and reach the bottom. Nat opens the door, stepping outside.

“Wait,” Lottie says, stopping her by gently holding onto her sleeve. “I had a great time.”

“So did I.”

“I just…”

Lottie falters, her words failing her now that she’s face to face with her. She knows what she wants to say, needs to say, but her heart is pounding too loudly for the words to come out smoothly.

“I…”

“Yes?” Nat asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Lottie’s eyes flicker to her lips, and then, throwing all caution to the wind, she leans in and pulls her close, their lips colliding in a kiss. It’s tentative and a little shaky at first, but quickly deepens as they melt into it. It feels natural, effortless, like they’ve done this a million times. It’s like breathing.

Nat reaches out instinctively, her fingers tangling in Lottie’s wavy brown hair as she pulls her in closer, anchoring them in the moment neither of them wants to end.

They only pull back to breathe, but they wish they didn’t have to. Feeling that good was worth the lack of oxygen burning in their lungs.

“I’ll see you at the concert?”

“Yeah,” Nat replies, her mind still mush after their kiss.

“And after?” Lottie asks, needing her to say yes.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

They separate, Lottie going back inside with a giddy grin, but Nat stays standing there looking at the spot where she was. Like, she can’t believe what just happened. She brushes her lips with her fingers, remembering how it felt to have Lottie’s against hers. After that, Nat goes back to her dorm looking like the happiest girl on earth.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

At Lottie’s concert, the venue pulses with an electric energy—dim lights, low chatter, the thrum of speakers humming with potential.

Nat is near the front, shifting on her feet, waiting in anticipation. She knows she’s going to look like an angel up there, an angel that she’s kissed.

“And I thought you weren't a fan. You still haven't told us how you scored these,” Akilah says.

“I have my ways.”

“I don't care as long as I get to say her live again,” Mari chimes in.

The show begins, and her singing fills the air with a softness that feels almost enchanting. Nat enjoys the whole show, even more now that she knows Lottie better, the way her voice seemed to weave with the melody, her presence commanding without even trying. There was something captivating about the way Lottie owned the room, completely at ease as she performed.

Her last song begins, and the crowd goes wild. It’s one of her most popular ones, the one everyone’s been waiting for. The energy shifts in the room, and the room is under her control yet again.

Midway through one of her lines, Lottie suddenly stopped singing, her movements halting as if caught in some unexpected moment. Her expression shifted, dazed, her eyes squinting at the lights above her as though they were too bright, too overwhelming.

For a moment, she stood there, frozen. Something wasn’t right.

Then suddenly, she's falling back...

Her backup dancers catch her just before she hits the ground, saving her from the fall but not the stunned silence that hangs in the air.

The atmosphere soon erupts into a wave of murmurs, screams, and gasps, everyone worried for Lottie’s safety.

Nat watches as she’s carried off stage, her figure disappearing into the shadows. She just feels numb, like everything around her has slowed down, like she’s trapped in a moment she can’t escape.

She wants to go to her, to check if she’s okay, but it’s like she can’t move… can’t breathe. The weight of the moment pins her in place, her body frozen in a storm of thoughts and uncertainty.

She barely speaks a word to anyone for the rest of the night. She was silent when she got back on campus, silent when she got back to her dorm and silent as she got into bed.

She couldn’t even bring herself to sleep, her mind racing with thoughts she can't quiet. The adrenaline from the performance lingers, but it doesn’t bring the peace she desperately craves.

Drinking, trying to numb the constant buzz of anxiety, she lies there, staring at the ceiling, each passing minute feeling heavier than the last. But nothing would bring her peace, not until she knew Lottie was going to be okay.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

In the morning, Nat gets a call from her phone, an unknown number flashing on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Natalie Scatorccio?" the voice on the other end asks, polite but urgent.

"This is Lottie’s assistant. She wants to see you."

In an instant, Nat is up, panic gripping her chest. She grabs her jacket, rushing to get dressed, every movement frantic as she tries to make sense of the call. Running out of her dorm like a bat out of hell, she hardly stops to think as her feet carry her toward the hospital.

She arrives at the hospital, her heart pounding. As she walks through the white halls, each one stretching before her, everything feels sterile and far too quiet. Her breathing comes in shallow bursts, scared of what she might find. But at least Lottie was awake, there was that small comfort.

Opening the door, she sees Lottie, her hair cascading over her shoulder, looking fragile but still so beautiful.

"Hey." Lottie greets her, her voice soft and worn.

She looks weak and exhausted, her skin pale, her eyes dark from lack of sleep. How did Nat not notice earlier? The guilt gnaws at her, a heavy weight in her chest. Lottie had been overworking herself, pushing her limits, and Nat didn’t even realise.

"Hey. Don’t do that." Lottie interrupts her thoughts, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nat looks up at her in shock, her heart aching as she meets Lottie’s gaze.

"You’re too easy to read, Natalie. Don’t beat yourself up over this."

"I should have noticed how tired you were," Nat says, her voice barely a murmur, the guilt almost suffocating her.

Lottie reaches out, taking her hand gently, as if she would break if she held it any tighter. "I’m okay, really."

She wants to reach out and hug her, but the moment feels too fragile, too unsure. The sound of the door opening and closing behind her snaps them both out of their daze. Lottie lets go of her hand as her mother enters the room.

“Mom–”

“Good, you’re awake. There's a radio show you need to start prepping for, you have rehearsals in the morning for your New York show–”

Nat couldn't believe what she was hearing, her heart sinking at the thought of the pressure mounting on Lottie.

“Are you kidding?” Nat blurts out, her voice thick with disbelief. “There’s no way she can perform tomorrow night.”

“Who even are you? And it's in her schedule,” Lottie's mother says matter-of-factly.

“I’m her friend,” Nat replies firmly, “And who gives a fuck about a schedule? Your daughter is in a hospital bed–”

“Nat–”

“And you sat there talking about a schedule?”

“It’s not just about Charlotte,” she spits as if it’s obvious, “People’s jobs depend on her, everything depends on her getting out there and putting on a show, which she will do because it’s her job. It’s what she signed up for, it’s what we all signed up for.”

Nat opens her mouth, ready to unleash hell on her pompous, unforgiving ass when she hears a voice from behind her.

“It’s okay. I’ll perform, I just need to take it easy today, and I’ll be back on my feet for rehearsals tomorrow morning.”

“That’s my girl,” she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. It's the closest Lottie will get to a compliment or a gesture of affection from her mother.

Lottie’s mom gets a call and leaves the room, but not before looking at Nat with distaste.

There's a heavy pause in the room before Lottie finally exhales and questions why she let her mother do that to her. She takes a deep breath.

Looking at Lottie’s exhausted form, Nat feels a deep pang of sympathy. She had told her about the pressures she would face; it was just surreal to see it happen in real time. She was mad for her and sad that Lottie had to carry such a heavy burden alone.

"I’m sorry your mother treats you like that," Nat says softly, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

“Since I was a kid…” Lottie replies, her voice distant, the hurt so clear in her eyes even as she tries to mask it.

“It’s just been easier to be…” Lottie starts, hesitating, finding it hard to speak.

Nat finishes her thought, her voice gentle, “To be what they want.”

Lottie nods, her eyes falling to her lap as she gathers her thoughts. "Yeah. To be what they want."

"You’re getting it now. It’s like rule one of being a popstar." Lottie adds with a quiet laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but the sadness beneath the words is still there.

Nat pauses, her heart aching as she watches Lottie. "I want to be someone that you can be yourself around."

Lottie looks up at her, their gazes locking, and for a moment, it feels like the world slows down. "I don’t want you to be anyone but Lottie Matthews," Nat says softly, the truth of her words clear.

Without saying another word, Lottie leans in, closing the gap between them, and they kiss. It’s tender, soft, and full of everything they haven’t said yet.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

She wanted to go see her the next morning, but something stopped her. A heaviness in her chest, like a presence lingering just out of sight, exactly the kind of thing Lottie told her about. Like something bad was waiting around the corner.

The whispers started before she even stepped onto campus. The way people looked at her, half curious, half judgmental, set her on edge.

“What the hell is your problem?” Nat mutters under her breath, casting a sharp glare at the people blatantly staring at her.

“Is this you, Nat?” a girl from her Econ class asks, holding out a cheap, glossy tabloid.

Nat snatches it from her, dread already forming in her gut. It's a picture—grainy but clear enough—of her and Lottie kissing outside her apartment. The headline reads something sensationalist and invasive. Her heart sinks to the floor.

She doesn’t say anything. Just storms off, her breath uneven as she disappears into the crowd.

There’s a tightness in her throat, a bitter sting in her eyes as she pushes past the swarm of students. The world feels too loud, too close. She doesn’t know where she’s going, just that she needs to get away.

She ends up back at her dorm, her head a whirlwind of emotion. Confusion, fear, anger. Her eyes drift toward the half-empty bottle of Jack in the corner, the familiar temptation creeping in, promising numbness. She takes one step toward it.

But before she can reach for it, there’s a knock on the door.

“It’s Tai and Van.”

She has half a mind to ignore them. Shut the world out like she used to. But something inside her knows, she can’t be alone right now. She shouldn’t bear this alone.

The door creaks open, and Van doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, Nat,” she breathes, immediately pulling her into a group hug.

They don’t speak at first.

They sit in silence, a heavy quiet blanketing the room. The only sounds are the muffled city beyond her window and the occasional comforting pat on her back. It’s wordless solidarity, the kind you don’t realise you need until it’s there.

“You?” Taissa asks finally breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

“And Lottie Matthews?” Van finishes.

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?” They say in unison. They’re tangled in each other like always, Taissa’s arms wrapped around Van’s waist as she rests her head on her shoulder.

“I know.”

“How did this even happen?”

“She snuck into my room.”

“But you live on the second floor.”

“Not helping,” and a nudge from her girlfriend, a playful but tired grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Have you talked to her since the photo came out?” Van asked quietly.

Nat shakes her head.

“I’ve been calling her like crazy, trying to see how she is, but she isn’t picking up.”

"I'm sure she'll come around,” the redhead offers, though her voice lacks conviction.

“I won’t lie. The media… it's been shit,” Tai says, rubbing her temple like the headlines had physically landed on her.

“Well, anything you need, you have us, and the rest of the Yellowjackets,” Van says, eyes locking with Nat’s.

“I know.” Nat nods, but she doubts it would help. She was used to dealing with things on her own, building walls no one ever really got past.

She glanced toward the window, the reflection of the headlines still burned into her memory.

“I just... I don't think she's okay. And I don’t think I am either.”

No one argued. The silence said enough.

She went into the common room later that afternoon, needing to move, to breathe. Being holed up in her dorm was making her stir crazy. Her thoughts wouldn’t shut up, looping endlessly like a broken record.

Her ears pricked up at the sound of Lottie's name from some gossip show on TV.

“Lottie Matthews and unnamed blonde, an item?

It seems our good girl of pop might play for the other team-”

Nat didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, the sudden silence cracking across the room like a whip.

There was a collective groan.

“Hey, we were watching that,” one girl complains.

“I mean, I always thought there was something with her,” another chimed in, undeterred. “She’s never had a boyfriend after all…”

“Yeah,” the first added, lowering her voice but not enough. “Makes you wonder what else she’s hiding.”

Nat didn’t even realise she was moving until she was standing behind them.

“Hey.” Her voice cut sharp and sudden.

Both girls jumped, looking up.

“You don’t know anything about her,” Nat said, the words low and tight. “So maybe shut the fuck up.”

She couldn’t listen to another minute of it. It was all bullshit, she was plastered in tabloid magazines as they questioned her sexuality and picked her apart like she wasn’t even human. Like she was just some puppet for them to toy with, something made for their amusement.

It made her sick.

And the fact that she couldn’t be with her, the fact that she couldn’t make sure that she was okay.

The days just kind of melt into one another, wake up thinking of her, and go to bed still thinking of her. She couldn’t focus on anything, least of all soccer.

“Ready for practice?” Jackie asks.

“I think I’m gonna sit this one out, guys.”

“But Regionals are coming up, we can’t—” Mari starts, and is silenced by the looks of others on the team.

“Sorry, Nat, I know you’re going through stuff,” she says, trying to be sensitive to her situation. Execution could have been better, but it’s the thought that counts.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

And just when Nat thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, they released a statement saying it wasn’t Lottie in the photo. That it was some lookalike and the picture had been doctored. A bold-faced denial. Like she never existed to Lottie at all.

Nat stared at the headline on the magazine she swiped, the words blurring with the heat of her tears. They weren’t just denying the kiss. They were denying her. Denying what they had. Like it was never real. Like she was nothing.

And as much as she wanted to scream, she also understood. This was Lottie’s life. Her career. Her carefully curated image, the pressure of being “America’s sweetheart.” Still, it didn’t make the betrayal sting any less. But what was she expecting? That someone like Lottie Matthews would risk everything for her?

Shortly after the statement went live on all the major networks and gossip outlets, Lottie appeared on a morning show, one of those talk shows that housewives ate up. Nat watched with her arms wrapped around herself in her bed, eyes fixed on the screen. Her stomach churned.

Lottie looked composed. Her posture was stiff, too perfect, but she smiled and spoke with that soft voice Nat adored. She was calm, collected. Professional.

It felt good, in a bitter way, to see her. To see that she was okay, not spiralling or hiding in some dark hole like she was. She was surviving this. Even if she wasn’t returning Nat’s calls. Even if she’d erased her.

She was okay.

Even if Nat wasn’t.

“Nice to see you, Lottie,” the host says with a bright, almost too-perky smile, her voice cheerful, a stark contrast to the tension hanging in the air.

“Always a pleasure to be here,” Lottie responds smoothly, her own smile just as bright, though it seems like it’s been rehearsed. The smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and that’s where Natalie notices the cracks, even if no one else does.

“So, I suppose we should dive right into it,” the host continues, leaning forward, ready to catch Lottie in whatever they can.

Lottie shifts in her seat, her hands twitching at her sides, trying not to fidget. “Let’s…” she agrees, her voice soft but steady. She adjusts herself again, her posture straight, too straight. The mask is on.

“The rumours aren’t true,” Lottie continues, her words rushing out now as she gets into the familiar groove. “I don’t— I don’t know where they even came from,” she stammers slightly, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, clearly uncomfortable. Her words falter, but she catches herself.

She takes a deep breath, and for a second, it’s like the usual practised pop star persona takes over completely. The image, the words, the look.

“I’m no stranger to rumours or speculation,” Lottie says, voice calm, almost rehearsed. “But I know who I am, and so do my fans. I want them to know I’m okay. I’m focused. I’m grateful. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter what false rumours people throw at me.”

Natalie watches, her heart sinking. The more Lottie speaks, the more it feels like she’s slipping away from her.

She spends the rest of the day drinking, the liquid burning down her throat as if she can drown the growing ache that refuses to leave. She doesn’t bother counting how many glasses she’s had or how many classes she’s missed. The world outside her dorm feels distant, like it’s happening to someone else. Her phone buzzes constantly, notifications popping up from friends checking in, messages from Tai and Van, but she ignores them all.

It’s early, two days after the interview, when her phone buzzes, ‘Lot’ lighting up in text, and she picks up the call immediately. She was hungover, groggy and in pain, but she couldn’t miss this. No matter how betrayed she felt, she still needed to hear her out.

“I need to talk to you. Can you meet me at my rehearsal spot?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, see you th–”

She hung up.

Nat arrives at the rehearsal spot, the thud of bass vibrating through the floor. Penelope ushers her backstage quickly, avoiding the curious glances of assistants and tech crew.

When she finally sees her, Lottie is in one of her stage outfits getting fitted. She looks beautiful; sophisticated in a way that made Nat suddenly feel like she still had dirt under her nails. She sends the people fitting her outfit away with a kind smile until they’re left alone in her dressing room.

“I’m so sorry, I—” Nat starts, the words tumbling out before she can catch them. It feels pathetic that those are the first words out of her mouth, but they’re all she has.

Lottie interrupts her, her eyes tired despite the glitter, her voice soft. “No, I am.”

“What do you mean?” Nat asks, taking a cautious step closer.

Thinking that this could work. I led you on, I kept showing up, I… I was the one who kissed you,” Lottie says almost shamefully. Even though she was all dressed up, she looked tired beneath all of it. She had lost her shine.

“This isn't all on you. I kissed you back,” Nat argues.

“Nat, no. You don’t get it.”

“Just give us a chance, I–”

“I can’t be the person you need, Nat!” Lottie snaps, “I don’t even…”

Lottie pauses as she wringing her hands, Nat can see her struggling to maintain control but there’s nothing she can do to help. She knows Lottie won’t let her.

“I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve been so lost in everything… my career, the expectations, all of it. I can’t… I can’t keep dragging you through that.”

“But that’s not what this is about.” Nat steps closer, her heart pounding in her chest. “I want you, not the perfect version of you, just you. Flaws, mess, everything. Don’t you get it?”

Lottie shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears that she doesn’t let fall. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The words burn like acid in Nat’s chest, and she feels like the air has been sucked out of the room.

“You should go,” Lottie says, not even looking at her anymore. “I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

With that, Nat walks away, and when she reaches the door, she doesn’t look back.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

The path Nat goes down the next few days is familiar in the worst way. It's reminiscent of high school, of being too young to be drinking so much and pushing boundaries just to feel something. There's no one to keep her from sliding headfirst into the pit she’s spent ages climbing out of because she wouldn't let them. She doesn't feel like she deserves it.

This was inevitable, she tells herself. It’s what people thought anyway. That she’d end up like this, a lonely, pathetic mess. A drunk.

She just didn’t think it would happen so fast.

One afternoon, after barely making it to a single class and spending the rest of the day curled up in a fog of stale alcohol and static thoughts, she hears it. An insistent banging on her door.

“Nat! We know you’re in there!” Taissa’s voice, sharp and commanding, cuts through the haze.

“We’re not leaving until you come out, or we go in,” Van adds, less patient.

Nat groans, pulls the hoodie farther over her head, but the banging continues. Eventually, she drags herself off the couch and stumbles to the door. She opens it, eyes half-lidded against the light.

Van and Tai stand there, arms crossed, unamused, giving the stink eye to her flatmates in the hallway who were giving it to them first.

“Finally,” Van says. “You gonna let us in, or should we just stage the intervention in the hallway?”

Nat sighs, steps aside wordlessly. They push past her like they’ve done this before. Because they have. Not with her, not exactly. But broken is broken, and Yellowjackets know how to recognise their own.

As the door closes behind them, Nat doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t need to.

She’s not okay. But they already know.

“How much have you been drinking?” Tai asks, scanning the mess of half-empty bottles on the floor.

“Enough,” Nat mutters, slumping back onto her bed. She reaches for the bottle again, but Van steps in, grabbing it from her hand before it can touch her lips.

“You can’t let this destroy you,” Van says firmly, her voice trembling just enough to show she still cares.

Nat scoffs, eyes glassy but defiant.

“Destroy me? Van, this is me. This is the part everyone’s been waiting for.”

She leans back, head hitting the wall behind her with a dull thud.

“How could I think that anyone would really… want me?”

There's a pause. A painful, heavy one.

Van leans closer to her, putting the bottle aside.

“Because we do,” she says quietly. “We’ll always want you.”

Tai sits on the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees, watching Nat like she’s afraid she’ll vanish if she blinks.

“You don’t get to write yourself off like this. Not while we’re still here.”

Nat swallows hard, throat tight, the shame creeping in under her skin like cold air through a cracked window.

She wants to believe them.

She really does.

“Still got a spot on the team for me?” Nat asks, her voice rough but a little steadier now, like she’s trying to joke and mean it all at once.

“Always,” Van says without missing a beat. They pull her in, arms wrapping around her like a lifeline. She cries, really cries, the way she’s been wanting to these last few days, and they don’t judge her for it.

Tai joins in a second later, their embrace clumsy but familiar.

“Plus,” Tai adds with a smirk against Nat’s shoulder, “we couldn’t have Allie fill in for you. She sucks.”

Nat lets out a laugh, wiping the tears from her face.

Allie really does suck.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

Lottie wakes up slowly, her body heavy beneath silk sheets that offer no real comfort. The room is dim, drawn curtains muting the sun, but not enough to erase the sharp edges of the morning.

It’s been at least two weeks since she last saw Nat. Two weeks since she pushed her away. Sent her off like some PR liability. She tries not to think of it like that, but it’s hard not to, when the truth tastes bitter every time it rises.

Her schedule’s been packed with photoshoots, interviews, and rehearsals. On paper, everything’s perfect. But most mornings, she wakes up feeling sick to her stomach. Nauseous before her feet even touch the ground. The world feels too loud, except when it’s silent, and that silence, that awful, buzzing silence, is her only escape. From the press. From her team. From the spotlight.

But even in the quiet, there’s no peace.

She feels like a ghost in her own life, drifting from one obligation to the next. Everyone wants a piece of her, but none of them see her. Not the way Nat did.

She can’t stop thinking about the look on Nat’s face when she told her to leave. How she literally flinched, like the words had hit her. She sees it every time she closes her eyes.

Lottie turns over in bed, pulling the blanket tighter, as if she can disappear under it. But Nat’s eyes follow her into sleep, into dreams.

She told herself it was for the best at the time, but she doesn’t believe that anymore.

She’d been everywhere the past two weeks. City after city, stage after stage, plastering on smiles, giving perfect performances. But now, just before another show in New Jersey, she felt it more than ever. The need to stop.

She wanted Nat. More than the spotlight, more than the carefully curated image, more than whatever version of control she thought she’d been holding onto.

She was scared, beyond scared. Scared of what people would say, what they’d assume, how they’d twist it all into something scandalous and marketable. But that fear didn’t outweigh the longing anymore.

The show was minutes away. The crowd was already chanting her name. But Lottie wasn’t thinking about the lights or the setlist. She was standing in her dressing room, alone, staring into the mirror.

The reflection staring back at her looked flawless, hair curled just right, makeup airbrushed to perfection, the outfit hugging all the right lines. But underneath it all, she still didn’t quite know who she was. What she wanted to be, what she was allowed to be.

But she did know this:

She wanted to figure it out.

And the first real choice of her own she wanted to make—the first one not for the cameras, not for the label, not for her family —was Nat.

Choosing Nat.

Not because it would be easy, but because it would make her happy for once.

She keeps staring at herself in the mirror, unmoving for a moment. Then leans in, grabs the eyeliner off the counter, and adds a little more. Smokier, messier. Less polished, more edge. Very Nat-chic.

Her mother steps in, clipboard in hand, business in her voice.

“Ready?”

Lottie doesn’t turn. Just one last swipe of liner, a breath in.

“Always,” she says, standing up. She grabs her guitar on the way to the door, the weight of it grounding her more than any applause ever has.

Her mother’s eyebrows rise immediately.

“What are you doing with that?”

“I’m performing something original tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence that speaks volumes.

“That’s not what we agreed on.”

Lottie pauses in the doorway, guitar in hand, the hallway lights spilling in from behind her like a spotlight already waiting.

She exhales, slow, steady, and says with quiet finality,

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Her mother steps forward, placing a perfectly manicured hand on Lottie’s shoulder, a gesture meant to soothe, to control. Lottie promptly shrugs it off instantly, catching what her mother was trying to do.

“You made me do it,” she snaps, voice cracking. “You made me push her away when she’s the only one who understands me. And I haven’t felt understood in such a long time!”

Her mother’s expression falters, but Lottie’s not done.

“Do you know what it feels like to be scared of yourself? To always feel like something terrible is coming? Like, there's this constant storm hanging over you? And then with her, it disappears. It’s like I can actually breathe for the first time in years.”

She takes a breath, trying to steady herself, but the words keep rushing out.

“For the longest time, I thought if I just did what you wanted, if I kept smiling, kept quiet, kept singing the songs they wrote for me, then everything would be okay. But it’s not. I’m not okay. I’m not happy.”

Lottie reaches out, takes her mother’s hands, hoping to appeal to her humanity. Looking her mother in the eyes, hoping she can see just how tired she was.

“Let me be happy.”

Her mother’s mouth opens, her grip tightens just a little, as if she holds on hard enough, she can still change her mind.

“Charlotte…” she begins, then pauses, as if trying to pinpoint where she went wrong, “Happiness is overrated. That girl will ruin you, ruin everything we’ve built. If the media finds out that you and she…”

“Love each other?” Lottie finishes for her, fierce now. “What? They’d gossip? Speculate? Turn it into headlines? Let them. I don’t care.”

Her mother's hands are shaking with frustration at this point, "But your career—!"

"Fuck my career."

Lottie watches the shock ripple across her mother’s face and turns away, walking out the door. She hears her mother yelling after her, but the words blur.

Lottie doesn’t look back.

She keeps walking to the stage, guitar in hand, ready to get Nat back.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

Encouragement from the team had been steady, even if the training wasn’t. Their coach didn’t take it easy on them, gruelling drills at dawn, endless running, precision passes until their legs ached. But no one complained. Not really. Regionals were on the horizon, and that made every sore muscle worth it.

Still, the game wasn’t going the way they’d hoped.

By halftime, the Yellowjackets were tied up, one more goal and they'd be heading to Nationals. The scoreboard glared at them like a dare. Spirits were low, breaths heavy, and for a moment, doubt crept in.

They jogged off the field and headed toward the locker room, silence hanging heavier than usual.

That’s when Jackie peeled off from the group and walked straight to Nat.

“You need to see something,” she said, tugging at Nat’s sleeve.

Nat furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Just…come on.” Jackie didn’t wait for permission, just pulled her down the hallway to the rec lounge where a small TV hung in the corner. She flipped the channel.

There, on screen, was Lottie.

Hair down. Acoustic guitar in hand.

Singing the song that Nat had heard her playing on the piano weeks ago.

“She’s singing it for you,” Jackie said quietly. “On live TV.”

Nat froze, heart skipping a beat. The lyrics were hers. Not in name, but in feeling. The whole room faded.

“She likes you,” Jackie added, giving her a small nudge. “It’s very clear to see. Now come on, let’s go kick some Ridgeview ass for the love of Lottie Matthews.”

Nat blinked, then cracked the smallest smile.

“The team needs their best midfielder,” Jackie finished, starting toward the locker room.

“Best?” Nat called after her, raising an eyebrow.

Jackie grinned over her shoulder.

“Don’t make me say it twice.”

Nat turned back to the TV one last time. Lottie looked straight into the camera as she hit the final chord.

Then Nat turned and ran to join the team.

The next half of the game, all Nat can think about is Lottie, her voice, that song, the way she looked straight into the camera like she was singing to no one else in the world. And suddenly, Nat wants it. Not just for the team, not just for Nationals, but for herself. For something bigger than the field.

She wanted to win.

And now, finally, she had that extra spark, that fire that made her feel unstoppable.

The Yellowjackets were relentless. There weren’t a lot of chances, but they hustled for every one. Sliding tackles, sharp passes, the sound of cleats digging into turf like they played like they had something to prove, which they did.

With just one minute left, the pressure was suffocating. But giving up? That wasn’t an option.

In a burst of movement, Tai breaks through. She sees an opening and doesn’t hesitate.

“Nat!” she shouts.

Nat turns, heart pounding, and Tai sends the ball flying toward her with pinpoint accuracy. Nat controls it with one perfect touch and drives forward. She weaves past one defender, then another, her legs burning, lungs screaming, but none of it matters. The goal is in her sights.

And then, with the keeper rushing out, she plants her foot, winds up and strikes.

The ball sails. Time slows. It hits the back of the goal with a satisfying snap.

She’s scored.

The crowd erupts and her teammates scream. Tai tackles her in a hug before she can even catch her breath and the rest of the team follows. The whistle is blown and it’s official, the Yellowjackets were going to nationals.

As they’re celebrating, Nat looks over and sees Lottie standing at the edge of the field, breathless, as if she had jumped out of her cab and run across campus, which, as it turns out, she had. Nat jogs up to her, still glowing from her goal.

"No time to change into a grey tracksuit?" Nat teases, her voice playful as she notices Lottie’s outfit, her usual pop star chic, still fresh from her concert.

"No more talking," Lottie replies with a grin, her eyes glinting with mischief.

In an instant, Lottie pulls her in by the waist, kissing her deeply, catching Nat off guard, but it’s the kind of kiss that leaves no room for hesitation, only the immediate pull of attraction and emotion.

"How’s that, champ?" Lottie asks, pulling back slightly to catch her breath.

"Pretty good, but I think you'd better do it again." Nat smirks, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Oh yeah?" Lottie raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in her gaze.

"Yeah," Nat responds, her voice low, a playful edge to it as she waits for the kiss that’s bound to come next.

The team celebrates on the field. At the fact that they just won and were heading to Nationals, but also that their star midfielder was making out with Lottie Matthews.

♫⋆♫⋆♫⋆

It had been six months since they started dating, and somehow, it felt both brand new and like it had always been meant to happen.

Lottie was taking Nat on tour next summer, not just as a guest, not just backstage, but with her. Like a statement.

The Yellowjackets had gone all the way and won at Nationals, with Lottie as their biggest, loudest cheerleader in the stands. She went the whole nine yards, face paint, school colours, yelling her lungs out. She was terrible at staying low-key, and Nat loved her for it.

The media, of course, had been a mess. Tabloids speculating, headlines twisting, cameras always trying to catch more than a look. But they were handling it. Together. With sarcasm, dark sunglasses, and a few well-timed “no comments.” Even though what Nat really wanted to do was flip them off.

They spent Christmas together, curled up on the couch at Lottie’s place with lights strung crookedly and cocoa that Nat had definitely burned.

Sure, Lottie's parents were still… adjusting. A little too distant, clearly unsure about how fast everything was moving with the tour, the relationship, the very public declarations. But they were getting there. Slowly.

Lottie didn’t flinch when her mom asked too many questions. Nat didn’t bolt when her dad gave her the “what are your intentions” talk. They were figuring it out.

Nat sidles up to Lottie on her piano bench, the soft sound of keys under her fingertips filling the quiet space.

“Want to hear another song off my new album?”

“An exclusive from the Lottie?” Nat teases, a playful grin on her face.

“Shut up.” Lottie rolls her eyes, but her lips curl into a smile, clearly entertained by the banter.

“I’ve loved everything you’ve played for me, but right now I want to hear something else.”

“And what’s that?” Lottie says, oh-so innocently.

Nat’s hands start to go up Lottie’s shirt, as her lips ghost the skin on her neck, “You know.”

“I think I do.”

Masterlist

24 notes · View notes