Zoe's POV
"Wait—WHAT?!" Ashley nearly choked on her own breath. "You live with the Rosses? Why are you just now telling me that?" Her wide eyes locked onto me like I'd just dropped the biggest bomb of the century.
I blinked, confused by her intensity. "I didn't think it was that deep," I replied casually, shrugging. "Didn't know it mattered this much."
It clearly did.
Ashley let out a long, dramatic sigh, like she was trying not to explode. Her fingers fluttered around as she tried to find the right words, but they slipped away before she could catch them. She wasn't angry—just stunned. Slightly wounded, even.
Right on cue, Guz stepped in like her personal therapist, holding her up like she was about to collapse. "Think happy thoughts," he said, fake-serious, like he was about to break into song.
I stifled a laugh. The last thing I wanted was to add salt to her already-bruised heart.
Ashley threw her head back and pretended to faint into Guz's arms before dramatically spinning toward me. "You don't get it! You live with the Greek gods of Lakeside Arts School and you're just… chill about it?!"
Now she was pushing it. I rolled my eyes. "Greek gods? Don't you think that's a bit much?"
"NO," she fired back, waving me off like I had just insulted her religion. "The god of fashion and the god of music!"
"Wait—music?" I asked, puzzled. "Brandon sings? And how exactly is Seth the god of—"
I didn't even finish the sentence before Guz was already unlocking his phone. "Let me show you something."
He handed me his phone and hit play.
The video lit up with a stage performance, and there he was—Brandon. But not the brooding, slightly miserable Brandon I'd met. No, this Brandon was magnetic. Dressed in sleek clothes, makeup subtly enhancing his sharp features, and a confident smile that made him look like a whole different person. His fingers glided effortlessly across a guitar, and when he sang?
Goosebumps.
Literal chills ran down my arms. His voice was velvet and fire—smooth but powerful. I watched, mesmerized, as he tossed his hair back and poured his soul into the lyrics.
He was good. Like... stupidly good. His friends played backup, forming a full-on band, each in perfect sync. The whole thing was unreal.
Ashley leaned into me with a smug grin. "It's okay to have a crush. I won't judge," she teased. "Every girl in school wants a slice of that cheesecake."
"Every girl?" I asked, immediately regretting how curious I sounded.
Ashley shrugged with a wink. "Well, not every girl. Some of us have better taste." She pointed at herself like she was royalty.
Right. Seth. Of course.
But something inside me twisted. A weird tug in my chest. I suddenly wanted to watch the video again. I needed to. The way he smiled on stage—genuinely smiled—was nothing like the cold, guarded version of him I'd seen at home.
That smile looked real.
If he could look that happy, then something was definitely off about how he was now. I found myself wanting to understand him, to figure out why he kept that version of himself locked away.
My cheeks flushed. I hoped they didn't notice.
Even when I got home, the video kept replaying in my mind. I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, still thinking about Brandon. His eyes… they held something. Depth. Maybe pain. His lyrics had felt like a message wrapped in melody.
And for the first time in forever, I felt inspired to write.
I hadn't touched my journal in months. But suddenly, the words were there, waiting. I yanked open my drawer and pulled out the pen Chloe had gifted me—my initials, Z.H., engraved in gold on the side.
The same pen Brandon had picked up the night he barged into my room.
Chloe had always believed in my writing, even when I didn't. For our sixteenth birthday, I wrote her a poem. She gave me this pen and matching diary, begging me to never stop writing.
I opened the journal, scribbled a few lines, then slammed it shut.
"Enough about Brandon," I muttered.
But the universe didn't care.
I got up and opened my window to let some cool air in—and guess who I saw? Brandon. Just pulling into the driveway, climbing out of his truck.
A truck? That caught me off guard. He didn't seem like the truck type. But then again, he didn't seem like a lot of things. Even looking stressed, he was... annoyingly handsome. I found myself watching, stealing glances like they were secrets.
And then—it happened.
His eyes met mine.
I froze, heart racing. Should I wave? Smile? Duck?
I panicked.
I waved.
He rolled his eyes and walked inside.
My soul nearly disintegrated from embarrassment. I dove across the room, yanked the curtains shut, and collapsed face-first onto my bed.
What was I thinking?! Why did I wave?! That was so awkward!
My legs felt like jelly. My face was on fire. "Sleep it off," I whispered to myself. But even when I closed my eyes, the awkward moment kept looping like a bad TikTok trend.
Eventually, I gave up. I sat up and grabbed my journal again.
Whenever I missed Chloe, I wrote letters to her. It helped. Made me feel like she was still here.
Dear Chloe,
My first day at Lakeside Arts went better than expected. I made some amazing friends—Ash is wild and sweet, Guz is hilarious and crazy smart. I also gained a rival—her name's Casey. She probably wants to slap me.
Seth was super kind today, but Brandon? That boy is a mystery wrapped in a grumpy burrito. I don't get him.
But hey, I gave a speech and got a standing ovation! Can you believe it? I felt like I was floating. Like you were standing right there, cheering me on. I'm finally ready to chase what we dreamed about. For both of us.
I miss you, Sis. So much. I hope I'm making you proud.
Tears blurred the ink. I wiped them quickly with the back of my hand and hugged the journal close.
I would've given anything to have Chloe here with me. Just one more laugh. One more hug.
Needing to clear my head, I stepped out of my room. As I closed the door behind me, a soft tune floated through the hallway.
Brandon's door was open.
Music spilled out—gentle, melancholic, raw. I crept closer, drawn to the sound like a moth to flame. I just wanted to listen, maybe even tell him it was beautiful.
But the second he saw me?
He got up.
Walked over.
And slammed the door shut.
Right in my face.
Wow.
Rude.
Any softness I'd felt toward him shattered instantly. I turned on my heel, trying to brush it off. But it stuck with me—like dust in a storm.
Maybe Brandon Ross wasn't mysterious or misunderstood.
Maybe he was just a jerk.