Chapter Text
By the fourth run-through, Megan’s lungs burned in that good, sharp way that meant the choreo was finally sinking into her bones.
“Five, six, seven, hit!” the choreographer yelled.
The bass drop in “Gabriela.” slammed through the studio speakers, and twelve bodies moved like one. Megan slid into her spot behind Daniela, spine snapping straight as she hit the body roll, left hand grazing the air just behind Dani’s waist, never quite touching.
She knew, down to the millimetre, how close she could get without it being weird.
Dani’s hair whipped over her shoulder, almost smacking Megan in the face on the turn. Megan smiled despite herself. She could smell Dani’s shampoo, coconut and something floral, and she shouldn’t know that she knew that, but she did.
“Sharp, Megan!” the choreographer barked, but it was approving. “That break is yours and Dani’s. Everyone else builds around you.”
Megan fixed her gaze on Dani’s shoulder blades, glistening faintly with sweat under the cropped white tank. Four weeks until the first arena date of the U.S. leg. Four weeks until thirty thousand people watched this moment and saw Dani, the star, and Megan, the shadow right behind her.
Better a shadow than nothing.
The bridge kicked in, the dancers fanning out. Megan and Dani fell into the little partner section they’d been working on for days: a mirrored slide, a quick spin, Dani’s hand catching Megan’s forearm to yank her back into place.
“Pull her like you mean it, Dani,” the choreographer called. “She’s not glass.”
“Oh, I know,” Dani tossed back, laughing, breathless. “Meg’s indestructible.”
Meg. Not Megan. Not Miss Skiendiel. Megan swallowed and forced her body to keep moving instead of melting into the floor.
Dani’s fingers slid around her forearm on the next run. Warm, solid.
“Is this okay?” Dani murmured, a private question under the music.
“Yeah,” Megan said, hoping it didn’t come out as a squeak. “You can go harder.”
She could feel Dani grin without even looking at her.
The song cut suddenly and the speakers went quiet with a click.
“Okay!” the choreographer clapped. “Ten-minute break. Hydrate, stretch, nobody dies. Then we run the full set list.”
Groans rippled through the room, the good-natured kind. Someone flopped theatrically onto the polished floor. Yoonchae, already halfway to the wall, turned and shot Megan a look.
The look said: You’re staring again.
Megan pretended she didn’t see it and bent forward to stretch her hamstrings, palms flat on the floor. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. In the wall-length mirror, thirty versions of her staring back, messy bun, sports bra, old army-green joggers with a rip near the knee.
And Dani, front and center, still catching her breath, hair pulled into a high ponytail, the tiny gold hoops in her ears flashing under the fluorescent lights.
Six months since the first audition. Six months dancing two steps behind her. Six months of fighting the stupid swooping feeling in her chest every time Dani laughed at one of her jokes, every time Dani texted her a “u good?” when she was late to rehearsal because the subway stalled.
And, for the last three months, six months of watching Dani kiss Jonah David by the studio door before every rehearsal.
“Your heart is hanging out,” Yoonchae said, suddenly next to her, dropping into a straddle stretch.
Megan blinked. “What?”
“You’re staring like she swallowed the sun or something,” Yoonchae said, folding forward. Her dark hair fell over her face. “Close your chest, you’re leaking.”
Megan snorted despite herself. “That’s not how bodies work, Chae.”
“Yours is weird.” Yoonchae lifted her head, serious now. “You good?”
“I’m fine,” Megan lied, rolling out her ankles. “Just tired.”
“You’re always tired when Jonah shows up,” Yoonchae muttered.
“As if on cue,” someone near the door said.
A buzz moved through the room. Megan glanced up.
There he was.
Jonah David walked in like he owned the studio, even though he didn’t; even though his last EP launch had been in a venue with sticky floors and a two-drink minimum. He had the indie-boy thing going hard, vintage band tee, cuffed jeans, a beanie despite the warm room. His guitar case hung off one shoulder, more accessory than instrument.
“Mí amor!” Dani called, bright and automatic, like a line she’d said a thousand times into microphones and cameras, except this time it was just for him.
She jogged over, ponytail swinging, and Jonah opened his arms in a hug that looked more like a red carpet pose. His eyes flicked around the room over her shoulder, fast, calculating. They caught on the corner where Manon stood.
Megan watched Manon adjust her glasses with an annoyed little flick.
Daniela’s manager was practically made of angles, the sharp line of her jaw, the straight fall of her tailored black trousers. Clipboard tucked under one arm, phone in hand, she looked like she’d step in front of a speeding truck if it threatened the tour schedule.
She did not look delighted to see Jonah. Then again, Megan had never seen Manon look delighted about anything except a finalized contract and maybe a perfectly timed espresso.
“Break’s ten minutes, Dani,” Manon called, British accent crisp. “Not a meet and greet.”
“Relax, Manon,” Jonah said, only half joking. “I’m just here to support.”
“Support quietly, then.”
Dani rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. “Ignore her. She was born thirty-five.”
“I’m twenty-three,” Manon said dryly, but her focus was already back on her phone, thumb flicking through emails.
Megan tore her gaze away and stood, grabbing her water bottle. No big deal. Daniela was allowed to have a boyfriend. Allowed to have ten. Allowed to have a whole stadium full of people chanting her name and a different person in her bed every night. None of that had anything to do with Megan’s job.
Which was: hit the choreo, catch the cues, don’t drop her.
That was it.
So it was stupid that every time Jonah laughed, something in her ribs flinched like she’d taken a punch.
“You’re making that face again,” Yoonchae said around the mouth of her water bottle.
“What face?”
“The ‘I’m happy for her, I swear’ face.”
Megan made a show of squinting at the choreo notes taped to the mirror. “Choreo face.”
“Crush face.”
“Hydrate,” Megan said, bumping Yoonchae’s shoulder with hers.
She took a long sip of water and let her gaze drift, not entirely on purpose, to the side of the room.
Near the wardrobe racks, Lara was holding up a denim jacket to the light like it had insulted her. The stylist’s tape measure dangled around her neck. Bits of thread clung to her black tee.
“It reads flat,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “On stage it’s going to look like the back of a chair.”
“It’s a jacket, Lara,” one of the dancers said.
“It can be a jacket and not be boring, bebé. Radical concept.”
Megan liked Lara. Lara treated the dancers like part of the show, not props. When she’d first joined the team, Lara had taken one look at her and said, “We’re not hiding those legs in baggy pants all tour, babe,” which had embarrassed Megan enough to spend the whole fitting blushing.
She drifted toward the door, intending to refill her bottle, when the studio door opened again.
For a second, Megan thought it was another assistant or maybe catering. But then the room actually shifted, like the energy tilted, just a degree.
“Holy shit,” someone whispered near the wall.
Sophia Laforteza stood in the doorway, grinning, a khaki trench half slung off one shoulder and a navy baseball cap in her hand.
Megan had only met her twice before. Dani’s best friend. Occasional songwriter. The person Dani’s face lit up for even more than it did for an arena crowd.
And Manon’s girlfriend.
If Jonah was indie-boy charming, Sophia was chaos in red lipstick. Her hair was twisted up in a messy knot, sunglasses perched on top like she’d walked straight out of a paparazzi photo.
“What are you doing here?” Dani squealed, already sprinting from Jonah’s side.
Sophia dropped her duffel and opened her arms just in time. They crashed into each other, laughing.
“Sorpresa,” Sophia said into Dani’s shoulder. “Couldn’t let you do your first full U.S. tour rehearsals without me watching you suffer.”
“You said you couldn’t get away!” Dani pulled back, eyes shining. “Something with the label...”
“I lied,” Sophia said cheerfully. “Also, I bullied my A&R guy until he gave in.”
Megan shifted her water bottle from one hand to the other. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jonah’s jaw tighten.
“Oh,” Dani said, suddenly remembering. She grabbed Sophia’s hand and tugged her into the room. “You know Jonah. Jonah, Sophia.”
Sophia’s gaze flicked to him, sharp and assessing in a second. Then she smiled, all teeth.
“Of course,” she said. “The famous Jonah.”
He puffed up a little. “I don’t know about famous...”
“Daniela will make you famous,” Sophia said, and it sounded like a joke, except something in the room went still. “She does that.”
Dani swatted her arm. “Soph.”
“Kidding, kidding.” Sophia kissed Dani’s cheek again. “You look tired. You sleeping?”
“Not with Manon’s schedule,” Dani said.
“We have four weeks,” Manon replied without looking up.
It was only then that Manon really looked at Sophia.
The irritation she’d been carrying, at Jonah, at email, at the universe in general, melted off her face in an instant, like someone had flipped a switch.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Manon demanded, but her voice was softer than Megan had ever heard it.
Sophia’s mouth curved. “Because your calendar is scarier than my A&R guy, and if I told you, you’d try to optimize me like I was a meeting.”
A couple of dancers snorted.
Manon rolled her eyes, but she was already walking over, clipboard tucked under her arm, one hand reaching for Sophia’s waist like it was muscle memory.
“Hi,” she said, and the word didn’t sound like it belonged in a boardroom. “You’re supposed to be in New York.”
“Hi,” Sophia echoed. “I brought you something.”
“Please tell me it’s patience,” Manon said. “I could use some.”
Sophia laughed and lifted the baseball cap she’d been holding this whole time.
It was a Dodgers cap. Classic blue, the white LA stitched on the front a little frayed, like it wasn’t new.
Megan watched Manon’s face soften further, the lines between her brows easing.
“You didn’t,” Manon murmured, taking it carefully, like it might break.
“One of the last ones I had at my dad’s,” Sophia said, words suddenly quieter, edged with something vulnerable. “Found it when I went home last week. Figured you needed some L.A. luck if you’re going to try to keep her on schedule for thirty cities.”
She jerked her head toward Dani, who threw her a fake-offended gasp.
“You sure you don’t want to keep it?” Manon asked, thumb brushing over the brim.
Sophia shrugged, casual, but her eyes were gentle. “I’ve got the memories. You get the hat.”
Around them, the dancers were trying very hard not to stare, which meant they were absolutely staring. Even Jonah had gone quiet.
Megan glanced at Yoonchae. Her friend’s eyebrows were nearly in her hairline.
Manon cleared her throat, suddenly aware of the audience again. “Well. Thank you. I...”
“Put it on,” Sophia said.
“I’m not wearing a hat in the middle of rehearsals,” Manon said, scandalized.
Sophia stepped closer, crowding gently into her space in a way that made Megan’s chest ache with secondhand warmth. “You tell Dani what to do all day. Let me boss you around for once.”
Megan pretended to study the floor, but in the mirror she saw it: the precise moment Manon’s carefully tailored composure cracked, and something softer, younger peeked through.
She let Sophia place the cap on her head, pushing her dark hair back. It didn’t match her pressed shirt or her serious expression, and somehow it was perfect.
“There,” Sophia said. “Now you look like someone who remembers what sunshine is.”
A few people chuckled. Manon’s ears went pink.
“If anyone takes a picture, I’m firing you,” she said, but she was smiling. Actually smiling.
“Sophia,” Dani said, swiping sweat from her jaw with a towel, “come watch this next run. I need you to tell me if the second verse feels too empty.”
“It feels empty because I didn’t write it,” Sophia said matter-of-factly, hooking her arm through Manon’s. “But sure.”
Dani groaned. “Why are you so mean?”
“Because you like it,” Sophia tossed over her shoulder, dragging Manon toward the chairs at the side.
Megan’s heart twisted again, but this time in a different direction. Watching Dani with Sophia was like watching a version of Dani the rest of the world didn’t get.
With Jonah, she was polished, girlfriend-of-the-year. With Sophia, she was a little bratty, a little more real.
And with Megan…
With Megan she was, what? Boss? Friend? Co-worker? Something half-written?
“Places!” the choreographer yelled. “We’re running ‘Gabriela’ from the top.”
Megan moved back to her mark, feet on the scuffed piece of tape that had her name scribbled on it.
Dani returned to center, sending a quick smile over her shoulder at Sophia, then Jonah, then, unexpectedly, Megan.
“You good?” she called.
Megan’s stomach did a little flip. “Always.”
The track started again.
This time, Dani’s energy was different. Brighter, sharper. She lived for an audience, even if it was just three people on folding chairs and one idiot with a guitar case.
The verse rolled, the pre-chorus swelled, and Megan slipped into the gravitational pull of the choreo, every step better than muscle memory, something like faith.
When they hit the dance break, the room narrowed to just the two of them.
Dani’s body curved forward, hair flying, and Megan followed a beat behind, echoing her lines. Spin, jump, land, their shoulders almost brushing. Dani’s palm slid along her arm, catching her forearm, tugging her into the reversal.
“Harder,” Megan reminded her, low.
Dani’s fingers tightened. The world snapped into focus.
There was a beat, half a second, where their faces were inches apart, breath mingling, the heat of Dani’s skin radiating between them.
Megan could see every fleck of brown in Dani’s eyes. The tiny scar on her bottom lip from some long-ago fall. The constellation of sweat on her temple.
“Better?” Dani asked, voice barely audible over the music.
“Yeah,” Megan managed.
Then they broke apart, the choreo flipping them into new positions, the moment swallowed by the chorus.
When the song ended, the studio erupted into scattered applause and whoops. Sophia whistled loudly, two fingers in her mouth.
“Okay, okay!” she called. “That was sick.”
Dani beamed, glowing, and aimed it toward Sophia, then toward the whole room. “Hear that? Sophia says we’re sick.”
“You’re sick,” Sophia corrected. “The rest of them keep you from falling on your ass.”
“Rude,” Dani said, but she was laughing.
“Accurate,” Manon murmured under her breath, though there was pride in her eyes.
Jonah clapped slowly, like he’d just watched a decent indie film. “Yeah, babe, that was… yeah. Crazy.”
Megan watched his expression. There it was again, that quick flick toward Manon, toward the door, like he was measuring how long he had to be here before he could leave or post something about it.
She hoped she was wrong. She really hoped she was being unfair.
“Again,” the choreographer said. “From the bridge.”
Groans, but everyone moved into place.
They ran it twice more. On the second pass, Dani’s thigh clipped Megan’s when they came out of a spin. It wasn’t a big hit, just enough to throw her balance off for a second.
“Shit, sorry,” Dani said instantly, reaching out.
“I’m fine,” Megan said, steadying herself, even though her thigh throbbed.
“You sure?” Dani’s fingers were on her waist now, light, checking. “You want Lara to tape…”
“I’m good,” Megan said again, maybe a little too fast. The room suddenly felt too small. Too full of eyes. “It’ll bruise, that’s all.”
Dani’s brows drew together, concern crinkling the skin between them. “Okay, but tell me if it gets worse, yeah? We need you.”
The words hit harder than the knock to her leg.
“We,” Megan repeated, because she was an idiot. “You mean the team.”
Dani tilted her head, studying her. “Yeah. I mean I do too, but…”
“From the bridge!” the choreographer yelled. “Stop flirting and get your asses in gear.”
Heat flooded Megan’s face. Dani rolled her eyes dramatically.
“We’re not flirting, we’re arguing,” she said.
“Same thing with you,” Sophia called.
Laughter rippled through the room. Megan wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Instead, she took her mark and forced her mind back into the counts.
When the break finally ended for real, they had twenty minutes for a late lunch. People scattered, some to the hallway, some collapsing dramatically on yoga mats.
Megan headed for the corner where the foam rollers and stretch bands were. Sitting felt dangerous; if she sat, she might scroll through Dani’s Instagram again like a masochist.
She was halfway into a quad stretch when Lara appeared, a roll of kinesiology tape in hand.
“Heard you got body-checked,” Lara said, clicking her tongue. “Show me.”
“It’s fine,” Megan insisted, but she didn’t move away when Lara crouched beside her.
Lara poked gently at her thigh through the thin fabric of her joggers. “Hmm. Not terrible. It’ll bruise pretty.”
“Is that a thing?” Megan asked.
“Everything’s a thing if I say it is,” Lara replied. “Pull your pants up a bit.”
Megan complied, cheeks heating for the millionth time that day. The skin already bloomed a faint pink.
Lara taped her with quick, efficient fingers. “There. Should help support it. You tell me if she actually injures you, I’ll swap her heels for something ugly as revenge.”
Megan laughed. “She’d fire you.”
“She loves me,” Lara said airily. “She loves all of you. Even if she’s an idiot about it.”
The words lodged in Megan’s chest. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “She’s… good.”
Lara looked up at her, eyes suddenly sharp. “You’re quiet today.”
“I’m always quiet,” Megan said.
“Quieter,” Lara said. “Is it Jonah?”
“What?” Megan almost dropped the foam roller. “No. I don’t…why would it be…”
Lara raised an eyebrow.
Megan deflated. “It’s nothing.”
“Hmm.” Lara sat back on her heels. “The thing about her is, she’s got these blinders on, you know? She stares at the next tour, the next album, the next crisis. Half the time she doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.”
“Like Jonah,” Megan said before she could stop herself.
Lara’s mouth twitched. “Like a lot of things,” she said. “Drink water, babe.”
She stood and moved on, yelling at another dancer whose sports bra clashed with the planned color palette.
Megan exhaled slowly, then pushed herself to her feet.
As she headed for her bag, she saw Sophia and Manon by the far wall, slightly away from everyone. Manon’s hat was tipped back on her head, her fingers linked with Sophia’s.
“You really came just for this?” Manon was asking, voice low.
“What, you think I booked three red-eyes and lied to my label because I like LAX security?” Sophia said. “Of course I came for you.”
Manon’s shoulders loosened. “We’re going to be gone for almost two months.”
“I know,” Sophia said. “So I wanted to see you before you disappear into tour mode. Watch you yell at some poor assistant. It’s cute.”
Manon snorted. “It’s work.”
“It’s hot,” Sophia corrected, and Manon’s ears went pink again.
Megan tore her gaze away, feeling suddenly like she’d walked in on something too intimate, even though they were twenty feet away in a crowded room.
She made for the hallway instead, letting the cooler air hit her flushed face.
The corridor outside the studio was quieter, lined with posters from past tours, their edges curling. Some were Daniela’s, Latin American legs, European runs, her face bigger and bolder on each one. Some were other artists who’d used this rehearsal space. The air smelled like coffee and floor polish.
Megan leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes for a second.
She could do this. Four more weeks of rehearsals. Two months of tour. She could be professional. She could pretend her heart didn’t scrape against her ribs every time Dani touched her wrist, every time she laughed, every time she said “We need you” and meant it like a team, not a confession.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out.
A text from her mom, a picture of the family dog in a sweater.
She smiled despite the knot in her chest and typed back a heart and “he hates that and u know it,” then shoved the phone away.
“Hey,” a voice said, close.
Megan’s eyes flew open. Daniela stood a few feet away, towel slung around her neck, a bottle of coconut water in hand, hair frizzing slightly around her face.
“How did you sneak out here without my entire team following you?” Megan asked, surprised at how steady her voice sounded.
“I told them I was going to pee,” Dani said, then grimaced. “I probably shouldn’t tell you that.”
“I’ve heard worse,” Megan said, lips twitching.
Dani stepped closer, leaning her shoulder against the wall beside Megan’s. The corridor narrowed again, shrinking to just the two of them.
“You okay?” Dani asked.
Megan blinked. “Yeah. Why?”
“You went quiet after I tripped you,” Dani said. “I felt bad. I didn’t mean to knock you like that.”
“It was a love tap,” Megan said lightly. “Part of the choreography now.”
Dani smiled, but her eyes stayed searching. “You sure, though? If you’re hurt, you have to tell me. I don’t want you pushing through an injury and then…”
“I’m taped up,” Megan interrupted. “Lara took care of it. It’s nothing, promise.”
Dani nodded slowly, like she was filing that away. “Okay. Good.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
Megan became acutely aware of everything, the faint scuff of shoes from another studio down the hall, the hum of the vending machine, the warmth radiating from Dani’s arm inches from hers.
“How are you doing?” Dani said suddenly.
Megan frowned. “I just told you I’m okay.”
“No, like…” Dani waved the bottle vaguely. “You know. You. First big tour. First time being my main backup. I’ve been so in my own head I haven’t really checked in with you.”
Oh.
Megan swallowed. “I’m good. Tired. Excited.”
“Nervous?” Dani asked.
“A little,” Megan admitted. “It’s a lot. But it’s… it’s what I want.”
Dani’s mouth curved. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Megan said. “I mean, dancing for you… this tour… it’s kind of, uh. The dream.”
The words hung between them, heavier than she meant them to.
Dani’s gaze softened. “You’re really good, you know,” she said quietly. “Like, really. You make me better up there.”
Heat flooded Megan’s chest. She had to look away. “It’s the choreo.”
“It’s you,” Dani said firmly. “There’s a difference. I feel it.”
Megan’s heart did something dangerous.
“Don’t say stuff like that,” she muttered.
“Why not? It’s true.” Dani bumped her shoulder gently against Megan’s. “I’m allowed to hype my people.”
“Just your people?” Megan said before she could stop herself.
Dani hesitated.
For a fraction of a second, there was something undefinable in her eyes. A flicker. A question. Then her phone buzzed in her pocket, loud in the quiet hallway.
She sighed and pulled it out, glancing at the screen.
“Manon’s gonna murder me,” she groaned. “We’re ten minutes over break. She sent the skull emoji and everything.”
“Terrifying,” Megan said.
“You have no idea.” Dani pushed off the wall. “Come back in with me? I hate being the first one in there, everyone stares.”
“You like when people stare,” Megan said, following.
“Not when I’m this sweaty,” Dani said, wrinkling her nose. “Also, Sophia’s there, she’s gonna roast me if I miss a step.”
“She already roasted all of us,” Megan said.
“I heard,” Dani said. “This is why she’s my best friend. She keeps my head normal-sized.”
They reached the studio door. Dani paused with her hand on the handle.
“Hey, Meg?”
“Yeah?”
Dani looked at her like she was trying to see all the way through. Megan’s breath caught.
“Thanks,” Dani said finally. “For… doing this with me. The tour. The rehearsals. All of it. I don’t say it enough.”
Megan’s throat felt too tight. “You pay me,” she managed.
Dani rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I’d be screwed without you. So. Thanks.”
She pushed the door open before Megan could respond and headed back into the noise and light of the studio.
Megan stood there for a heartbeat longer, watching her go.
Inside, Sophia threw a scrunched-up napkin at Dani’s head. Jonah leaned against the wall, scrolling his phone. Manon barked into her headset, the Dodgers cap shadowing her eyes. Lara fussed with a rack of sequined tops.
And Dani, in the middle of it all, turned back just once and caught Megan’s eye, smiling like the break in the hallway had been their secret.
Megan took a breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped back into the room.
Four weeks. A whole tour.
She could survive unrequited. She’d done it this long.
But as she took her place behind Dani again, so close she could almost feel the warmth of her back, Megan couldn’t help the thought that slid, traitorous and quiet, through her mind.
Maybe blinders didn’t stay on forever.
Maxamillion’s house didn’t look like a house so much as a museum for people who’d never heard the phrase “too much.”
Massive glass walls, a pool that seemed to run right into the edge of the cliff, LED strips in colours that no natural sky ever made. Every corner had a ring light or some kind of branded step-and-repeat. There were more cameras than lamps.
Daniela let Jonah tow her through the front hall, her hand in his, the bass from the poolside DJ thrumming in her chest.
“Babe, that’s him,” Jonah said under his breath, nodding toward a guy in a checkerboard shirt and diamond chain. “Maxamillion. We gotta say hi before he gets swarmed.”
“Yeah, of course.” Dani pasted on her stage smile. “Whatever you need.”
He kissed her cheek absently, already recalibrating his route through the crowd.
Dani adjusted the strap of her tiny bag and followed, weaving past influencers in coordinated outfits and models with hair that looked like it had its own glam squad. Somewhere, someone shouted “Roll!” and a ring light flared to life.
Rehearsals still buzzed in her muscles, a faint echo of the choreo. She should have gone home. She should have showered, iced her knees, scrolled TikToks until she knocked out.
Instead she was here, at yet another one of Maxamillion’s exclusives, with Jonah vibrating at a slightly higher frequency every time someone vaguely important walked by.
“This is huge for my next drop,” he’d said in the Uber, leaning across the seat to kiss her quickly while checking his reflection in his phone. “Max has, like, everyone here. It’s all cross-pollination.”
“Like bees,” Dani had murmured, amused. “Very sexy.”
He’d laughed and squeezed her knee, but his eyes had gone back to the screen, watching his follower count tick in fits and starts.
Now, in the thrumming heart of the party, she watched him beeline toward Maxamillion like a pilgrim to a shrine.
“Max!” he called, voice just loud enough to be casual, not desperate. “Man, thanks for having us.”
Max turned, arms outstretched, phone in his hand already filming.
“Yo, Jonah David in the building!” he crowed. “And…hold up…no fucking way. Daniela Avanzini? You didn’t tell me you were bringing her.”
He swung the camera toward her. Dani felt the reflex kick in—chin angle, smile, the microsecond scan to make sure there were no weird shadows under her eyes.
“Hi,” she said, leaning in, giving a quick wave. “Gracias por invitarnos.”
Max whooped. “This is wild, bro. I gotta get you in the vlog. Say something for my people.”
Dani did the thing, the standard “love you guys, be good to each other” in English and then a quick flip to Spanish because she knew Max had been trying to expand his audience. She could almost hear Manon in her head: this is good, we want you visible ahead of the tour; it humanizes you, it sells tickets.
Max hugged Jonah one-armed, still holding the phone with the other. “Come through to the pool later, we’re doing a shot roulette thing. Great content. Great vibes.”
“Bet,” Jonah said, laughing. “We’ll be there.”
Max darted away toward a cluster of TikTokers doing a choreo that made Dani’s knees ache just looking at it.
Jonah turned to her, eyes bright. “Did you hear that? We’ll be in the vlog. His vlogs hit, like, two mil easy.”
Dani smiled. “Cool.”
He didn’t seem to notice the flatness in it. He was already scanning again, like the room was a board and he was trying to keep pieces moving.
“Okay, I see a couple producers I gotta talk to,” he said. “You good? Need anything?”
You, she almost said, then swallowed it back because that was stupid. She had him. He was right here.
“I’m good,” she said lightly. “Just don’t leave me for dead with the hypebeasts.”
He laughed, distracted. “Never. Just…roll with me?”
She did.
For the next half hour, Dani followed him like a backup dancer. He’d pause, slip into a conversation, Hey man, big fan of your work, yeah I’ve got this project dropping, we should sync sometime, and she’d stand a step behind, smiling when anyone looked her way, hugging people she half-recognized from award show after-parties.
Every so often, Jonah would loop an arm around her waist and introduce her. “My girl, Dani. She’s working on her tour right now,” he’d say, like she was the one on an up-and-comer grind.
Most of the time, though, they already knew who she was.
“Holy shit, Daniela,” a model squealed at one point, clutching her arm. “My cousin in Peru is gonna die when I tell her I saw you. Can we do a video?”
“Of course,” Dani said automatically, angling them into better light.
Out of habit, she checked that Jonah was nearby. He was, partially laughing with a producer, gesturing with his drink. His eyes flicked over when he heard the squeal, and something in them went calculating for half a heartbeat before smoothing back into easy charm.
She did the video, made the girl’s night, handed her a compliment about her outfit without thinking. The girl beamed like Dani had given her tickets to the show.
This part she knew how to do. This part was easy.
But as the circuits of networking and chatting continued, Dani’s head started to buzz. The music was good, probably, some remixes she’d normally go crazy over, but it all blurred into a bassy throb.
She realized she was thirsty and had no idea where the bar was.
“Babe,” she murmured, leaning toward Jonah as he listened to a DJ talk about their Vegas residency. “I’m gonna grab a drink, okay?”
He looked at her, then back at the DJ. “Yeah, yeah, totally. I’ll find you in a sec.”
She hesitated. “You want anything?”
“I’m good.” His hand squeezed her elbow absently before he turned fully back to the conversation. “Anyway, like I was saying, the sonic palette on this new one…”
Dani stepped away, her smile dropping as soon as Jonah’s attention did.
She pushed through a cluster of people taking selfies and made for the side of the house, where big glass doors opened toward the pool. The night air rushed in, cooler, carrying the faint smell of chlorine and ocean.
There was a bar set up by the edge of the pool, fairy lights tangled above it. That’s where the influencers had congregated, their laughter high and sharp as they filmed slo-mo shots of drinks being poured.
Dani decided she did not have the energy for that. She veered instead toward the quieter corner near a row of lounge chairs where a few small groups were scattered, talking.
Her gaze flicked around almost automatically, half on the lookout for anyone she knew. There were one or two artists she recognized, a TikTok comedian she followed, and…
Oh.
Near the far end of the pool, standing by the glass fence that looked out over the city, Megan was laughing at something, head tipped back.
The sight of her hit Dani with ridiculous, unexpected force.
Megan looked… different. Not rehearsal-different, not show-different. Just… off-duty. Her hair was down, a dark wave around her shoulders instead of scraped into a bun. She’d swapped her joggers for cut-off black denim shorts and an oversized faded Blur tee knotted at the waist. A silver chain peeked at her collarbone, catching the light when she moved.
Next to her, Yoonchae perched on the fence, nursing a drink and watching the party like it was a mildly interesting nature documentary.
And standing with them, hands wrapped around a short glass, was a woman Dani didn’t know.
She was older, mid-thirties maybe, with cropped, slightly mussed blonde hair and a suit jacket thrown over a graphic tee. Even from across the pool, Dani could hear her laugh: low, throaty, British.
The woman gestured with her glass, said something that made Megan burst out laughing again, covering her mouth with her hand as if trying to stuff the sound back in.
Something in Dani’s chest did a strange little stutter.
She realized she was staring and dragged her gaze away, stepping up to the bar.
“Tequila soda,” she said automatically, then remembered Manon’s voice in her head about her vocal cords and added, “Actually sparkling water with lime, por favor.”
The bartender nodded, turned away.
Dani glanced back toward the far end.
Yoonchae saw her first. Their eyes met, and Yoonchae lifted her glass in a tiny salute, a knowing twist to her mouth.
Dani stuck her tongue out at her. Yoonchae snorted.
Megan still hadn’t noticed her. She was listening to the blonde woman, nodding, one hip cocked. She looked… young. Not in a “too young for this place” way, but in a “hasn’t learned to be bored of this yet” way. Her whole face lit when she smiled.
The woman said something else, leaning in a little. Megan’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the party lighting.
Dani’s fingers tightened involuntarily around the edge of the bar.
Jealousy slid, sharp and inexplicable, through her. It made no sense. Megan was allowed to talk to people. Megan was allowed to talk to whoever she wanted.
And that woman was clearly gay, Dani wasn’t oblivious. There was something easy in the way she held herself, the way she smiled at Megan, open and appreciative. It was familiar; Dani had seen that same vibe backstage at festivals, in green rooms, in late-night bars in Madrid and London.
Her drink arrived. She took a long sip of fizzy lime water that did nothing to wash away the feeling.
“Go say hi,” she muttered to herself.
She could. She should. Megan was part of her team. If her dancers were at the same party, she should make sure they were having a good time, not being creeped on by strangers twice their age.
That’s all this was. Protectiveness. Responsible-artist energy. Not, whatever that tightness in her gut was.
She took another sip and then, before she could overthink it, started toward them.
As she approached, she caught the tail end of the blonde woman’s sentence.
“…and then, I shit you not, he plays the wrong track live on air,” she was saying, “and I’m sat there, with thirty seconds of dead fucking air, just looking at the soundboard like it’s personally betrayed me.”
Megan giggled, bright and a little breathless. “What did you do?”
“I swore, obviously,” the woman said. “Live. At eight-thirty in the morning. In front of half of London.”
“Oh my God.”
“And then I played ‘Mr. Brightside’ and pretended I’d meant to.” She took a sip of her drink, eyes crinkling. “Always bail out with ‘Mr. Brightside.’ Works every time.”
Yoonchae snorted into her cup. “Seems like a British national emergency plan.”
The woman bowed her head slightly. “You get it. Anyway, Ofcom yelled at us and then we all had a nice little chat about appropriate language for the youth of today.”
“Wait, so you’re…you’re really on the radio?” Megan asked. “Like, actual radio?”
The woman huffed a laugh. “I am indeed ‘on the radio,’ as the kids say. Harriet Rose.” She stuck out a hand. “KISS FM. Night slot, mostly. Occasional mischief at breakfast.”
“Megan,” Megan said, shaking her hand. “Backup dancer. Occasional mischief at rehearsals.”
“I’m aware,” Harriet said. “Didn’t realize Dani’s dancers were so charming, though. You stealing my job already.”
Megan’s blush deepened. “I…no, I…”
“She’s kidding,” Yoonchae cut in, amused.
Harriet smiled, looking like she absolutely wasn’t.
“Hey,” Dani said, finally within a couple of feet of them. “You lot having fun without me?”
Three heads turned toward her.
Megan’s eyes widened. “Dani. Hey.”
She straightened instinctively, shoulders pulling back like she was bracing for a count-in.
Yoonchae, still perched on the fence, smirked. “We’re, like, contractually obligated to have thirty percent less fun when you’re not in the room.”
“Rude,” Dani said.
Harriet’s gaze flicked over Dani, taking her in. Recognition bloomed on her face. “Well, well. The woman of the hour.”
Dani smiled, slipping into stage presence like a jacket. “Hi. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“We haven’t,” Harriet said. “But I’ve yelled your name at the top of my lungs with a mic in my hand at least a hundred times. Harriet Rose. I’m on Kiss, in London.”
Dani’s face lit. “You’re Harriet? They play your show on the bus sometimes when we’re in Europe.”
Harriet’s brows shot up. “Do they now?”
“Yeah, when we’re doing festivals.” Dani’s accent thickened a little in her excitement. “You did this whole bit about a guy who tattooed his girlfriend’s name wrong”
“Oh my God,” Harriet groaned. “Don’t remind me. I got so many angry emails from a man called ‘Bian.’”
Megan snorted.
“Anyway,” Harriet went on, turning back to Dani with a grin, “big fan. ‘Gabriela.’ lives rent-free in my head. Nice to see you in the flesh instead of as a waveform on my desk.”
Dani felt the tiredness of rehearsals blur at the edges. This part never got old. “Thank you. It’s really nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I was just telling your dancer here” Harriet flicked her chin toward Megan, “about the joy of saying ‘fuck’ on live radio when you’re technically not supposed to.”
“It was educational,” Megan said solemnly.
Dani laughed.
She noticed, belatedly, that she’d drifted closer to Megan than strictly necessary. Their arms almost brushed. From here, she could smell Megan’s perfume, something light, a bit citrusy, cut through with the faint salt of sweat from rehearsals she clearly hadn’t fully showered out.
You’re insane, she told herself.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Megan instead. “I didn’t know you guys were coming.”
“Lara got us on the list,” Yoonchae said. “She had a fitting with someone and had an extra plus-one situation, so.” She gestured around. “Content.”
Megan rolled her eyes affectionately. “She also said we needed to ‘remember we’re hot outside of fluorescent lighting.’”
“She’s not wrong,” Harriet murmured, eyes on Megan again.
A spark of irritation flared in Dani’s chest.
She shifted her weight, interposing herself just a fraction more between Harriet and Megan. “You met Harriet how?” she asked, maybe a little too brightly.
“She nearly spilled a drink on me,” Megan said, amused. “We were both reaching for the same napkin at the bar and she apologized like twenty times.”
“In my defense,” Harriet said, “I refuse to ruin a woman’s shoes on a first meeting. It’s bad form.”
Dani glanced automatically at Megan’s feet, black ankle boots, scuffed but cute. She had a sudden, stupid image of someone’s drink splashing over them and felt unreasonably annoyed on the boots’ behalf.
“So you’re out here networking too?” Harriet asked Dani, taking a sip of her drink. “Or just trying to remember which time zone you’re in?”
“A little of both,” Dani said. “Jonah wanted to come. Maxamillion knows a lot of producers he wants to work with.”
“Ah, the boyfriend,” Harriet said, following Dani’s glance over her shoulder.
Dani turned enough to track what Harriet was seeing.
Across the patio, Jonah stood in a tight little knot of men in expensive sneakers and women in immaculate eyeliner. He was mid-story, hands painting the air, laughter timed perfectly with theirs. His arm lifted once, and Dani’s name flashed on his phone screen as he showed them something, a clip, or maybe a text, she couldn’t tell.
He didn’t look her way.
Harriet hummed under her breath. “He’s got good patter, I’ll give him that.”
“He’s great,” Dani said automatically. “He’s just…this is good for him. For his music.”
“I’m sure,” Harriet said. Her tone was neutral. It annoyed Dani anyway.
She turned back to Megan, needing to look at something that didn’t make her stomach feel weird.
“How’s your leg?” she asked. “From earlier.”
Megan blinked. “Oh. It’s fine.” She shifted her weight as if testing it. “Lara taped me up. I’m, like, ninety-five percent.”
“You were limping,” Dani said, frowning.
“Only a little,” Megan said. “I’ll ice it when I get home. Promise.”
Dani opened her mouth to protest and caught Harriet watching her with an amused, knowing expression.
“What?” Dani said defensively.
“Nothing,” Harriet said. “Just clocking your mum voice. It’s cute.”
“That’s my boss voice,” Dani corrected. “She’s on my tour. I need her legs functional.”
“And we’re grateful for your constant concern,” Yoonchae said, smirking. “It’s like having AppleCare but for knees.”
Megan hid a smile behind her drink.
Dani felt her face heat, the same way it did when Sophia caught her caring too obviously. “I’m not…okay, whatever.”
“You are,” Yoonchae said. “You adopt everyone and then panic if we so much as sneeze near a flight of stairs.”
“You dance near a flight of stairs,” Dani argued. “And you’re all menaces.”
Harriet chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Well, I, for one, feel much safer knowing Daniela Avanzini is protecting everyone’s joints.”
“You’re making fun of me,” Dani said.
“Little bit,” Harriet agreed. “You can take it.”
Megan’s gaze ping-ponged between them, something thoughtful in her eyes.
Dani’s phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down.
My baby
Where’d you go?
By the pool. Needed water.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then:
Come meet Rico, he produced that track I showed you last week. He’s dope.
Dani stared at the message.
“Everything okay?” Megan asked softly.
“Yeah,” Dani said, then winced at how unconvincing it sounded. “He just…wants me to meet someone.”
Harriet tipped her head, studying her. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you know.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Dani said, a little sharper than she meant to. “Of course I want to.”
“Want to meet his people,” Harriet said mildly. “Not the same thing as following him around like an unpaid publicist.”
Dani’s spine stiffened. “He’s supporting my tour.”
“And you’re supporting his entire brand,” Harriet said, one brow arched. “Seems like a fair trade.”
It wasn’t hostile. If anything, it sounded like someone pointing out that the sky was blue. That made it worse.
“Okay, wow, we just met,” Dani said. “You don’t know anything about our relationship.”
“True,” Harriet said. “I know what it looks like from here, though.”
Megan shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe we should…”
“No, it’s fine,” Dani said quickly, forcing her shoulders to relax. “I’m not…look, Jonah’s great, okay? He’s… he gets it. This world. The pressure. He’s really good to me.”
She heard the faint plea in her own voice and hated it.
Harriet’s expression softened a fraction. “If he’s good to you,” she said quietly, “that’s what matters.”
“He is,” Dani insisted. “He…he came to rehearsals today even though he had studio. He wanted to see the new choreo.”
Harriet hummed.
“We have a good thing,” Dani said, more to herself than anyone else. “We’re… in love.”
The words felt familiar, like a favourite lyric. She held onto them.
“Then I’m happy for you,” Harriet said simply.
Dani exhaled, tension easing.
Megan was watching her with an unreadable look.
“I should go find him,” Dani said, suddenly desperate to prove something she couldn’t quite name. “But you” she pointed at Megan “don’t stay too late, okay? We’re back at the studio at nine.”
Megan gave a crooked little salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And text me when you get home,” Dani said, then realized what she’d said and winced. “I mean…just…so I know you didn’t, like, fall into the pool or something.”
“Wow,” Yoonchae said. “You are everyone’s mom.”
Megan’s smile softened. “I’ll text you,” she said. “Promise.”
Harriet’s gaze flicked between them, something wry in her eyes, like she was watching a show and had just guessed the twist before everyone else.
Dani ignored it. She drained the last of her sparkling water and set the glass on a nearby ledge.
“Nice meeting you, Harriet,” she said, polite again.
“Likewise,” Harriet said. “Don’t work them too hard, yeah? I need them alive when you come to London so I can drag them to a proper pub.”
“You’re not allowed to steal my dancers,” Dani said.
Harriet grinned. “We’ll see.”
Dani turned away before she could say something dumb, heading back toward the bright knot of bodies where Jonah was.
As she walked, she felt Megan’s gaze on her back, hot as if it were actual light.
Halfway across the patio, Jonah spotted her and waved her over without breaking his sentence. “There she is,” he said to Rico-or-whatever-his-name-was. “Babe, tell him about that hook idea you had.”
Dani slid into his side, smile snapping back into place. “Which one?” she asked, letting the familiar rhythm of shop talk take over.
Still, as the conversation ebbed and flowed, half of her attention drifted back to the far end of the pool.
From here, Megan was just a silhouette, standing close to Harriet, head tipped up to hear her better over the music. They looked like they were in their own little orbit. Yoonchae had disappeared, probably to raid the snack table.
The sensation in Dani’s chest intensified, restless, tight, a little panicky.
She told herself it was worry. Megan was only twenty. Harriet was… what, mid-thirties? Grown. Worldly. English.
She’d seen those dynamics before. Older queer woman, younger baby bisexual, too much charm, not enough caution. It wasn’t always bad. Sometimes it was sweet. Sometimes it was messy.
It was none of her business.
Jonah nudged her, asking a question about tempo. Dani forced herself to focus, to answer, to laugh at the right beats.
The night slid on.
People got drunker, looser. Someone did, in fact, jump into the pool fully clothed. Maxamillion filmed it all, whooping like a ringmaster.
Dani’s feet hurt in a way rehearsal never made them hurt. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d told someone, “Yeah, the U.S. dates start in four weeks, we’re so excited.”
Every so often, she’d glance toward Megan and find her still there with Harriet, bodies angled toward each other, conversation seemingly deepening. At one point, Harriet put a warm-looking hand on Megan’s arm as she laughed. Megan’s eyes went soft, her smile more shy, less bright.
Dani’s stomach did something weird.
Midnight, or whatever passed for it in LA, time melting under neon, crept closer. Eventually, she saw Megan’s shoulders sag in that particular way that meant I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to be rude.
A few minutes later, she watched Megan and Yoonchae say their goodbyes. Harriet kissed Megan’s cheek, quick and easy. Megan went pink from her ears down.
Dani’s heart kicked.
Then they were gone, swallowed by the moving bodies.
Dani looked down at her phone, thumb hovering over Megan’s contact.
The last text thread was: you left your hoodie I’ll bring it tmw thank uuu
She imagined typing, You home yet? Then imagined Megan seeing it, rolling her eyes. Being annoyed. Or worse reading too much into it.
Jonah’s arm slipped around her waist. “You good?” he asked. “You look spaced.”
“Just tired,” she said, sliding her phone back into her bag. “Long day.”
He kissed her temple, quick, already looking over her shoulder. “We can bounce soon. Max wants to do one more bit for the vlog, then we’re good. This was big, babe. People were really vibing.”
“That’s great,” she said.
She meant it. She was happy for him. She was.
So why did the image of Megan laughing at something Harriet had said keep replaying behind her eyes?
Megan and Yoonchae waited for their rideshare near the long, winding driveway, party noise muffled by distance. Crickets scratched in the bushes like somebody had left a white-noise machine on nature mode.
“I can’t believe you flirted with a grown-ass radio presenter,” Yoonchae said, arms crossed over her baby-blue cardigan.
“I did not,” Megan said, mortified. “She flirted with me. I just… stood there.”
“You did that thing where you kept touching your hair,” Yoonchae said. “You only do that when you like someone.”
“I touched my hair because it was in my face.”
“Mhm.” Yoonchae squinted at her. “You know she’s, like, sixteen years older than you, right?”
“I know,” Megan said, heat creeping up her neck. “I wasn’t…I’m not…I just think she’s cool. She’s on the radio. She interviewed Ariana once.”
“And now she’s telling you about Ofcom regulations,” Yoonchae said. “Romantic.”
Megan groaned. “You’re unbearable.”
Yoonchae’s expression softened. “She was nice, though,” she said. “And she asked how old you were before she really turned it on. Respect.”
“Turned what on? There was nothing on.” Megan’s heart stuttered as she remembered Harriet’s hand on her forearm, the way her eyes had warmed when she’d said, “Dance for a living, huh? Brave girl.”
“Sure,” Yoonchae said. “You gonna follow her on Instagram?”
Megan hesitated. “Is that weird?”
“Not if you don’t, like, send her a four-page DM about your feelings,” Yoonchae said. “Just follow. She’ll know what it is.”
“What what is?”
“A crush,” Yoonchae sing-songed.
Megan swatted at her. “Stop.”
Their car pulled up. As they climbed in, Megan’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number
Lovely to meet you tonight, Megan. Harriet x
Megan stared.
“How did she get my number?” she whispered.
“Lara,” Yoonchae said immediately. “I saw them talking.”
Megan’s stomach swooped. “Oh my God.”
“You gonna reply?” Yoonchae asked.
Megan chewed her lip, then typed
you too!! hope your soundboard behaves better this week haha
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then.
Ha! No promises. Come say hi when you’re in London for the tour. I’ll make sure the right track plays x
Megan’s heart glitched. She sent back a smiling emoji because she couldn’t think of anything clever.
The car pulled away from the chaos of Maxamillion’s house, city lights stretching ahead.
In another part of the hills, Dani finally peeled off her heels and flopped facedown on her couch, phone buzzing somewhere in her bag.
By the time she fished it out, an hour later, there was a text from Megan.
Megan
home! didn’t fall in the pool. see you at 9 xx
Dani stared at the two little x’s.
Her chest unclenched in a way that had nothing to do with Jonah’s arm around her, his soft snore next to her on the bed.
She typed back before she could overthink it:
good. sleep. we have a long day tmrw :)
She hovered, then added another x. Deleted it. Added a smiley instead.
She set the phone down, staring at the ceiling.
She was in love with Jonah. That was the story. That was the song everyone knew. It was catchy. It made sense.
The feeling twisting somewhere behind her ribs, sharp when Harriet had smiled at Megan, soft when Megan’s “see you at 9” popped up on her screen, was just… something else.
Protectiveness. Tour stress. The weird intimacy of rehearsal bleeding into real life.
It had to be.
Dani closed her eyes, willing her brain to shut up. Tomorrow there would be choreo to fix, lighting cues to run, outfits to test. Real things. Important things.
And Megan would be there, exactly two counts behind her, where she always was.
Whatever this was, it could wait.
For now, she let the image of Megan at the pool, hair down, eyes bright, laughing at something only half-heard, float to the surface.
She told herself it was because Megan was happy. Because her dancers deserved good nights too.
She didn’t let herself sit with the tiniest, strangest thought that tugged at the edge of her mind, very quiet and very persistent.
I didn’t like watching someone else make her laugh.