Not An Ordinary Love Song

Chapter Seven : Beach Party

Ariana still couldn’t sleep that night.

Not because of fear.

Because of a feeling she didn’t know what to name.

She lay on her bed, phone resting on her chest, replaying the café scene in her mind—the way the music wrapped around the room, the way Aston’s voice had dipped into something tender, the way he had looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

It was ridiculous.

She barely knew him.

Ariana picked up her phone and typed:

Jules, I think I have that spark right now.

The reply came not long after.

As you always have.

Ariana rolled onto her back, hugging her pillow, smiling into the quiet of her room. After such an exhausting day, it felt comforting to have someone who give her sparks—even if they were just imaginations for now.

Still, reality crept in.

His world and hers were like the moon and the earth. Completely different orbits.

She preferred to stay away from the spotlight. She didn’t mind stepping into it once in a while—but not every single day.

Too much attention would overwhelm her.

How did they--the celebrity--even live like that?

Well, she supposed they were professionals. It was their job. Fame came with responsibility—and side effects.

Just imagine not being able to eat out in peace because people would swarm around you.

That sounded terrifying.

Be careful with big celebrities…

She remembered what Willy had once told her.

“Alright,” she murmured to herself, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Calm down. I’m sleeping until the sun’s up.”

That was the plan.

It failed.

She woke up at five in the morning, wide awake and completely unable to fall back asleep.

“Oh, crap,” she muttered.

After tossing around for a while, she finally gave up.

“Okay. Let’s run.”

The morning jog cleared her head. She ran at a steady pace for twenty minutes, lungs burning pleasantly, thoughts finally quieting down. Hunger hit her the moment she slowed to a walk.

She headed toward Walter Lakeside to grab something to eat.

That’s when she saw a familiar face.

“Ari! Hey—come here!”

Luca.

She remembered his name now—Aston’s bandmate. He waved at her enthusiastically, motioning for her to come closer. Ariana slowed her steps.

I thought they didn’t want to be seen with civilians in public…

“You’re going to be our designer,” Luca said casually, as if reading her mind. “So I think it’s fine if we’re seen together.”

She laughed softly. “Fair point.”

He gestured to the space around them. “You know this exact spot? The article—”

“Don’t get me started,” Luca cut in, wagging a finger playfully in front of her face. “Whatever the article said—even if our pictures get taken today—I’ll just tell everyone you’re on our team. What’s so wrong about being close to a coworker?”

“Okay,” Ariana said, smiling. Luca really was different—less cautious, more free-spirited. “Honestly, I don’t really care.”

Luca grinned, "That's my girl," then laughed. The conversation flowed easily after that, light and comfortable, as if they’d known each other longer than they actually had.

Neither of them noticed the car parked not far away.

Inside it, Aston sat behind the wheel, with Ali and Henry beside him. They were joking around, laughing loudly—until Aston’s gaze drifted toward the lakeside path.

He froze.

Luca.

And Ariana.

“There he is,” Ali said slowly, noticing the same thing.

Aston’s eyes narrowed.

Why is she laughing like that?

Heat rose unexpectedly in his chest. The feeling startled him.

Jealousy?

Without thinking, Aston slammed his palm against the horn.

The car blared loudly, echoing across the lakeside, drawing the attention of nearby visitors—including Ariana and Luca.

“Are you crazy?” Henry hissed, while Ali grabbed Aston’s arm. “What are you doing?”

Aston ignored them.

Moments later, Ariana and Luca walked over. Luca knocked on the window. Aston rolled it down.

“You can’t be seen with just some woman out here,” Aston said flatly.

“She’s going to be our designer,” Luca replied

“Relax.”

Aston ignored him and turned to Ariana, his expression oddly sour.

“Fine. We’re going to a beach party. Since you’re our designer now, why don’t you come with us?”

The words sounded sharper than he intended.

To everyone’s surprise—including his own—Ariana said, “Sure.”

The car went silent.

“This is the weekend, after all,” she added, trying to sound casual. In truth, it took all her courage to agree. She knew it would drain her social energy this weekend.

But curiosity filled her tank.

She wanted to know—just once—what famous people did on their weekends.

Luca, Ali, and Henry all turned to Aston at the same time. Their looks clearly said: Now she’s your responsibility.

Aston swallowed.

And just like that, Ariana’s quiet Saturday morning took an unexpected turn.

After a quick breakfast, they split into three cars—clearly some kind of strategy had been arranged.

Ali drove with Luca.

Andrew took the road assistant.

And Ariana ended up in Aston’s car.

The drive took nearly five hours, the city thinning into open roads before finally giving way to bright blue water and white sand by midday. The beach shimmered under the sun, already lively with people setting up for the party.

A knock sounded on Aston’s window.

Andrew stood there with a paper bag in hand. He passed it to Ariana.

“You can change into this,” he said.

Ariana peeked inside and slowly pulled out what's inside it.

A leotard.

And a short beach skirt.

Her mouth fell open.

“This is a beach party,” Andrew said lightly. “Let’s make you fit in.”

Ariana stared at the outfit, then back at him. She’d worn leotards plenty of times for work—but here? In front of people she barely knew in person? She suddenly felt like she’d stepped into the wrong movie, like a quiet indie character dropped into a loud rock band scene.

“Uh… okay,” she said weakly.

“There’s a changing room over there,” Andrew added. “The stylist will be waiting for you.”

Ariana nodded and stepped out of the car, heart thumping. Aston met her eyes for a second, reading the uncertainty on her face.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said quietly, more like sympathy. He'd never think Ariana would agree to come.

That helped more than she expected.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied, offering a small smile before heading toward the changing room.

An hour later, Ariana stepped back out.

The outfit was… better than she’d imagined. The leotard was softened by a long, sheer beach wrap layered over the mini skirt. The stylist had kept her makeup light and fresh. Sunglasses hid her eyes, and a wide-brimmed hat gave her a sense of shelter.

Andrew escorted her to a shaded hut near the edge of the beach. A few members of the band’s management team were already there.

“You can stay here while the party’s going on,” he said. “I’m responsible for you today, okay? Please don’t wander off.”

Ariana nodded. “I won’t.”

Once Andrew left to greet some people in the crowd, Ariana sat quietly, watching the band do their soundcheck. They looked different out here—looser, brighter, like the ocean had softened their edges.

Aston glanced her way once.

Just once.

Their eyes met across the space.

Ariana looked down, suddenly shy.

The sun dipped lower without her noticing. The air grew warmer, heavier. Someone came over and tried to strike up a conversation, asking for her number. Ariana smiled awkwardly and excused herself, heart pounding.

She reached for a nearby drink without thinking and took a sip.

It burned.

She coughed softly, throat on fire. Frowning, she grabbed another glass, trying to wash the taste away—only to feel another harsh sting.

“Water,” someone said, handing her a bottle.

She drank gratefully.

A moment later, the world tilted.

The lights blurred. The sounds doubled. Her heart began to race.

Oh no.

Her instincts kicked in before her thoughts could catch up. She stumbled back, hands lifting defensively.

“Ariana,” a voice said.

It sounded like Andrew.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

She slapped blindly, panic rising in her chest. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey—hey, it’s me,” Andrew said quickly. “It’s Andrew. You’re okay.”

“WHO ARE YOU?” she cried, fear spilling over.

“HELP ME!”

“Keep your hands off her.”

That voice.

Aston.

Or is it just sounded like him.

Relief washed through her so suddenly her knees nearly gave out. The world went soft around the edges as she sagged, her strength slipping away.

“It’s okay,” he said again, gently, stepping closer.

“You’re safe.”

She felt arms lift her—careful, steady. The warmth around her felt like a blanket, like being held somewhere that couldn’t hurt her.

“This is warm…” she murmured, drifting in and out of focus.

______

Aston had just finished the last song when Andrew hurried over to him.

“Ariana—something’s wrong,” Andrew said quietly. “I went to check on her and saw someone hand her a drink. I stopped it, but she’s not okay.”

Aston didn’t hesitate. He moved through the crowd, the party noise fading into nothing as soon as he saw her.

She was disoriented, frightened, clinging to what little sense of safety she had left.

Aston stepped in front of her without thinking. “She’s with us,” he said firmly. “Please leave.”

Andrew backed him up, voice strong enough to draw attention. The crowd shifted, giving them space.

When Ariana looked up again, her unfocused eyes found Aston.

“Aston?” she whispered.

“I’m here,” he said softly, crouching in front of her so she could see him clearly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Her shoulders relaxed at the sound of his voice. Whatever fear had been gripping her loosened, just enough for her to breathe again.

They brought her back to the shaded hut. Someone placed a light blanket around her shoulders. Aston stayed close, kneeling beside her, offering water, keeping his voice low and steady.

“Dont touch just anything,” he told her quietly. “Anything could just gotten spiked. Well, you're safe now.”

And for the first time since arriving at the beach, Ariana let herself believe him.