Half Wild, Half Yours

In My Feels, On the Setlist - Teddy POV

I was trying to focus. Really. Brody had the whiteboard out, and Thomas was lounging on the motel couch, drumsticks tapping against his knee as we argued over what songs to open with tonight.

“Blue should be here,” I said, scrolling through our setlist on my phone. “We don’t even know what she’s comfortable singing yet.”

“She said she’d meet us before soundcheck,” Brody offered.

“Still,” I muttered, thumb still swiping aimlessly. “We could’ve built in some harmonies for her—”

Ding.

A new t****k notification lit up my screen.

@wanderwithblue just posted a new video: Life on tour with No Name starts now…

My thumb flew faster than my thoughts. I tapped the alert, and suddenly Blue’s face was filling the screen, the ocean sparkling behind her, curls wild in the wind. She talked about the shows, gave the band a shoutout, dropped the tour schedule with a flirty little smile, and then—of course—Tyler made a cameo. Instant charm overload.

“Yo,” I said, not even bothering to hide my grin. “Check this out.”

Brody leaned over first, then Thomas craned his neck. By the time the video ended, they both gave me a round of high-fives.

“Dude, she’s a natural,” Brody said, cracking open a soda. “We’re about to be famous famous.”

“I still can’t believe she’s got, what, like—over two million followers?” Thomas said, eyebrows raised. “How did we not know that?”

“Because she doesn’t act like it,” I said, still watching the video on loop like a weirdo.

“She’s not exactly our vibe,” Brody added. “But somehow, it still fits. Like… we’re the leather jacket and she’s the vintage fringe.”

“That makes no sense,” Thomas said.

“It kinda does,” I muttered.

My phone lit up again.

Instagram: @wanderwithblue just posted a new photo.

I tilted the screen slightly away, trying to keep it subtle. Too late.

“Why do you have post alerts on?” Thomas asked, catching the full view of the screen and smirking like a devil. “You’re not even being slick, bro.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, locking the screen.

“Mmhmm,” he said. “That post gave you heart eyes.”

“You would know,” I shot back. “Considering how fast you fly to your phone every time a certain spicy Spanish queen sends a text.”

Thomas’s smirk disappeared. “That’s different.”

“It’s not,” Brody chimed in with a grin. “But it’s cute.”

Thomas tossed a pillow at him. “Shut up.”

We all laughed, but then Brody leaned back and said more seriously, “Honestly, though? Blue’s good for us. She makes us look like we have our lives together.”

“She makes you look like that,” I said. “She makes me feel like I’m trying not to blow it.”

They both went quiet for a second.

Then Thomas said, “Then don’t blow it.”

Brody nodded. “She’s cool as hell, man. Real. And she’s not just good for the band. She’s good for you.”

I didn’t say anything right away. Just let it sink in. They were right—and I hated how right they were. She made everything feel a little brighter, a little less complicated. Even when it was.

I unlocked my phone again, thumb hovering over her latest t****k. I tapped the heart, then watched it again. And again.

Then I jumped over to i********:.

There she was, standing barefoot in the sand in this flowy cream-colored outfit, all ruffles and sunshine and pure boho magic. Her curls wild. Her smile smug. The caption?

“sunlit + slightly salty // catch me where the wifi’s weak but the vibes are strong. #beachbabeontherun #wanderwithblue #tonedefteddystourbusmate?”

I laughed. Of course she did.

I double-tapped to like it and typed out a comment:

tonedefteddy: beach goddess AND my tourmate? unfair. save a seat in the sand for me.

A minute later and a reply came in:

wanderwithblue: @tonedefteddy seat saved. you better bring snacks.

turned to the guys and stood up, grabbing my keys. “Alright, change of plans.”

Thomas raised a brow. “Where are we going?”

I grinned. “The beach.”

Brody blinked. “Why?”

“Because I know someone who’s already there,” I said, tossing my hoodie over my shoulder. “And she just invited half the world to our show. We should probably say thank you.”

Thomas groaned but stood. “You’re lucky she’s hot.”

I didn’t disagree.

Not even a little.

⸻

By the time we made it to the beach, the sun was sinking into the horizon, and everything was dipped in that honey-colored glow that makes you feel like something good’s about to happen.

Brody had snacks. Thomas had drinks. I had the bottle of Crown Apple under one arm and Blue on my mind. Classic.

“I come bearing offerings,” I called out, spotting her perched on the back bumper of her van, glowing like the goddamn muse she is.

She hopped down barefoot, still in that ridiculous little ruffled outfit that made it hard to think straight. Beach hair, freckles, sun-warmed skin—and I was supposed to focus on music?

“Only the best for our star guest,” I said, holding up the bottle with a grin.

She gave me a look that hit somewhere just beneath my ribs. “You brought the goods.”

Tyler came bounding up like we were old friends, and Thomas knelt down to greet him like he was another band member. Honestly, he kind of was.

“Okay but seriously, is he going to start demanding billing on the posters?” Brody joked, flopping onto the beach blanket Blue had already spread out like she knew we’d show.

“If he starts singing harmonies, we’re done for,” I said, passing around plastic cups as Blue poured whiskey with the kind of casual flair that made it feel like this was something we did every night.

“To new music and reckless decisions,” she said, lifting her glass.

I lifted mine back, trying not to stare at her too long. “Hell yeah.”

Once we were all situated—drinks in hand, snacks scattered, Tyler acting like our unbothered chaperone—we dove into the setlist talk. It always felt good, planning shows. Like building something out of thin air and hope.

We talked about keeping Goodluck Babe, which made Brody and Thomas nod, and made me glance sideways at Blue. Her smile told me she was in. That one meant something.

Then she brought up Lola Young and Billie Eilish, and I swear I could watch her talk music all day.

“She’s underrated,” she said about Lola. “That kind of angsty honesty? Total vibe.”

“You’ve got the range for it,” I said before I could think twice. Her blush was worth it.

Thomas perked up. “Actually, can we hear more of your range? I mean—we’ve heard you kill it with us, but what else is hiding in there?”

Blue grinned, setting her cup down. “Alright. One sec.”

She disappeared into her van and came back cradling an acoustic guitar like it was part of her. The second she settled cross-legged on the blanket and adjusted the strap, I was done for.

“She really does this,” Brody murmured beside me, and I just nodded, too captivated to answer.

Her fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, soft but steady. Then her voice came in, smoky and raw, as she sang:

‘Cause I’m too messy, and then I’m too f*****g clean

You told me, “Get a job”, then you ask where the hell I’ve been

And I’m too perfect ‘til I open my big mouth

I want to be me, is that not allowed?’

She was magnetic.

I watched the way her face changed when she sang—more open, more real, almost like she forgot we were there. She looked beautiful like that. Not just because of the freckles and the sun and the soft golden light. But because of the way she felt everything she was singing.

It hit me, quick and clean: we were all falling for her in some way. Even Brody and Thomas, though I knew their affection wasn’t romantic. She had this gravity about her. You just couldn’t help but orbit her.

Blue laughed nervously, brushing her hair behind one ear. “Okay, don’t all clap at once.”

That broke the trance. Brody whooped. Thomas clapped with his cup still in hand and nearly spilled whiskey on his jeans. I just grinned like an i***t and said, “You’re gonna ruin us, you know that?”

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing like she couldn’t decide if I was teasing or serious. Joke’s on her—I wasn’t sure either.

We started running through potential originals next. I mentioned Sad Girls Make Great DJs just to see if she’d laugh. She didn’t disappoint.

“You’re absolutely not changing that title,” she said, trying not to choke on a gummy worm.

I couldn’t stop grinning.

It felt easy, all of it. Sitting there on the beach with these guys who were more like brothers, with her—this sun-drenched wildcard of a woman who showed up out of nowhere and now felt like the missing piece we didn’t know we needed.

“Okay,” Blue said, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back on her hands. “I have to ask—what is your actual vibe?”

“What, like as people or musicians?” Brody asked with a grin.

“Both.”

Thomas answered first. “Early 2000s grunge. Like if Nirvana and Paramore had an emotionally unavailable baby who listened to The Used in the shower.”

I cracked up. “Not wrong.”

“It’s like grunge, but not full emo,” Brody added. “We leave room for the girls who had sharp eyeliner and trauma but also went to prom.”

Blue laughed, but there was something behind it. A flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “Guess I’m a little off-brand, then.”

That made me sit up. “What do you mean?”

She glanced at Tyler, who had fully passed out in the sand next to her. “I just mean—I’m all sunshine and moonlight and boho sweaters. My voice doesn’t growl. I wear too much turquoise. And I can’t exactly keep doing temp jobs while we’re on the move. Nomadly doesn’t really work when you’re city-hopping every other day. So I have to rely on content to bring in money. Sponsored stuff, my followers, brand partnerships when I can get them. It’s… I don’t have cash on hand to change my wardrobe-not very grunge.”

I could tell she didn’t say it for sympathy. Just laid it out there. Answering the question I never asked—how do you afford to do this? But it was more than that. She was telling us she felt like an outsider. That maybe we’d regret letting her in.

I didn’t.

Before I could say anything, Brody leaned forward and looked her dead in the eyes. “Your style’s great. Seriously. You add something. Like—texture. A counterpoint.”

“Yeah,” Thomas chimed in. “You’re not a copy of us. You’re your own thing. That’s what makes it work.”

Blue blinked a few times, like she wasn’t sure if we were serious or just being nice. Then she smiled. That soft kind that starts slow and takes over her whole face.

And maybe it was the whiskey, or the way her freckles caught the firelight, but damn—I wanted to see that smile again. As many times as I could.

“Thanks,” she said. Quiet but sincere.

I nudged her foot with mine. “Besides, someone’s gotta class us up. You’ve seen the way Thomas dresses.”

“Hey!” Thomas protested, tossing a handful of trail mix at me. It hit my shirt. Tyler lifted his head, huffed, and laid back down like he was over our s**t.