Half Wild, Half Yours

Tone Deaf Teddy

Ellie had left for work just after lunch, stealing one of my scrunchies and humming No Name under her breath like she hadn’t just spent the night with their drummer. Meanwhile, I was as free as a bird with nowhere to be and no weed to trim. So I did the only thing that made sense—I laced up my boots, packed up Tyler, and headed out to a trail I’d saved on t****k weeks ago.

And for once, the internet didn’t lie.

A winding path carved through the trees like a secret. Wildflowers nodded in the breeze. Tyler trotted ahead of me, tail waving like a golden flag. The sun filtered through the canopy, and I swear for a second, I forgot about everything—Teddy, Toronto, the way my stomach flipped every time I thought about that video of us on stage.

I took a photo at the overlook—me with my back to the camera, arms out, the whole “nature goddess at golden hour” vibe in full effect. I added it to my feed with a caption that read:

“Not lost. Just wild.”

A few likes popped in instantly, followed by the usual wave of DMs I didn’t open. I swiped through the notifications until one caught my eye.

@tonedefteddy

I froze. Blinked. Clicked.

His profile was private, of course. A profile picture of him half-lit in concert lighting, hair messy, mouth open mid-verse. Two mutual followers. No bio. Just a “Follow Back” button taunting me.

I sighed dramatically into the forest air. “You had one job, Teddy. Let me snoop.” I clicked the follow back button.

The screen stayed still, waiting for approval, but the tiny flutter in my chest had already been set loose.

Back at the van, I made Tyler a bowl of water and flopped onto my bed with my phone. It was late afternoon and the sun had started to cast lazy shadows across the floor. I stared at the ceiling for a beat before opening my contacts and tapping Mom.

She answered on the third ring. “Bluebird! You’re alive!”

I smiled, instantly soothed by the sound of her voice. “Barely. I almost got attacked by a mountain squirrel.”

“Was he cute?”

“No, he had bad energy. Like a squirrel that would definitely talk during movies.”

She laughed. “Are you still in Oregon?”

“Yeah. I wrapped up the farm job yesterday. Just vibing now.”

“Want me to grab your dad?”

“Actually, yeah. FaceTime?”

I hung up and redialed, this time with video. My mom’s face lit up the screen, and a second later my dad squeezed in behind her, cheeks pink from whatever yard project he’d just abandoned to say hi.

They asked about the usual—weather, Tyler, what the van needed. I told them about the show, the karaoke bar, the insane rush of singing in front of a crowd again. I told them about the hike, about Ellie and her drummer crush.

And then I paused.

“There’s this guy…” I started.

My mom’s eyes narrowed, but she was smiling. “Oh?”

“His name’s Teddy. He’s the lead singer of the band I sang with. He, um… asked me to come on tour with them.”

Dead. Silence.

Then my mom said gently, “And what did you say?”

“I panicked. I said nothing. I ran.”

She laughed. “Sounds about right.”

My dad chuckled too. “Well, is he a serial killer?”

“No,” I said with a smirk. “He’s annoyingly charming.”

“Then I say,” Mom said, “maybe don’t lead with fear this time. Try leading with your heart.”

And just like that, I remembered why I always called her when I didn’t know what to do.

When we hung up, I stared at my phone. The screen reflected back my own wide eyes, messy hair, and sun-kissed cheeks. I exhaled and scrolled through i********:.

I watched the screen like it owed me something—like maybe, if I stared long enough, it would crack open and spill his secrets. Nothing. Just “Follow Requested.”

I locked my phone and tossed it beside me on the passenger seat of the van, annoyed at how much power a little request button seemed to hold. I turned up the music, trying to shift my focus to the mountain air and the smell of pine needles clinging to my clothes. Tyler snoozed in a sunbeam like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Five minutes passed. Then seven. Then ten.

My phone buzzed.

@tonedefteddy accepted your request.

Another buzz. A message.

tonedefteddy: so you do stalk.

was starting to worry I imagined the whole stage thing.

I laughed, low and quiet. Then stared at the message like it might explode if I touched it wrong.

me: guilty. but I’ve seen the video—pretty sure I was the imaginary one.

nice username btw. self-aware is sexy.

Three dots. He was typing. Then they vanished.

C’mon, I thought. Don’t leave me hanging.

The dots returned.

tonedefteddy: self-aware and wildly available.

say the word and I’ll give you the private concert experience.

just you, me, your stage hazard.

I bit my lip, shaking my head like that would somehow contain the grin spreading across my face. Dammit.

I didn’t answer. Not yet. I let it hang there, flirt and all.

⸻

Ellie’s giant clawfoot tub was the kind of luxury that made you believe you were born in the wrong era. Big enough to swim laps in, warm enough to melt your bones, and currently drowning in bubble bath foam and the scent of something citrusy and suspiciously expensive.

We were both sunk deep into the suds in our bikinis, mud masks cracking on our cheeks, clinking glasses of rosé like suburban housewives with secrets. Tyler lay curled up on the bath mat like the fluffy little lifeguard he thought he was, supervising the situation.

“So,” Ellie said, drawing out the word as she adjusted her bun and reached for a chocolate truffle from the side table, “are you doing this for the clout or for a certain sexy, stage-hogging, guitar-thrusting someone?”

I laughed into my wineglass. “It’s not clout if it’s accidental. And he’s more of a mic-hogger, thank you very much.”

Ellie smirked, her mask pulling at the corners of her mouth. “So that’s a yes to the sexy someone?”

“I said I’m going on tour,” I corrected, feigning an air of dignity while bubbles slid off my shoulder. “That’s it.”

“That’s not it,” she sang. “You’re about to get up close and very personal with Mr. Tonedefteddy. This isn’t a fling, Blue. This is tour bus territory. That’s intimacy. That’s socks-on-the-floor and who-used-all-the-dry-shampoo levels of intimacy.”

I groaned. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I love you,” she said, all sweet and smug, “and also because I am so living vicariously through this entire chaos-romance moment. It’s like fanfic, but better. You’re the lead.”

I sank lower into the bubbles. “I’m not doing this just for him. I mean, okay, yes, he’s hot, and he sings like he could ruin my life and make me thank him for it. But I also happen to like the music. And the road. And maybe—just maybe—I want to do something that doesn’t have a map this time.”

Ellie clinked her glass against mine, the bubbles between us fizzing like a cheer squad. “To heart-led detours.”

“To questionable decisions,” I grinned.

“To stage hazards with killer jawlines.”

We both laughed, tipping our glasses back, the kind of laugh that starts in your throat and ends in your ribs. The kind you only have with someone who’s known every version of you.

“Just promise me,” Ellie said, a little more seriously, “if this gets messy, you’ll tell me. Even if it’s just a weird text in the middle of nowhere.”

“I promise,” I said, and meant it.

Tyler let out a dramatic sigh and flopped over onto his side.

Ellie pointed. “Even your dog knows you’re in too deep.”

I leaned back, let the warm water wash over me, and smiled like someone who maybe was.