STUCK IN HER

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒; 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 “f**k! Do we really have to start from the top?” Jake complained, dropping his hands to his sides. “That’s the fifth time you’ve complained, Jake. What the f**k is wrong with you?” Rosella fired back. Ethan sighed, adjusting the guitar resting against his knee. “Guys, that’s the wrong direction we’re taking, okay? Besides, it’s just singing. This is our eighth piece, and we can’t back down now. Come on.” “Yeah, Eth’s right, guys,” Dwane agreed, his fingers still resting on the piano keys. Jake rolled his eyes. “I’m tired, man.” “You're always tired whenever we have to repeat a song,” Rosella muttered. Jake looked between them before finally standing. “I’m sorry, okay? I just—” He rubbed his face. “I’m close to hitting one million followers, and you guys want me sitting here repeating the same song for hours?” “That’s exactly why you should take this seriously,” Rosella replied. “You think those followers came from you sleeping?” Jake scoffed. “Whatever. I’m going home.” He grabbed his bag and walked away without another word. Dwane stared after him. “He didn't even apologize?” “He's ill-mannered,” Rosella replied. Ethan chuckled softly. “Leave him. He'll be back.” “You really think so?” Dwane asked. “I know so.” Rosella picked up her phone and glanced at the time. “Today's practice really ended badly.” “Don't beat yourself up, bro.” She gave Ethan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Get some rest.” “See you tomorrow.” “See ya.” Dwane waved before jogging after Rosella. “Wait up!” Ethan watched them disappear into the crowd before looking down at his guitar. For a moment, the noise of the street seemed to fade. Then his fingers moved across the strings. Music had always been easier for him than words. Maybe because music never asked where he came from. Ethan knew almost nothing about his birth. No parents. No family history. No answers. The only person who had ever really been there for him was the elderly woman who raised him. She had given him a home, food, and something he never realized he needed until she was gone—a reason to believe that he belonged somewhere. She died when Ethan was eighteen. After that, the streets became his second home. He still had a roof over his head, but most of his life happened outside it. The streets had taught him how to survive. Music had taught him how to live. And somewhere along the way, Ethan, Jake, Dwane, and Rosella had turned their little street performances into something much bigger. Ethan sang. Jake rapped. Dwane played the piano and backed Ethan's vocals. And Rosella handled their videos, filming their performances and taking them live whenever the opportunity came. Their posts spread quickly. One video became ten. Ten became hundreds. Soon, people around the neighborhood knew their names. Then people outside the neighborhood started recognizing them too. They weren't celebrities—not yet. But they were getting close. Especially Ethan. Gifted, passionate, and naturally charismatic, he had become the face of their little group. And despite everything life had taken from him, he remained the one who cared the most about keeping them together. He looked down at his phone. Another notification. Another follower. Ethan smiled. Then a new comment caught his attention. “Who's the guy with the guitar? 😍” He laughed under his breath. “Seriously?” Across town, someone else was watching the same video. Her name was Britannia. An upcoming teenage fashion influencer with a growing audience of her own. She had stumbled across the group a few weeks ago. At first, she liked their music. Then she noticed Ethan. And now, every time their videos appeared on her feed, she watched a little longer than she intended to. She smiled at the screen. “Ethan…” She quickly locked her phone. Nobody needed to know about her little crush. Not yet.