Sunlight streamed through the warped glass window of the abandoned club, cutting golden shafts across the worn-out leather couch. Jude stretched, her spine popping in protest.

"Ugh," she groaned, rubbing her neck. "I think I permanently fused with this couch."

Tommy smirked at her from his position on the couch. "Well, you're welcome for the luxury accommodations."

Jude rolled her eyes. "Yeah, remind me to thank you for getting us stuck in here."

"Oh, that hurts," he said, placing a hand to his heart. "Especially after I shared my emergency stash of stale crackers with you."

She pulled a face. "Emergency is the key word. They tasted like regret."

He grinned. "So… you're saying you've missed me?"

Jude gave him a sidelong glance, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Don't flatter yourself, Quincy. I missed not being glared at every time I picked up a guitar."

"You were writing angry songs about me. It was self-defence."

She blinked. "They weren't all about you."

He lifted a brow. "Liar Liar?"

"Okay," she admitted with a wry smile. "That one was... aggressively about you. But it's not like you didn't participate in it."

They sat in silence for a moment, broken only by the distant sound of a city waking up outside. Dust motes floated lazily through the sunlight between them.

Tommy was the one who broke the silence. "You know… last night was the first time in weeks we talked like we used to."

Jude nodded, tucking her knees up under her chin. "Yeah. I missed it. I missed you."

His eyes softened, but he stayed where he was. "Me too. I hated how things ended between us. Getting pulled from your album... it was the right call, but it sucked."

"I hated it too," she said, her voice lower. "But I didn't know how to talk to you without…" She trailed off.

He tilted his head. "Without what?"

Jude chewed her bottom lip. "Without feeling like I was standing on the edge of something too big. Like if I said the wrong thing, everything would fall apart."

Tommy stared at her for a long beat, and then said softly, "You're seventeen, Jude. And I'm-"

"Twenty-four," she cut in quickly. "I can do the math."

"It's not about the math," he replied, voice serious now. "It's about the world we live in. The label, the press, your family… we can't pretend that line doesn't exist."

Jude's gaze didn't flinch. "I'm not pretending. I just… I know what I feel. And I know I don't want to lose you again over something we're both too scared to say."

Tommy stood up and paced a little, running a hand through his hair. "You think I'm not scared? Jude, I care about you. Probably more than I should. But this… whatever this is - we have to be careful."

She stood too, arms crossed. "So you're saying you feel something. You just don't want to deal with it."

"I'm saying I don't want to mess you up."

"I'm already messed up. My feelings for you are messed up," she said with a laugh that caught in her throat. "But when you're around, it's like… I don't know. Like music makes sense again."

Tommy looked at her, really looked at her, and for a second, Jude thought he might walk away. Instead, he stepped closer.

"You make everything complicated, you know that?" he murmured.

"Yeah," she said. "But I make it sound good."

That made him laugh, the warm, deep kind she hadn't heard in weeks. "You really do."

They stood there in the morning light, inches apart, the silence between them louder than any song. It wasn't a kiss. It wasn't a confession. But it was something.

Jude tilted her head. "So… you gonna produce my next track or what?"

She would do her best to talk D into letting Tommy back on the album after her diva fit.

Tommy grinned. "Only if it's about someone else this time."

She smirked. "No promises."

A few hours later Spied and Jamie found them in a compromising position on the couch. Jude had some explaining to do and a boyfriend to break up with.

Jude barely stepped into the doors of G-Major before Sadie was in her face.

"You spent the night where? With who?" Sadie's eyes were practically bugging out of her head.

Jude side-stepped her older sister like a pro. "Chill, it wasn't like that. We got locked in an old club. It was dusty, depressing, and he's not that charming."

Tommy, walking behind her with a coffee and zero shame, gave Sadie a wink. "Thanks for the glowing review, Harrison."

Sadie crossed her arms. "You better be talking about the club, not my sister."

Tommy held up his hands. "Relax, Sadie. I spent the night on a hard couch. Believe me, I suffered."

Jude smirked. "You also drooled in your sleep. A lot."

Tommy shot her a sideways glance. "And you snore. Like a dying hedgehog."

"You're disgusting," she said, trying to fight the grin creeping across her face.

"Mutual feelings, Teenage Drama Queen."

Sadie made a gagging sound. "Okay, this - whatever this is - needs to go back in a vault. Preferably underwater. With sharks." Watching her ex-boyfriend flirt with her little sister weirded her out.

Darius Mills stood at his glass office window like some moody business overlord. As soon as he saw Tommy and Jude walking together, laughing, he buzzed his assistant.

"Send Quincy in."

Minutes later, Tommy stood across from Darius's desk. Jude lingered by the door, pretending to scroll through her phone but was clearly eavesdropping.

"You were pulled off Jude's album for a reason," Darius said, tapping his pen slowly. "So imagine my surprise when you stroll in here like we're all playing High School Musical: Grown Man Edition."

Tommy's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice cool. "Nothing happened. We got locked in a building. We talked. Made up. That's it."

"That's it?" Darius asked, unconvinced. "That better be it. Because the tabloids are already sniffing around, and if anyone even thinks you're crossing lines with my 17-year-old artist - especially one we just re-signed for two more albums - I'll bury you in legal tape and pop star tears."

Tommy's mouth twitched, but he nodded. "I get it. I'm not stupid."

"Debatable," Darius muttered.

Jude, unable to stay quiet, pushed open the door. "You don't get to treat him like he's guilty for something he didn't do. We were just talking. And I'm not exactly some clueless little girl."

Darius leaned back, sighing. "No, you're a brand. You think people care what really happened? All they'll see is a scandal waiting to erupt. Think about that before you go sneaking off to make mixtapes with your ex-producer in abandoned clubs."

Jude glared, but Tommy grabbed her arm gently. "He's not wrong. Let's not give them more to work with."

"Fine," Jude said through gritted teeth. "But I reserve the right to kill whoever snitched to you, D."

That night, Jude sat alone in the G-Major recording booth. The studio was quiet except for the soft buzz of the mixing board.

Tommy entered, watching her from the door.

"You're writing about me again, aren't you?"

Jude grinned without looking up. "If the scuffed-up Converse fits…"

He walked in, standing behind her chair. "You've got a way of turning every awkward moment into art. It's kind of unfair."

"I like unfair. It's more honest."

He leaned in slightly, just enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence.

"You scare me sometimes," he said quietly.

She finally looked at him. "Why?"

"Because you make me want things I probably shouldn't."

The air between them stretched like a guitar string on the verge of snapping.

She stood, close now, her voice soft but teasing. "Like writing another track together? You're right. That'd be dangerously productive."

He gave her a look - half amused, half tortured. "You are infuriating."

She smirked. "And yet, here you are."

Their eyes locked. A long pause. Then Jude stepped back, just enough.

"I'll let you produce the new song. But only if you stop being such a coward about us."

Tommy exhaled slowly. "And if I don't?"

She turned and walked to the door, tossing a line over her shoulder like a grenade.

"Then I'll write another song about you. And this time, I won't hold back."

Studio A, 11:14 PM

Tommy stood behind the glass, arms crossed, watching Jude through the sound booth window. She was wearing a faded hoodie, no makeup, bare feet tucked under her in the rolling chair, guitar balanced on her lap.

He'd seen her glammed up for industry parties, seen her break down in green rooms, but this? This was the version of Jude that wrecked him. No filter. Just fire.

She adjusted the mic stand. "You gonna keep staring, Quincy, or are we recording tonight?"

Tommy clicked the intercom button. "Just waiting for you to stop being difficult, Harrison."

She leaned in, voice syrupy sweet. "If I wasn't difficult, you'd be bored."

He shook his head, grinning despite himself. "True. You're a damn chaos gremlin."

"And you're a control freak with guitar-calloused fingers and a savior complex. What's your point?"

He blinked. That hit a little too close. "You done psychoanalyzing me, Freud?"

"Not even close."

They'd been at it for hours. The track - tentatively titled "Between the Lines" - was stripped-down, raw. Just Jude's voice, her guitar, and that intangible ache she bled into every note.

After her fifth take, Tommy stopped her through the mic. "You're holding back on the bridge."

She groaned. "Because I wrote it in, like, five minutes!"

"Yeah, and it sounds like it. What are you actually trying to say?"

Jude pulled off her headphones and walked out of the booth, annoyed and flushed.

"What do you think I'm trying to say?" she challenged.

Tommy leaned against the console. "I think you're writing around what you really feel. Like always."

"Oh, please. Like you're some emotional open book?" She crossed her arms. "You're so afraid of getting close, you push people away before they can even choose you."

That one hit. His jaw flexed.

"You want honesty?" he said, stepping closer. "Fine. Every time I'm around you, it's like someone lit a match in my chest. And I keep trying to put it out, but it won't go away. And yeah, maybe I'm scared, Jude. Because you're seventeen and I'm-"

"Don't say it," she whispered.

He hesitated. "Why not?"

"Because it's just a number. And we both know that's not what this is really about."

He looked at her, really looked at her, eyes tracing every curve of her face like he was trying to memorize her.

"You don't play fair," he said softly.

"And you don't play at all," she replied.

The air between them charged, magnetic. He reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't move. Neither did he.

"Jude…" he said, voice rough. "We can't."

"I know," she whispered, even as her eyes searched his.

"But I want to," he admitted.

Jude's breath hitched. "Then why don't you?"

He dropped his hand, stepping back like it burned. "Because I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt you. And I will, eventually. That's what people like me do."

"That's not true."

"You're seventeen, and this is your world right now. But in five years - hell, in one - you might not even remember how this felt."

"I'll remember," she said, firm. "I'll remember everything. I'm not some dumb kid with a crush, no matter what you think. I know this is more."

They stared at each other for another long, breaking moment. Then Jude turned, went back into the booth, and picked up her guitar.

She slid on her headphones, cleared her throat.

"Okay," she said, voice low, eyes locked on his through the glass. "Let's try the bridge again."

"It's not wrong, it's just too soon
And too bright, and too real
But I'd wait a thousand moons
If it meant you'd finally feel—"

"Between the lines, between the lies
In the space where I survive
You don't touch me, but I burn
You don't kiss me, but I learn…"

The last note hung in the air. Jude's voice cracked, just slightly, and Tommy's hand hovered over the console, not sure whether to stop or let it echo forever.

He didn't speak for a long time.

Then, finally, he pressed the intercom. "That was it."

Jude lowered her head. "Yeah."

Parking Lot, After Midnight

They walked out side by side, wordless. The night air was cool, stars blurred by city haze.

At her car, Jude turned. "So what now?"

Tommy ran a hand through his hair. "We keep working. We keep writing songs that make people uncomfortable."

"And us?"

He gave her a long look. "We keep walking the line."

Jude nodded. "And if we slip?"

Tommy smiled, tired and warm. "We write about it."

She smirked. "Deal."

The G-Major hallway was chaos.

Jude rounded the corner and nearly crashed into Kwest, who was holding a stack of CDs and a latte.

"Whoa - what's the rush?" he asked.

She grabbed the coffee from him without asking and took a sip. "Everyone's acting like I just reinvented music. What happened?"

Kwest gave her a really? look. "You don't know?"

She blinked. "Should I?"

He held up a flash drive. "Someone leaked your demo. Between the Lines is floating around the label and the buzz is nuclear. Some execs from Vibe Sound and the overseas distribution team heard it and want a meeting. Today."

Jude froze. "Wait, what? That song wasn't even finished. It was-" Her voice trailed off.

It was him. It was them.

Kwest smirked. "You and Tommy got something real on that track, and everyone hears it. Which means: congratulations, you've accidentally started a media wildfire."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

Darius leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know, when I said I wanted a hit, I didn't mean a tabloid headline waiting to explode."

Tommy stood across from him, arms folded. Jude perched on the edge of the desk, very much not caring about personal space or professionalism.

"Let me guess," she said dryly, "now you want to capitalize on the scandal we were supposed to avoid?"

Darius gave her a deadpan look. "I want to manage it. Big difference. And step one is putting you in the studio with someone else for a while."

Jude's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"Fresh eyes. Fresh sound. Something to cool down the gossip mill."

Tommy tensed beside her. "Who?"

The office door swung open.

"Me," said the new arrival. Tall. British. All teeth and swagger. Dan Duvall – a rising producer from London with more attitude than actual credits.

"Brilliant track, that one," Dan said, nodding at Jude. "But imagine it with… I don't know. Someone less emotionally compromised behind the board."

Jude's eyes narrowed. "You've been here five seconds and already sound like a walking ego with a Spotify login."

Dan grinned. "And you're every bit the punk princess I was promised."

Tommy stepped forward. "We don't need another producer, D. We're-"

"-not exclusive," Darius interrupted. "And the deal with Vibe Sound depends on showing range. We need to get Jude into the overseas market and Dan's got heat in Europe. He's here for three weeks. Try not to kill each other."

Tommy looked like he wanted to throw the desk. Jude just looked like she might enjoy the chaos.

Later that night, Tommy found her in Studio A. Alone. Strumming.

"You gonna tell me why you didn't fight that harder?" he asked.

Jude didn't look up. "Because I'm not your property. And because maybe I want to know what it's like working with someone who doesn't flinch every time I get too close."

Silence.

"You think that's fair?" Tommy asked, voice low.

"I think," she said, putting her guitar down, "that you're the one drawing the lines. And I'm tired of being punished for crossing ones I didn't make."

He walked closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes.

"You think this is easy for me? Every day, I want to say screw it. Screw the label. Screw the rules. Screw the age gap. I want to grab you and -" He stopped, breath sharp.

"Then why don't you?" she whispered.

Tommy's jaw clenched. "Because I still care about what happens after."

"You think I don't?" Her voice cracked. "You think I'd risk all this just to get burned?"

They stood there, the unspoken thing thrumming between them like feedback.

Then, his hand rose - slow, hesitant - and brushed her cheek. Just once. Just barely.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

They didn't kiss. Didn't touch again.

But when he turned to go, she whispered, "She'll never understand you like I do."

He paused. "Who?"

"The next girl you inevitably get with…"

Tommy looked back, eyes dark.

"Not even close."

The next day, Dan showed up to their session with a smug grin and a shirt unbuttoned two notches too far.

"Ready to break some boundaries, love?" he asked Jude, twirling a pen between his fingers.

She rolled her eyes. "Try not to flirt with my lyrics."

They worked. It was good. Technically. Sharp. Polished. But something was missing.

Dan noticed. "You sing like you're waiting for someone else to walk through the door."

Jude didn't answer.

Tommy didn't come in that day. But when she checked her phone after the session, there was a voice memo.

His voice, rough and late-night tired:

"I heard the new cut. It's good. But it's not you. And it's not us. Just… don't forget who that song was written for. I won't."

It was the Vibe Sound Industry Showcase – a rooftop party bankrolled by Darius in downtown Toronto and Jude's best chance at getting into the international market. Music insiders. Label execs. An important night that she had to pull off.

Jude adjusted her dress for the tenth time - short, sleek, black velvet. Sadie leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed.

"Still time to fake food poisoning," she offered.

Jude rolled her eyes. "It's a song launch, not a trial."

Sadie smirked. "Depends. Are you going with Tommy or Dan?"

"Neither."

Sadie raised a brow. "Liar."

Jude sighed. "It doesn't matter. The label wants the shiny new sound."

"Right," Sadie said. "And Tommy just conveniently vanished off the face of the Earth after producing the best track of your career."

Jude didn't answer. Because yeah - Tommy hadn't returned her texts all week.

And that silence hurt more than she wanted to admit.

The showcase pulsed with music, strobe lights bouncing off glass and high-rise windows. Jude sipped a Coke, ignoring every suit pretending not to be watching her.

Dan strolled up, champagne in hand. "Lovely night for a comeback, yeah?"

"I haven't gone anywhere," she muttered.

He grinned. "Not physically. But emotionally? Let's be honest, love, you're still hanging your heart on a guy who doesn't have the guts to reach for it."

She bristled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know what chemistry sounds like." He leaned in slightly. "And what it doesn't."

Before she could fire back, the event manager called out: "Jude Harrison, you're on in ten!"

She walked toward the stage, heart pounding, unsure if it was from nerves - or the hope that he might still show up.

The set opened with a different song - the label-picked, Dan-produced single. It was shiny, catchy… hollow.

Jude hit every note. Gave every flick of attitude.

But she felt nothing.

When it ended, the applause was polite.

She stepped to the mic, her fingers clenched around it tightly. "That was fun," she said dryly. "But let's try something a little... less rehearsed."

Gasps. Confused whispers.

She stepped back as a stagehand rushed forward, unplugging Dan's track.

Then she reached behind the amp - where she'd stashed her guitar. The old one. The one Tommy had helped her rebuild earlier in the year.

Her fingers curled around the strings, sure and raw.

"I wrote this with someone who probably isn't here tonight," she said, voice steady now. "It was never supposed to be heard. But it's real. And I need to sing it."

The first strum dropped like thunder. And then - she sang.

This time, it was different. The bridge hit like a bruise:

You drew the line,
But I live where it breaks.
And I loved you in silence
For all our mistakes.

By the time she finished, the rooftop was silent.

And then-

Applause. Roaring. Real.

Backstage was chaos. PR people, execs, Dan storming off mid-rant. But Jude barely heard them.

Because Tommy was there.

Leaning against a wall in his beat-up leather jacket, watching her like she'd just set fire to the moon.

She stopped short. "You came."

He didn't speak.

"You heard it."

Still nothing.

She took a step closer. "Say something."

He looked at her, eyes burning. "You wreck me."

Her throat closed. "Then why-"

He didn't let her finish.

One step. Two. Then his hands were on her face and his mouth was on hers.

No hesitation.

No apology.

Just everything they'd buried for months crashing into one, wild, perfect kiss.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet.

It was years of almosts and midnight lyrics and locked doors and locked hearts finally blowing wide open.

When they pulled apart, breathless, she whispered, "That line's gone now, isn't it?"

He nodded. "We crossed it a long time ago."

The next morning, the tabloids exploded.

"JUDE HARRISON KISSES EX-PRODUCER BACKSTAGE!"
"G-MAJOR'S GOLDEN GIRL CAUGHT IN ROOFTOP ROMANCE"
"IS THIS THE END OF TEENAGE STARDOM?"

Darius's phone rang nonstop. The receptionist gossiped at the front desk. Dan sulked off to whatever hole he had crawled out from.

And Tommy? Nowhere to be seen as per usual.

Jude was holed up in her room, her phone lighting up like a Christmas tree: press inquiries from her label, fan DMs, media 'concern', Sadie texting memes to distract her.

But Tommy? Nothing.

Three days. Not even a typing… bubble.

So when her doorbell rang, her stomach flipped. She expected Sadie, or maybe Darius with another speech about "damage control."

She did not expect Tommy standing there, leather jacket zipped, eyes bloodshot, holding her favourite takeout.

"Where have you been?" she frowned.

He held up the bag. "Your favourite. Extra ginger."

She didn't move. "You kissed me and disappeared."

"I needed space."

"You always do."

Tommy exhaled. "Can I come in, or are you gonna slam the door and quote Alanis at me?"

She rolled her eyes and stepping aside to let him by.

They sat cross-legged on the floor, picking at noodles in tense silence.

Tommy finally broke it. "The label wants me to take a break from your project for good."

Jude snorted. "That's rich. I am the project."

"I know. But they think I'm a liability now."

"You kind of are," she said, and he gave her a pained look. "So am I."

He set down the carton. "I don't regret the kiss."

"Then why'd you run?"

"Because I knew this would happen. You'd get dragged. The press would turn you into a scandal, not an artist. You deserve more than that."

"You don't get to decide what I deserve, Quincy," she snapped, eyes shining now. "I'm not some fragile brand. I'm not a kid with a crush anymore."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice rose. "You think I don't see you? That every time you walk into a room, my whole damn world doesn't tilt?"

Jude stood, pacing now, too much heat under her skin. "Then say it. Stop holding me at arm's length like it makes you noble."

"I'm scared," he admitted. "Of ruining this. Of ruining you."

She turned, eyes wild. "Newsflash: I'm not scared. Not of the press, not of the label, not of you. I've loved you longer than I even knew what that meant."

Tommy stood too, close now. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you grow up, knowing where the line is - knowing I already crossed it in my head a hundred times before I ever touched you?"

Silence.

Then Jude whispered, "So what now?"

Tommy stepped forward, every movement deliberate. He brushed a hand down her arm, then cupped her face.

"I don't know. But I want to try."

And just like that, she closed the space between them - slower this time. A kiss that tasted like every what-if they'd buried finally uncoiling.

This one was different. Not desperate. Not stolen.

Chosen.

The next morning, the headlines got worse.

"TOMMY Q AXED FROM G-MAJOR PROJECTS"
"IS JUDE HARRISON'S NEW MUSIC TOO ADULT FOR TEEN FANS?"
"INDUSTRY INSIDERS SLAM ETHICS OF OLDER PRODUCER-YOUNG STAR RELATIONSHIP"

Darius called an emergency meeting.

"You two need to fix this. Fast. Sit down. Give an interview. Or this entire thing goes nuclear."

Tommy stood. "I'll walk away from her album, willingly."

"No," Jude said instantly. "We're not playing that game."

"This isn't a love story, kids," Darius snapped. "This is a business."

"Then you should've signed someone else," Jude said coldly.

She grabbed Tommy's hand. He flinched a little - still not used to it being allowed. Being real.

"We'll do the interview," she told Darius. "But on our terms."

Days later, they sat side-by-side for a live special.

The host leaned forward, clearly thrilled to be stirring the pot. "So, Jude… are you in love with Tommy Q?"

Jude smiled. "That's a complicated question."

The host laughed. "Sounds like a yes."

Then turned to Tommy. "What about you? You're seven years older. Do you think you're setting a dangerous precedent?"

Tommy looked at Jude. She met his eyes. No fear. Just fire.

And he said, "I think the danger is in pretending we're not already in love."

Jude reached for his hand under the table. Squeezed.

The world would keep spinning. The fallout would come.

But this?

This was real.

Her inbox was a war zone.

Jude scrolled through her messages, face unreadable. Fans saying she changed. Others saying they were disappointed. A few saying worse.

She deleted one with trembling fingers.

"You knew this would happen," Sadie said softly from across the room.

"Not like this," Jude whispered. "They don't see me. They see some girl corrupted by an older guy."

Sadie tilted her head. "And is that what happened?"

"No," she forcefully denied.

The boardroom was ice cold. Literally and emotionally.

Darius stood at the head of the table. Tommy and Jude sat side by side, again, but this time there was no hand-holding. Just tension thick enough to choke on.

"The label is putting the album on indefinite hold," Darius said. "PR says this relationship is poisoning your image, Jude. They want you to go solo. Without Tommy. Without baggage."

She blinked. "Baggage?"

Tommy's jaw was tight, unreadable.

"It's him or your record," Darius said bluntly.

No one spoke.

Then Tommy stood.

"I'll go."

Jude turned fast. "No."

He didn't look at her. "You've worked for this since you were a kid. You can't let it get buried because of me."

"You are part of it," she said, voice cracking. "You are in every chord."

He finally looked at her - tired, tender.

"I'll still be in it," he said quietly. "Just not on the credits."

He left before she could stop him.

She found him later at his apartment, packing up a box of studio notes, guitar picks, scribbled lyrics - their life in fragments.

"You really were gonna walk away without saying goodbye?"

"I didn't think you'd come," he said. "You're about to be the biggest thing in music."

She stepped in, closing the door behind her. "You should know me better than that. I'd rather be unknown with you than a superstar alone."

"Don't say that."

"I mean it."

Tommy exhaled, stepped closer. "I keep thinking… if we met when you were twenty-three, this would be so much easier."

She gave a half-smile. "If we met when I was twenty-three, you'd already be a legend with a Grammy and another tragic divorce."

He laughed. "Probably."

Then, softer: "Do you ever regret it?"

Her eyes filled. "Never. Even when it hurts."

His hand reached up, thumb brushing a tear off her cheek. "I miss you. And you're standing right here."

She leaned into his palm. "Then stop trying to save me from something I'm not asking to be saved from."

They kissed again. Not explosive. Not reckless.

Worn-in. Ache-filled. Home.

A week later, Jude walked into G-Major.

No press. No label team. Just her and a burned copy of the finished album. Tommy's fingerprints were all over it - even if his name wouldn't be.

She handed it to Darius. "You can release this. Or you can release nothing, I don't care anymore."

He sighed. "You really think a love story that messy is gonna sell?"

She smiled. "Messy is honest. And honest is louder than gossip."

Darius muttered something about "teenagers and their martyr complexes" but didn't stop her from leaving the CD on his desk. He'd deal with the rest of the PR and exec team later.

The album dropped a week later at midnight.

It was a slow build. A few loyal fans came back. Then more. Then the press pivoted: Jude Harrison's raw, vulnerable sound breaks charts.

Tommy showed up at her door that night with a red liquorish, a bag of junior bacon cheeseburgers with no pickles, and new lyrics scribbled on a napkin.

"I wrote a bridge for your next single," he said.

Jude took the paper. Read it. Smiled.

And pulled him inside without saying a word.

11:47 PM, Studio B

Jude's bare feet padded across the cold studio floor as she stepped up to the mic, hair in a messy bun, his oversized hoodie falling off one shoulder. A month had passed and they were attempting to keep things on the down-low. Darius had let him back into the studio, happy with the way the album was selling.

Tommy sat behind the glass, watching her like she was the whole damn sky.

"Okay," she said, adjusting the headphones. "You're staring."

"I'm producing."

"You're obsessing," she shot back, grinning.

He leaned forward, mic crackling. "You try standing where I am, watching you like this, and not obsessing."

She flushed, heart skipping. "Then stop watching and hit record, Quincy."

He did.

She sang. And this time, it wasn't just lyrics. It was everything she couldn't say out loud: how she missed him the second he left a room. How even the silence between them felt loud with want.

When the final note fell, he didn't speak.

She looked up.

His chair was empty.

He was behind her now.

She turned, slowly, and there he was, just a breath away.

"You didn't say it was good," she murmured.

His voice was low. "It wasn't just good. It wrecked me."

She held his gaze and challenged him. "So wreck me back."

He stepped in, one hand skimming her waist, the other sliding up under her hoodie, palm against bare skin - warm, steady, reverent.

She inhaled sharply. "You always do that."

"What?"

"Touch me like you think I'll disappear."

He swallowed. "I still worry you will."

"Then hold on tighter."

And he did. He kissed her slow this time, not the wild fire of the rooftop, not the goodbye of his apartment. This was something else - something settled, like they'd stopped pretending it was temporary.

When they broke apart, her forehead pressed to his, she whispered, "This can't stay hidden forever."

"I know."

"But I don't want to stop."

"I don't think I could if I tried."

Two weeks later, a leaked photo surfaced.

It was blurry, taken through the glass of the studio - Jude in his lap, guitar balanced between them, his fingers on hers, guiding the chord. Her head tilted back in a laugh.

Not explicit. But intimate.

Enough to blow it all up - again.

The label called another emergency meeting, angry about blacklash the two lovers were causing.

Jude sat in the hallway afterward, back against the wall, chewing her thumb nail.

Tommy crouched beside her, quiet.

"They said it's 'unacceptable,'" she said flatly. "That I've got two choices: dump you for good, or go on hiatus and 'rebuild my image.' These same empty threats are getting old."

He didn't answer.

"You're thinking you should walk again."

"I'm thinking I don't want to."

She turned to him, fierce now. "Then don't. Stay. Fight for this. For me. Because I am so done hiding like I'm ashamed."

Tommy stared at her a long beat. Then gently reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering.

"I'm not ashamed of a damn thing," he said. "Especially not you."

They escaped the city for a weekend - a hotel room outside the noise, neon flickering through the curtains.

She sat cross-legged on the bed in one of his old T-shirts, scribbling lyrics in a worn notebook.

He lay beside her, watching. Always watching.

"Stop it," she said, not looking up.

"Can't help it."

"You're supposed to be sleeping."

"I sleep better when you're next to me."

She set the pen down. "You say things like that and expect me not to melt?"

He reached out, tracing a slow line up her thigh, across the hem of the shirt. "I expect you to melt. A little."

"You're dangerous," she whispered.

He leaned in, kissed the corner of her mouth. "Only for you."

Jude had never felt more alive than she did walking down that red carpet to promote her album, despite the weight of the cameras flashing in her face. Her hand clutched Tommy's, but they kept the space between them casual, even as she could feel his pulse thumping through the touch. She could tell he was torn, still scared of getting caught up in the mess - but this was her moment. Her career. And he was there, with her. With her.

Sadie was a few steps ahead, playing the part of the glamorous older sister like she'd been born for it. She smirked over her shoulder at Jude and Tommy, their linked hands barely noticeable.

"You two are so obvious," Sadie said, not even trying to hide her grin.

Jude shot her sister a warning look. "We don't need to air our dirty laundry in front of everyone, thanks."

Sadie raised a brow. "You mean like your professional relationship with Tommy?"

Jude turned to Tommy, biting her lip. He didn't say a word, but the look in his eyes was a mix of amusement and uncertainty. He wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to pull her away before the press started connecting dots.

The host of the event - some over-the-top red carpet announcer - approached them, grinning like he was about to devour the next scandal. "Jude Harrison, the breakout star of the year! And with you tonight, Tommy Q! Could we feel any more chemistry if we tried?"

Jude smiled, keeping her answer light. "We're just here to have a good time."

But it didn't end there. The cameras followed them as they moved toward the inside of the venue, the press watching their every step.

Tommy leaned in, voice low. "I should've stayed in the car."

"Not an option," Jude whispered back. "They need to see we're not backing down from this. Not anymore."

He didn't respond, but she felt the weight of his fingers tighten slightly around hers. He was here. And for the first time, she realized- maybe he wasn't going anywhere.

Inside the venue, Kwest was leaning against the bar, his eyes locked on Tommy from across the room. There was a whole lot he wasn't saying, but he was always watching, reading Tommy like an open book. They had been friends for too long for Kwest to pretend like he didn't see the mess unfolding in real-time.

"Yo," Kwest said, raising his drink when Tommy approached. "You're looking tense, man. Don't tell me you regret it already?"

Tommy shrugged, his gaze following Jude, who was talking to some label exec. She was all business on the outside, but Tommy knew her well enough to see the crack in her smile. "It's complicated, man."

"Complicated?" Kwest let out a low whistle. "You're standing here with Jude Harrison - the world's next big thing - and you're telling me it's complicated?"

"Yeah. It's complicated."

Kwest leaned back, exhaling a laugh. "What's really complicated, Tommy, is trying to hide it from her. She's not gonna let you stay in the background forever."

"I know that," Tommy said, frustrated. "But this? This is too much. The press is everywhere. I just wanted to protect her, to keep her from losing her damn mind because of me."

"And you're doing that by pushing her away?"

Tommy didn't answer right away. He wasn't ready to admit that Kwest was right, but he knew deep down, he had been pulling away just as much as he was getting closer. He was confused and wanting to make the right choice to protect his girl.

Before Tommy could respond, Kwest added, "Look, you've always been the guy who gets everything - except when it comes to Jude. I don't know what kind of games you two are playing, but if you want her, then stop treating her like a damn project. She's not your savior, man. She's your equal."

Tommy's gaze softened. "She deserves better."

"Better than you? Yeah, right." Kwest grinned, raising his glass. "I just hope you figure it out before someone else does."

Jude stood on stage, her voice soft and steady, as she sang the final chorus of "Between the Lines." The crowd was rapt, hanging on to every word she sang. It was her moment, but all Tommy could think of was the way her gaze occasionally drifted over to where he stood at the side of the stage, silently supporting her.

The song ended. The crowd roared in approval.

But when she reached the edge of the stage, Tommy's heart lurched.

"Hey," she said softly, slipping her hand into his without even thinking.

He looked at her, conflicted, feeling like there was so much unsaid between them. "You're incredible out there."

She smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks. But it's not enough, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

She took a step back. "You're pulling away from me again, Tommy. I feel it. And I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending that everything's okay when I'm fighting for something you're not fighting for."

The weight of her words hit him harder than he expected. He reached for her, but her gaze was already far away.

"You don't get it, do you? I need you here. I'm not doing this alone anymore."

Her words hung in the air, cutting through the music and the noise around them.

Tommy took a deep breath and grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer, his fingers digging into her skin, his thumb brushing over the pulse that beat under her skin. "You want me here?" he asked, his voice low.

She nodded, eyes wide, breath shallow.

He cupped her face with both hands, fingers tracing the line of her jaw, making her heart race. "I'm not going anywhere," he said softly, before kissing her - hard. A kiss that burned with the intensity of everything they were avoiding.

By the time they got back to the hotel, the entire world seemed to have caught fire. The tabloids were already calling their kiss the "confession" - spinning it like some kind of scandal once again.

But Jude wasn't scared anymore.

As they stood at the edge of the balcony, the city lights twinkling below them, Jude turned to Tommy.

"I won't let them destroy this," she whispered. "I won't let them destroy us."

Tommy's fingers brushed over her neck, pulling her close again, his lips brushing her temple. "Then let's not let them." His voice was gruff, almost like a promise. "Let's make them watch."

The next morning, the media had exploded. Headlines blared with everything from "Jude Harrison's 'Love Scandal' Exposed - Again" to "Tommy Q's Forbidden Underaged Love Affair".

Sadie sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone and grinning like she had just found a new toy to play with. "Well, you two are officially the worst-kept secret in music."

Jude buried her face in her hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

"You did kiss him on stage," Sadie teased, her tone more playful than anything. "In front of cameras. Twice. There was no laying low."

Jude glared at her. "You're not helping."

Sadie put her phone down. "Look, I'm not saying it's easy, but this is who you are now. The question is, can you be that girl and still be his girl?"

Jude crossed her arms. "You always know how to make me feel better."

Sadie raised an eyebrow. "That's a big sister's job. And if you're asking if you should choose your career or Tommy? I'm going to say both, but you need to be ready for the fallout."

The call from Darius came in that afternoon.

He was less than pleased.

"Jude, we need to talk. The label's not happy about you continually flaunting your relationship in front of the press. You've crossed the line too many times."

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. "I never asked for permission."

"I know. But now we have a choice," Darius continued. "You can either be the star we want you to be or... well, you can keep Tommy around and watch your career crash."

There was a long silence.

"You're giving me another ultimatum?"

"Yes. And it's up to you to make the right choice this time."

"I already made it," Jude said, voice firm. "Tommy stays. Everyone else can deal with it."

Darius sighed, but there was a hesitation in his voice. "You don't know how much I wish it were that simple."

"I do," she replied softly. "But this time, I am the one calling the shots."

That night, Tommy showed up at her house, knocking softly at the door. Jude didn't hesitate. She opened it, finding him standing there looking lost.

She crossed her arms, voice low. "I told the label. Again. I'm not choosing between you and my career."

His expression softened, but there was still that tension - the one that had never fully gone away. "You think it's that easy?"

"No," she said, stepping forward. "But it's worth it. I want both, Tommy. And I'm done apologizing for that."

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "You're always so damn sure. It's what I love and hate about you."

She smirked, the tension between them electric. "What's wrong? You don't think I'm strong enough to handle it?"

Tommy moved closer, his hands sliding to her waist. "I think you're strong enough to make the hardest decisions. And still pull me in, even when I'm trying to walk away."

Her breath caught. She took his hands, guiding them higher until they were tangled in her hair. "Then don't walk away."

He smiled, but it was barely there. "You really think I could?"

The next morning, the press was relentless. Social media was ablaze. The paparazzi circled like vultures looking for more of the story.

Jude didn't care.

She stepped out onto the stage at her next performance, the lights blinding, the crowd roaring, and Tommy was there in the wings. He wasn't just her producer anymore. He wasn't her 'secret'. He was standing there as hers.

After the performance, as she walked offstage, the weight of the world on her shoulders, she found Tommy waiting, leaning casually against a pillar, his arms crossed. He looked like he had the whole damn world figured out.

"You did good," he said, voice rich with admiration.

She smiled, catching her breath. "Thanks. That wasn't so bad."

He walked toward her, slow and purposeful. "So, what now? We're not hiding anymore. The press and the label are going to be breathing down our necks 24/7."

Jude stopped, her fingers grazing his chest. "We deal with it. Together."

He reached up, his fingers gently brushing her cheek, the touch lingering like an unspoken promise. "You really know how to make everything seem possible."

"I'm not the only one," she whispered.

They kissed. Not rushed, not urgent - but long, drawn out, like the whole world had finally stopped moving for them to have this moment.

When they finally pulled apart, it was just a whisper between them. "What now?" she asked.

Tommy smiled, his thumb gently brushing her lower lip. "Now we do whatever we want. Together."

Weeks later, the fallout from their relationship was still in full force. But the press coverage was shifting. The headlines were now less about scandal and more about truth.

Jude stood in the studio, a final mix playing in the background, eyes on Tommy as he fiddled with some guitar strings.

"You know," she said, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, "I could get used to having you around."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling. "You say that like it's new."

"It is," she teased, walking closer. "I wasn't sure if you were worth the risk, or if you would stick around."

"Well," Tommy said, his voice low and teasing, "you've got me now. So, what are you gonna do with me?"

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I think I have a few ideas."

His hands cupped her face, pulling her into a kiss that was every bit as intense as it was inevitable.

As the music faded in the studio behind them, Jude leaned into Tommy's arms, the quiet finally settling around them like a promise. For the first time, there were no blurred lines, no secrets, no compromises. Just two people who had fought their way through the noise and chosen each other, again and again.

She looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "This… is the start, isn't it?"

Tommy nodded, forehead resting against hers. "Yeah. And this time, we're writing it our way."

Outside the booth, the city pulsed with chaos - but in here, in their own little world, it was just them. And for once, that was enough.

Three Years Later

The studio hadn't changed much - still smelled like coffee, old vinyl, and a hint of whatever cologne Tommy applied. Jude sat cross-legged on the couch, acoustic guitar in her lap, scribbling in a worn-out notebook, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Tommy leaned against the console, arms crossed, watching her like she was still the 15-year-old kid who'd burst into G Major like a hurricane - except now she was all fire and precision, no longer asking permission for anything.

"You've been playing that chord progression for twenty minutes," he said dryly. "Either it's genius or you're trying to hypnotize me into submission."

She didn't even look up. "Oh, please. If I wanted to hypnotize you, I'd wear those leather pants you hate pretending you don't love."

He snorted. "You mean the ones that defy physics and probably traumatized Kwest?"

"That's the ones," she said sweetly, strumming a slow, sultry riff.

Tommy pushed off the console, crossing the room with that maddening calm she never quite got used to. "You're deflecting. The bridge still sucks."

"You suck," she muttered, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth.

He crouched in front of her, plucking the notebook from her lap. "Nope. You just don't want to admit I was right about dropping that second verse."

She rolled her eyes. "You were only half right."

"Which makes me more right than you. Math, Harrison."

"You're infuriating," she muttered, but her hand was already resting lightly against his jaw, thumb brushing the spot just beneath his ear.

"Maybe," he murmured, voice suddenly rougher, "but you're still here." His smile softened, like it always did with her - the kind that slipped past all the walls he still occasionally tried to put up.

"Yeah. I am. So are you."

He leaned in, lips barely ghosting hers, their breath mingling in the quiet space between them. "So are you gonna admit I was right… or do I have to kiss it out of you?"

"Pretty sure that's called harassment," she said, smirking.

"Only if you don't kiss me back."

She didn't answer - not with words. Just reached up, tangled her fingers in his collar, and kissed him like the studio might burn down around them.

When they finally pulled apart, she whispered, "You're still not right about the bridge."

Tommy grinned, eyes dark. "Good. Gives us something to fight about."