Track Ten
Your Pov
You wake up before Daniela. Not really sure what to think. Last night was great, you honestly had a great night with her but where does this leave you guys. You kissed, way more than the first time. But you enjoyed it so much, but that scared you even more.
You look at the woman laying on your chest, taking in her features and how peaceful she looks when she sleeps.One arm around your waist, like she didn't want to let go and the other tucked into your hoodie she took.
You couldn't even be mad at her for real, it looked so good on her and honestly, you already feel like you couldn't say no to her.
.. You realize this is the part you're not good at.
The aftermath.
The space of if things become something or not.
You see Daniela starting to move a little, waking up. She realizes you're next to her, registering that you guys slept in the bed together. Forgetting that she asked you to say, but a little surprised you stayed the whole night.
"Morning" she says, voice soft with sleep.
"Morning", you reply. "how'd you sleep?" you ask. "um pretty good i wanna say. you?" she asks
"Yeah same." you reply.
Then reality slips back in.
Daniela sits up, pulling the blanket with her.
"What time is it?" You check your phone.
"Too early for either of us." She smiles faintly.
"Figures." You expect her to say something else.
About last night. About staying. About anything.
But she doesn't. Instead, she swings her legs off the bed and stretches, hoodie riding up just enough for you to look away.
Boundaries.
You remind yourself.
"I should probably head back soon," she says lightly. "We've got rehearsal in a few hours."
"Yeah," you say. "I've got a session later too."
There it is.
Distance. Not cold. Just... intentional.
She watches you for a moment, like she's deciding whether to call you out on it. Then she nods. "Last night was nice though."
You meet her eyes. "Yeah. It was."
Not amazing. Not important.
Just... nice.
She doesn't push. She never does.
You see her trying to give the hoodie back but you stop her.
"hey just keep it, i have so many of them so one isn't a big deal.
also you look really good in it..." you mention.
"thank you..." she says blushing. When you walk her to the door, it feels heavier than it should.
She slips her sneakers on, turns once more.
"I'll see you," she says.
You hesitate. Then: "Text me when you get home."
Her smile is small but real. "Okay."
After she leaves, the apartment feels too quiet. Too still. You clean up cups that don't need cleaning. Reset the couch. Turn off the TV that's already off.
You tell yourself you're doing the right thing.
Later that day, your phone doesn't stop buzzing.
Emails. Sessions. Deadlines. A message from Madison asking if you're coming to something later this week. Familiar. Easy. No emotional risk attached. You don't reply right away.
Little do you know at rehearsal, Daniela tries to focus. She really does. But Megan notices first. Again.
"You're drifting," she says during a break, handing Daniela a water bottle.
"I'm fine," Daniela insists.
Lara smirks. "You said that yesterday."
Daniela rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. She knows she's distracted. Knows it's stupid. Knows she shouldn't be replaying the way your voice sounded this morning when you said text me when you get home like it meant more than it did.
Because maybe it didn't.
By the time she checks her phone later, there's nothing new from you.
No good morning.
No follow-up.
No acknowledgment of the fact that something shifted last night.
And that's what gets to her.
Not rejection.
Not jealousy.
Uncertainty.
That night, you're back in the studio. Alone. Headphones on, track looping, unfinished. You keep adjusting the same section over and over, like if you perfect it, something else will settle too.
It doesn't.
You think about how easily Daniela fit into your space. How natural it felt. How dangerous that is.
Your phone lights up.
Daniela: made it home btw. hope your session went okay.
You stare at the message longer than necessary.
You type.
Delete.
Type again.
Safe.
Neutral.
Controlled.
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Then nothing.
You lean back in your chair, closing your eyes.
This is the push and pull.
The almosts.
The thing you told yourself you could handle.
And maybe you can.
But you're starting to realize something you don't like admitting:
Daniela isn't just someone you're trying not to fall for.
She's someone who might wait just long enough for you to decide whether you're brave enough to stop pulling away.
And that thought sits with you long after the studio lights dim.
Time Skip: The Next Day
The studio smells like coffee and cables—familiar enough to calm you, loud enough to drown out your thoughts.
Almost.
Madison's already there when you walk in, perched on the couch with her legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like she owns the place. She looks up when you enter, smile easy, practiced.
"Hey stranger," she says. "You disappear lately."
"Been busy," you reply, setting your bag down.
She hums, unconvinced. "That's new."
Before you can respond, the door opens again.
Daniela.
Shit...
She steps in like she's bracing for something she doesn't want to feel. Hoodie, headphones around her neck, face unreadable. For half a second, her eyes meet yours.
Then she looks away.
"Hey," Madison says brightly, standing. "You must be Daniela. I've heard about you."
Daniela blinks. "You have?"
Madison smiles wider. "Oh yeah. Y/N doesn't shut up when someone impresses them."
You shoot her a look. "That's not true."
Madison just laughs.
Daniela doesn't. She nods politely, setting her bag down across the room—farther than necessary.
"So," Madison continues, "are you sitting in on the session or just hanging?"
"Just here to work," Daniela says. Neutral. Professional.
You feel it immediately. The shift.
The line she's drawing.
The session starts slow. You play a beat you've been stuck on all day, watching Daniela from the corner of your eye as she listens. She closes her eyes, head tilting slightly, fingers tapping against her thigh.
"You wanna try something?" you ask.
She opens her eyes. "Sure."
She steps into the booth, slipping the headphones on like muscle memory. The mic lights up. Her voice comes through clean. Controlled. Beautiful in a way that makes Madison stop scrolling.
"Damn," Madison mutters under her breath.
Daniela doesn't react. She sings again, adding a harmony you didn't know you needed until it exists. The track fills out, warm and intimate.
Too intimate.
You stop it.
"That was good," you say, a little too quickly. "Let's take a second." Madison raises an eyebrow. "Why? It sounded finished to me." You don't answer. Daniela steps out of the booth, pulling the headphones off.
"Something wrong?" she asks.
"No," you say. "Just... wanted to adjust a few things."
She studies you, like she knows that's not the full truth. Like she's deciding whether to call you out or let it slide.
She lets it slide.
Madison checks her phone. "I'm gonna grab a coffee. You guys want anything?"
"I'm Good," you and Daniela say at the same time. Madison smirks. "Cute." The door closes behind her, leaving the room suddenly too quiet.
Daniela breaks it first. "She seems... comfortable here."
"She's comes around a lot pretty much" you say.
"Yeah," Daniela replies. "I can tell."
Not accusatory. Just observant.
You shift in your chair. "It's not like that."
She shrugs. "I didn't say it was."
That's worse.
You stand, crossing the room without thinking. "You've been different today."
She meets your eyes. "So have you."
Fair.
She exhales slowly. "Look, I'm not trying to make things weird. I just—" She stops herself, lips pressing together. "Never mind."
"No," you say softly. "Finish that."
She hesitates. Then: "I don't like feeling like I'm guessing where I stand."
The words land heavier than she intended.
Before you can respond, the door opens again.
Madison's back, coffee in hand. "Did I miss anything?"
Daniela steps back immediately, space reappearing between you like it was never gone. "Nope," she says. "All good."
She grabs her bag. "I've got another thing to get to."
Already leaving.
"Daniela—" you start.
She pauses at the door. Looks at you once more. "Text me when you figure it out."
Then she's gone.
Madison watches her leave, then turns to you. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
You don't argue.
Because for the first time, you're realizing the push-and-pull might cost you something real if you keep letting the moment pass.
Danielas POV
Daniela doesn't leave the studio calm.
She leaves tight. Wired. Like the tension is still humming in her chest even after the door shuts behind her. She hates that Madison got under her skin. Not because of anything she didbut because of how easy it looked. How familiar. How close. The way you didn't have to think around her.
Daniela drives home with the radio off, replaying everything instead. The way you stopped the track too early. The way your eyes followed her when she stepped back. The way you didn't chase her—but didn't stop her either.
That part hurts more than she wants to admit.
At home, she kicks her shoes off and drops onto her bed, staring at the ceiling like it might give her answers. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand. Not that phone buzz. Just a group chat. A distraction she doesn't want.
She grabs the phone anyway.
Nothing from Y/N.
Of course.
Daniela tells herself she's not the type to spiral.
She's confident, grounded, used to rooms full of people wanting her attention.
But this is different. This isn't a crowd, this is one person who makes her feel off-balance in the quiet.
She thinks about the way you listen. Really listen.
Like you're always holding something back, deciding what to give and what to keep.
She wonders if Madison knows that version of you already.
The thought sits wrong.
An hour passes. Then another.
It's almost embarrassing how many times she opens the same text thread without typing anything. She starts a message. Deletes it. Locks her phone. Unlocks it again.
Don't be obvious, she tells herself.
Don't chase.
But she also knows this: if she doesn't say something, nothing changes. And she's tired of guessing. She types. Deletes. Types again.
Finally, she sends:
Daniela:I didn't mean to dip so fast earlier. Just needed air.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Disappear.
Reappear.
Her heart kicks harder than it should.
Y/N:I figured. You okay? I already know this my fault and i apologize for that.
She exhales, fingers tightening around the phone.
Daniela:Yeah. Just thinking a lot.
A pause. Longer this time.
Y/N:About what?
She sits up, back against the headboard. This is the part where she usually dodges. Makes a joke. Keeps it light.She doesn't tonight.
Daniela:
About where I stand with you.
The typing bubble doesn't show up right away. She stares at the screen, already bracing herself. When it finally does, it stays longer than before.
Y/N:That's fair.
That's it. Not reassurance. Not distance. Just...honesty. Daniela swallows.
Daniela:
I don't need anything big. I just don't like feeling like I'm on the outside of something I'm already in.
Another pause.
She can practically feel Y/N thinking through the phone.
Y/N:I know I've probably said this a lot but i genuinely am afraid of people getting too close. And last night meant it was getting real. and that scared the shit out of me.
Her chest tightens—not because it hurts, but because it explains everything.
Daniela:I know. I can feel it.
A beat.
Y/N:Does that make you want to walk away?
She doesn't hesitate this time.
Daniela:No. It just makes me want to know when you're pushing me away... and when you're just scared.
Silence.Then.
Y/N:Maybe a little of both.
Daniela smiles softly, even though no one can see it.
That's enough for tonight.
Daniela:Okay. I can work with honesty. It's better than nothing.
Three dots.
Y/N: Just know,I'm glad it's you.
Her breath catches.
She locks the phone before she can overthink it, setting it face-down on the bed like it might burn through the sheets. She lies back, staring at the ceiling again—but this time, the tightness in her chest feels different.
Less like confusion.
More like anticipation.
And somewhere across the city, she wonders if you're probably staring at your phone too, wondering when pulling back stopped being enough to keep control.