The morning sunlight spilled over Westwood High golden and lazy, glinting off polished floors and the occasional backpack zipper. Students moved in streams, rushing from lockers to classes, talking over each other, slamming doors, laughing, tripping, and calling across the hall. Alex adjusted his backpack, guitar case balanced carefully on one shoulder, and walked through the chaos.
The whispers followed him like shadows, faint today, but persistent. He'd learned to ignore them, most of the time, but some days, they felt heavier than the guitar on his back.
That Rose.
He's probably just riding his grandpa's fame.
Can he even play?
Alex kept his eyes forward. Today wasn't about proving anyone wrong. Not yet. Today was about living a normal high school day, something he didn't often get to do.
Jon and Neil were waiting near the gym, leaning casually against the lockers. Jon's bass was slung over his shoulder, fingers checking the strings almost automatically. Neil, ever the chaotic one, spun a drumstick in his fingers while dodging a group of freshmen.
"Morning," Jon said without looking up.
"Hey," Alex replied, his voice quiet.
He passed through the crowded hall, and that's when he saw her. A girl he didn't recognize, leaning against the wall near the art room, sketchbook in hand. Her hair fell in soft waves over her face, and she seemed completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing.
Not one of the usual Westwood High attention-seekers, he thought. She's just… existing.
Alex paused mid-step, almost tripping over his own feet. Jon noticed and smirked.
"Thinking of talking to her?" Jon asked casually.
Alex shrugged. "Maybe. I don't even know her name."
Neil snorted. "You're terrible at subtlety, you know that?"
Alex rolled his eyes but couldn't look away. There was something calm about her, unlike the usual chaos of the halls. Maybe it was the notebook. Maybe it was just her.
He walked slowly past her, trying to sound casual. "Hey… uh, what're you working on?"
The girl looked up, startled but not annoyed. Her green eyes met his, sharp and curious. "Just sketches," she said. "You play?"
Alex blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You… the guitar," she said, nodding slightly toward his case. "I hear you sometimes in the music room. I like it."
Alex felt heat rise in his chest. Not embarrassment, though there was plenty of that, but something else. She likes it. Just… my music. Not my name.
"Thanks," he said, fidgeting with the strap of his case. "I'm… Alex."
"I'm Lena," she replied, giving him a small smile. "Nice to meet you."
Before he could think of something clever to say, the bell rang, scattering the hallway like startled birds. She tucked her notebook under her arm and walked away, leaving him standing there, suddenly aware of his heartbeat.
Jon nudged him. "Smooth."
"Shut up," Alex muttered, though he couldn't stop smiling.
By lunchtime, Alex was practically vibrating with a mix of excitement and nerves. The trio sat at their usual table near the music room, trays barely touched. He replayed the encounter over and over in his mind. Every detail: the way her pencil moved, the way her eyes flicked up when she noticed him, the faint smirk when she said she liked the music.
Neil leaned back, tapping his fingers on the table. "So… someone new catching your eye, huh?"
Alex rolled his eyes. "It's not like that."
Jon didn't comment. He just gave Alex a knowing glance and went back to quietly observing the other students, scanning the cafeteria with the precision of someone calculating the exact trajectory of a bass note.
"I think you should just talk to her again," Neil said. "You seem like you want to."
Alex sighed. "I'll see her… maybe. Don't make it a thing."
Neil laughed. "Of course not. Totally casual."
The lunch bell rang, and students spilled back into the halls. Alex lingered, glancing toward the music room. I should go there early today… just to play. Nothing else.
After school, the music room was quiet, almost too quiet, but that was exactly what Alex needed. He unpacked his guitar, fingers brushing the worn frets, strumming lightly. The strings buzzed under his touch, imperfect but alive.
Jon picked up his bass, plucking slowly, testing the rhythm. Neil drummed softly on the practice pads, more in time than ever. The trio didn't count in or start formally, they just let the sounds grow organically, layering over one another until the music felt like breathing.
Alex's thoughts drifted to Lena. He imagined her sitting somewhere nearby, notebook open, sketching the same rhythm he was playing. A smile tugged at his lips. Music had always been a way to escape, but right now it felt like a bridge, a way to connect without words.
"Hey," Neil said suddenly, grinning. "Ever notice the best songs come when you're… not thinking about being perfect?"
Alex nodded. "Yeah. That's why I like playing with you guys."
Jon glanced up briefly, expression softening. "It's true. Music's better when it's alive. Messy. Honest."
Alex strummed a few more chords, letting them echo off the walls. It wasn't about impressing anyone. Not yet. It wasn't about legacy. It was just him. Just them. Just… alive.
Later, as the sun dipped behind the hills, casting long shadows across Westwood High, Alex walked home, guitar case slung over his shoulder. He passed Lena in the courtyard again. She glanced up from her sketchbook and met his eyes.
"Hey," she said softly. "You're really good."
Alex smiled. "Thanks… see you around?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
And just like that, a small thread was woven, a connection neither of them fully understood yet, but one that would stretch and grow over the weeks to come.
Alex walked the rest of the way home thinking about her smile, her notebook, the way she didn't seem impressed by the name "Rose." For the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like a burden.
It felt… normal.