The voice is warm, playful, and utterly captivating, I don’t lean forward, but a part of me still leans toward the sound, intrigued despite myself.

Aubrey’s nose crinkles at the playful reprimand. “I’m not lecturing her,” she insists. “I made her an elderberry latte and I was simply explaining its benefits. Is that a crime?” She huffs, crossing her arm, but the twinkle in her eyes betrays her amusement.

The source of the voice rounds the corner and I sit up straighter—not because I want to, but because there’s an allure to her I can’t ignore. She’s striking. Her deep brown skin glows under the cafe lights, her curls are pulled back into a sleek low ponytail, her oversized round glasses frame observant, intelligent eyes. She’s effortlessly stylish in high-waisted jeans, a fishnet undershirt, and a cropped vintage band tee. It’s an aesthetic that says she doesn’t follow trends—she bends them to her will.

There is an undeniable confidence in the way she moves—graceful yet assertive, like someone who commands attention without demanding it.

“Morgan, this is Selene,” Aubrey says, grinning. “She’s the girl I was telling you about—the artist who just moved to town.”

Artist. I don’t correct her right away. The term is almost flattering. But still, precision wins out. “Graphic designer,” I say with a small smile.

“It’s the same thing,” Aubrey dismisses with a wave of her hand. “She works for that band you’re obsessed with, Umbra.”

Morgan’s deep copper eyes light up. “You’re the one behind their visuals? That’s amazing. How did you even meet them?” Her excitement isn’t performative. It’s real, eager, a sincerity no one can fake. She slides into the booth beside Aubrey, her energy magnetic. Not just movement—momentum.

“It was literally a fluke. My sister called me one night after I moved in with my brother and asked if I could help her friend with a promotional graphic for a band. I said yes not realizing who she was talking about. A week later, I had a contract, and my life hasn’t been the same since. Thanks to them I was able to move out here, buy a house, and leave the chaos of my old life behind.”

“Wait, your sister knows the band?”

I huff a soft laugh, shaking my head. “At this point, I’m not sure there’s anyone she doesn’t know. Celeste has this way of floating into people’s lives and somehow becoming impossible to forget. One minute she’s in Oregon making candles with a woman named Tiger Lilly, the next she’s backstage at a show talking astrology with a lead singer. She collects people like postcards—bright, chaotic, and all over the map.”