My stomach turns.
“Velocity.”
Their first hit.
Thesong.
Cal continues, “One of your biggest songs—an older one too. And I’ve got to ask—Rafe, you wrote that, right?”
Rafe’s jaw clenches. He gives a small nod. “Yeah,” he says, voice careful. “I wrote it.”
Cal grins. “How old were you? Like… twenty?”
Rafe lets out a short huff, almost a laugh. “A little older, but yeah, we were still in college,” he says. “If you can believe that.”
Drew sits forward a little. “He was dramatic even then.”
The audience laughs.
Cal points at Rafe. “A college song that becomes a global hit. That’s insane.”
Rafe shrugs, but it’s rigid, controlled. “It happens.”
Cal’s eyes gleam. “Tell us a little about it.”
The audienceoooohslike they’ve been trained.
I go cold. Rafe’s gaze flicks toward Cal, then—briefly, like it’s involuntary—toward me and then away again.
His mouth curves into something that isn’t a smile. “It was about… a feeling.”
Drew snorts. “That’s such a songwriter answer.”
“Shut up,” Rafe mutters.
Cal laughs, delighted. “Come on, man. First loves. That’s what those lyrics are about, right?”
My throat closes.
First loves.
Like it was simple.
Like it was clean.
Like it didn’t rewrite my whole life.
Cal keeps going, playful. “And honestly, first loves are a good starting point. They lead you toward something new and real. They teach you what you want.”
I force my face to stay neutral. Inside, I wince so hard it feels like I’m splintering.New and realimplies the old wasn’t. It implies it’s done. Implies?—
Rafe’s voice cuts in. “First loves don’t really leave,” he says.
The room stills for half a beat. Even Cal pauses, eyebrows lifting like he didn’t expect that. The audience makes a small sound—something between awe and curiosity.
Rafe’s gaze is still forward, but his hands are clenched now, fingers rigid around nothing. He looks like he surprised himself.
My chest aches.
