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“We’re doing this.”

“We’re fucking doing this.”

“Cal.” His voice drops into something that’s half disbelief, half something I recognize from every time we’ve stood in the wings before a show and looked at each other. “We’re writing another album. A real one. Ours. No leash, no clause, no Steve sitting at the head of the table telling us what to cut.” It’s true. We’d managed to negotiate with Apex to give us much, much more freedom than with our first album. You don’t have that sort of power when it’s your foot into the industry, but now we’ve proven ourselves, and it feels so fucking good.

He laughs, and we catch up briefly before he says he’s got to go.

And then the group chat explodes.

Luca

SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER

I am BURNING the modeling cardigan

there will be a CEREMONY to say be done with it. I am not to be objectified anymore.

unless of course it’s a chick I want, then she may objectify me all she likes

Harrison

I have not been this happy in a long time guys.

Eli

Luca you have to keep the cardigan it is a good cardigan and you looked fucking hot in it

Eli

Well hot for a short king

Luca

I looked incredible

Cal when you get back here I am going to bear hug you so hard

Cal

looking forward to it

Luca

and THEN I’m going to be very stern with you about never leaving us again

and THEN we’re going to write the best album anyone has ever heard

I put the phone down on the counter and look at the ceiling and let myself have it—just for a minute. The thing I’ve been holding at arm’s length since the conference room on the eleventh floor of Bingo Studios, since I told them to give me a year and watched them decide whether to believe me.

They believed me.

I didn’t make it easy, and they believed me anyway.

Luca

okay but LOGISTICS

where are we doing this, please do not say someone’s garage again. Harrison’s garage smelled like a wet dog for the entire first EP