The next two months are a blur.

MARS isn't stagnant. We aren't even a single planet in an entire solar system; thanks to the overwhelmingly positive response of Escape Velocity, we are the solar system. Every planet, every star, every infinite square inch of dark matter belongs to us, is made of us.

"It's him again," Seira taunts, leaning over the center console and resting her head against my shoulder as she watches me open texts from Brendon.

I shove her off. "Leave me alone."

"We're in a car."

Rami adds, "And she's living vicariously through you since no fish have been tugging on her bait."

"Says the guy who hasn't even looked at a woman for the past four years."

"Maybe it's because I'm not interested in anyone."

"Yeah, just interested in your hand—"

"Leave each other alone," I scold.

After a few weeks of not seeing each other and barely having time to call between timezone changes, interviews, and races, we find one outlet of solace in the chaos. An anchor to keep us still amidst the ravenous seas of our industries.

        The playlists aren't placeholders for love letters or anything like that. Simply songs we enjoy and want the other person to enjoy as well. When I fall asleep most nights, it's to the music curated in Brendon's playlist.

After convincing Jenny to let us borrow the car for the night so we can wander around Milan for a couple of hours before we have to head back to the States, the three of us have been careening down the Italian highway.

Rami pulls the car into a Carrefour parking lot so we can grab something quick to eat on our way back to the hotel. I take my time following them inside and ring Brendon back.

"The Daddy Issues song is a nice touch," I tell him.

"I knew you'd appreciate it. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out is exactly the kind of light-hearted song I expected you to add to yours."

        "Shame he's a bit of a fash."

"It is. And he is."

"How's your week been?"

"Mum finally called and tried to apologize for Dad's behavior at brunch," he explains. "But when I asked her to put him on the phone, she said he wasn't home so it kind of makes the attempt moot. Hence the song."

"I'm sorry." My words soften. "He's a dick and she enables him. They don't deserve you."

"I miss you."

A warm breeze coasts across my skin as I close my eyes. "I miss you too."

"I need to hop into a meeting but I can call you after I'm done." The cruelty of being in the same timezone for the first time in months and still not being aligned. "You can tell me about your week."

"My week can wait. Tell me about yours. Call when you're free."

When we hang up the phone, I'm jolted back to reality when footsteps descend upon me. I spin to see Rami walking toward me with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"If you don't hurry up, Seira is going to steal all of the chocolate croissants."

"Over my dead body."

"Everything alright?"

I nod. "Yeah, it's all good."

"Glad things aren't awkward after the kiss."

"Wha—" I sputter. "Who the hell told you about that? Was it Jun? Brendon?"

"You think they'd go behind your back? I know everything. Nothing gets past me."

"I don't know why I bother trying to hide it." As of today, Jun is still the only person I've told about my and Brendon's kiss, but the more I think about it, the less surprised I am Rami was able to figure it out. I'm still...figuring things out."

Before we head inside, his eyes search mine. "I know Jun is your go-to but sometimes it's good to talk to someone a little more objective."

"Thanks, Rami." I slap his arm. "Maybe when I'm not about to wrestle with Seira over baked goods."

We find Seira perusing the pasty aisle with a basket filled to the brim with snacks. As soon as we pull up beside her, she tosses another pastry inside and two others fall out. Rami leans down to grab it for her.

"Bulking up with excessive carbs, are we?"

"Carbs are the love of my life." Seira grabs the packaged pastries from Rami. "Is Brendon still kicking ass?"

"Pretty sure you can check the news to see he is."

"I just wanted to hear you talk about him again. You get all smiley and shit. It's cute."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Seira hands me the last chocolate croissant from the shelf.

"So, since Stevie and Bash are full speed ahead, when are we going to talk about the other two?"

She walks ahead, leaving Rami and me to share a perplexed look. When she notices our hesitation, she turns around, placing one hand on her hip.

"Jun and Lauren."

I brush past and head toward the drinks. "Not sure where you've been but that isn't anything new."

"No, but there's something different about them, don't you think?" She stalks toward me. "For a couple of months. I think something happened."

I avoid looking at Rami because I'm sure he's fully aware of what transpired at Maver's house; this isn't a confirmation I need.

"Like what? Lauren is still with Maver."

"As if that would stop her. And none of us would judge her for it because it's—" Seira fakes a gag, "—Maver."

"Please leave them alone." Rami comes between us and throws his arms around our shoulders. "They'll tell you when they're ready to."

"So something did happen!"

"That's not what I said."

She brushes him off once we reach the end of the aisle. "I can infer."

"Okay, but don't you think we have a right to know?" Seira spins.

        I squint at her. "And why would we have a right to their relationship?"

"Because. If their relationship becomes something else and ends badly, it could affect the entire band."

"I think that's more of a problem for another day if it does happen."

She doesn't look convinced.

"Please," I beg, even though I would love some clarity. The difference is I understand there likely isn't any even within the involved parties. I'm better off trying to swim forward in a riptide. "Just let them be."

"Fine. But may I point out once again that they're back at the hotel alone?"

"Jenny is there," Rami points out.

She laughs. "Not where they are, I promise you that."

...

My brain must be scrambled into soup after all this promo because when the Forbes 30 under 30 list drops as we arrive back in the States, I'm caught by surprise.

If I think handling my phone and emails is a struggle, it's nothing compared to this. As soon as I power up my phone, the notifications blow up like fireworks on my screen.

"Stevie, what is this?" Lauren yelps, jogging to catch up to me. "Have you seen this? Holy sh—"

"Ma'am, you look stunning here," Seira adds when she rushes to meet us.

Holding up her phone, she shows me pictures from a photoshoot I did about a week before we left for Monaco. It was arranged quickly and over within eight hours. A blink in the eye during an otherwise chaotic time. It feels like a lifetime ago and I barely remember everything from that day, aside from the casual interview done by the industry peer Forbes selected.

"I should wear blue more often."

"That's what I've always been saying!" Seira squeals. She yanks the phone back and flicks through the photos. "I know that whole Leo shit says to not wear pastel blue colors but you look hot."

While we jump in the car, everyone reads the Forbes profile in silence.

...

I know her as Stevie, but she prefers to be called Stevie from the band MARS, and I think that sums her up as a person. (Though she will have you believe that not letting men into her shows for free is what embodies her the most.)

We met at the beginning of the year and quickly became partners in crime, but it wasn't until the summer of 2022 that I felt like I finally get to know her as more than just a singer, but as a person and a woman navigating a complicated industry.

Stevie is a leader. Not in the traditional sense she often talks about—one of her favorite pastimes is lovingly gushing about Rami's role in the band—but because she's inspiring. She leads with her heart and stands up for what she believes in. Whether it's speaking out about issues facing Native Hawaiians in their own land, including their fight for independence, outspoken efforts about the unfair criticism society aims at women, particularly concerning her experience living in the public eye, or, as a bisexual woman, her fight for equality for all LGBTQIA+ individuals. There is no shortage of reasons that we could all turn the tables on her and loving gush about her role in the industry.

It's not like she would even accept your compliment anyway. Stevie is the type of person who stares at the ground and shakes her head in disbelief when anyone tries to tell her she's beautiful. And she is. But her outward beauty is the least interesting thing about her.

When I was asked to write about her today, I was at a loss. How do I sum up the magnificence of this singular person in less than a thousand words? A hundred thousand words would be the bare minimum to do her justice, though a million would still leave hundreds of reasons left untouched. And so I realized something—it's simply not possible. The only way to understand a woman like Stevie is to know her. To listen to the words she so carefully crafts into the most beautiful songs you've ever heard in your life. To watch the way she loves and loves and loves her friends as if they are stitched directly from the fabric of her soul. To breathe in the life she lovingly gives to those around her.

It's not a matter of if but when she will find herself at the very top, and she'll be all too quick to show off her bandmates—note: best friends and soulmates—right by her side. Because she is not who she is without them, and they are not the cluster of stars without her.

Whether she's willing to admit it or not, Stevie is one of the brightest stars in this industry, and everyone that meets her can't wait to bask in her glory, myself included. There is nothing shy about her talent, nothing fake about her empathy, and nothing quiet about the way she loves. To know her is to witness magic. And we should all be so lucky to be enchanted by Stevie.

...

As I'm reading the profile, the silence settles and doesn't break until Lauren speaks

"Stevie," she inquires, "why did Moxie interview you?"

Not even the sound of traffic can drown out the staunch silence. "Forbes scheduled a day for an interview and photoshoot but I didn't know she was going to be there until I showed up."

"Huh."

I turn around to stare at Seira. "What was that?"

"Nothing. I just said huh."

"That was the most loaded huh I've ever heard."

"It's just weird they didn't ask any of us to do the interview, that's all."

Her words harbor an unexpected bitter tone, and the back of my neck prickles at the way it makes me feel. "I had literally no say in the matter."

"I'm not saying you did. I'm just saying it's weird."

        "Maybe they wanted someone outside of the inner circle to do it."

Seira clicks off her phone. "You're right. Forget I said anything."

"Okay then."

"How long did you know about it?" Lauren asks.

"Really? We can't just let me enjoy this for five minutes? Must we play twenty-one questions?"

The lack of communication between Lauren and me over the past couple of months has been unintentional. It's not like either of us is harboring any ill feelings toward each other, but between the outcome of her and Jun's attempts to help with letting my mother stay at the house without consulting me first, as well as the subsequent kiss which I don't agree with, we haven't had much to speak about beyond band-related matters.

Part of me understands I may be treating this unfairly as Jun is a willing participant and able to make his own decisions, but I have to believe I would feel this way even if it wasn't my best friend involved, and his autonomy over his decisions doesn't absolve her of the responsibility she has over hers.

"You didn't answer the question."

"Marty told me when I got back from Melbourne."

Lauren's eyes glaze over with hurt. "You've known for that long and didn't tell us?"

"We had to sign an NDA."

"Because you're the biggest fan of not breaking NDA's," Seira laughs.

        I shoot her a glare. "I don't understand why it's a big deal I didn't share this."

"Because that's a huge thing, Stevie. Who else deserves to know first besides us?"

"Did you tell Bash?" Lauren asks.

"No."

The driver interrupts. "Do you need to stop anywhere before we head to your house?"

Utilizing him as an excuse to cut the conversation short, I turn back to the front. "No, we're fine. Thank you."

The rest of the ride home is filled with awkward silences and dulled radio music. Not even a surprise appearance by Maverick and a song from his new EP can lighten the mood, and by the time our driver pulls up to our curb, we're ready to launch ourselves out of the vehicle.

As soon as my door closes behind me, I shove my suitcases by my closet and hop onto my bed. Traveling might be good for the soul, but there's nothing like sleeping in my own bed.

I don't know how many times I reread the profile. It's as if someone has waved their magic wand and taken every part of my soul into this piece, and Moxie deserves the utmost credit for all of it. I send her a text to give me a call whenever she's free and drop back onto the mattress.

A knock at the door yanks me back down to Earth.

        "Stev?"

I look at up Lauren peeking around the corner. "Yeah?"

"Can we talk?"

"Yeah, sure."

She closes the door behind her and tiptoes into the room. The mattress sinks beneath her weight and the warmth from her body hits me like I'm sitting next to a furnace.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she starts. "That wasn't fair of us to lay all of that on you. We're so proud of everything you've achieved and would never want to take that away from you."

"Thanks," I laugh, picking at my sheets. "I should have told you all about it. I don't know why I didn't."

She shoves her shoulder against mine. "I get it. Something big like that happens and you don't really know how to react."

"I don't know how to handle some of the things that happen to us, you know? I can't help but think about all of the other amazing people who deserve the same opportunities, and I wonder why I'm the one that gets to live this dream."

"You deserve it." Lauren places her hand over mine; my sun. "It's important to remember that. Don't feel guilty about any of it."

Since we're alone, I take advantage of the privacy to confront her. "I should apologize, too. We haven't really talked these past couple of months."

       "Yeah, that's something else I want to talk to you about."

"Jun told me about the kiss."

"I figured." She pulls her legs up and settles into the bed. "Keeping you two from talking about something is impossible."

"We're a package deal, for better or worse." I catch her eye. "If it makes you feel any better, he got the gut-reaction version of me. At least I had time to think about it."

"Is that supposed to mean you suddenly changed your mind about it all?"

"Well...no. But I'll be more gentle about it."

"Lucky me," she laughs.

"I know you don't need me to preach about chea—"

"I broke up with Maver."

"Come again?"

She repeats. And then once more when I still don't respond. "Stevie? Have you traveled to another astral plane—"

"I'm sorry, I'm a little in shock right now."

"I know it's what you've all been waiting for—"

"He wasn't that bad."

"You hated him, Stevie."

"I hated him but he was better than the guy in high school that wanted you to be a cheerleader for his men's rights activist group."

"—but I needed time to realize what I wanted on my own, and once I did, I knew I needed to end things."

As much as digging into Maver Vincent is one of my favorite pastimes, I can't ignore the hurt etched into Lauren's features, and if she's got a heart as big as I know she does, then it's been nurturing this pain on its own.

"I'm sorry, Lauren."

She swipes a lone tear before it falls. "God, it feels good to finally let that out."

"How long?"

"Two weeks," she answers. "I know that means I still cheated on him and even though no one liked him, I'm not proud of that. He's a dick but I'm better than that. I made sure to tell Maver about it. I didn't want to hide or have him find out later. That wouldn't be fair."

Pulling her into my chest, I rub my hand down her arm. "It's okay. You owned up to it. You're not a terrible person for it."

"It's not fair to him," she repeats. This time it's not for Maver.

I can't lie and pretend like I don't feel for Jun in this. While I'm not going to exile my friend for her mistake, I also can't ignore the emotional turmoil he must feel being on the other end of Lauren's confusion. And after Monaco, it's not like I have much ground to stand on either. Just because I didn't cheat on anyone doesn't mean I don't also harbor the same guilt over not knowing how to handle what I want.

I coax Lauren's face up. "One step at a time. You need to grieve the relationship before you can be ready to figure out the next one. How does ice cream and shitty romcoms with Seira sound?"

Despite a tear slipping through the cracks, Lauren finds a way to laugh.

"As long as it's not Werewolf in the Catacombs."

"Never in a billion years."