February 2023

Leia tugged her coat tighter around herself as they crossed the runway, boots tapping over concrete slick with yesterday's rain. The hangar lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting pale yellow halos across the tarmac, but the jet ahead of them glowed like it belonged to a richer world. 

It was the day before the Grammy's - something she'd been anticipating ever since her nominations were announced back in Fall. Taylor wasn't attending - she had much more urgent things to do with the Eras Tour staring in just over a month - but Leia didn't mind. If she was lucky enough to win any of her nominations, she didn't need Taylor there to thank her - she would know it was about her anyway.

Azul walked beside her in silence, duffel slung over one shoulder, the ever-present weight of awareness in his posture. He never really dropped it, even now, even with no paparazzi at the gate and no itinerary in his hands. Leia could feel the tension in him the way she always did, like a wire pulled tight but silent.

She glanced sideways as they approached the steps. He hadn't asked a single question all morning. She knew he was confused - why were they leaving New York City at almost 3am to go to Los Angeles, when the awards weren't until tomorrow night? 

"I told you to pack your sneakers, so I hope you have," she said finally, voice light but tinged with mischief. "Don't ask questions, remember?"

Azul gave her a look - one eyebrow raised just enough to register amusement beneath his usual restraint - but didn't respond. He'd known her too long to take the bait.

Leia smiled to herself and kept walking, the soft hum of jet engines growing louder as they neared. She felt it under her ribs, that pulse of nerves that only came when she was doing something quietly meaningful. Azul wasn't a man who wanted anything, which meant the things you gave him had to matter. You had to choose well. Deliberately.

As they reached the stairs, she stopped just before the first step, turning to face him. The wind lifted a strand of hair from her cheek and whipped it against her mouth. She brushed it away and nodded toward the plane.

"They're already onboard," she said softly. "Some familiar names, I think."

Azul's brows drew slightly, but he said nothing. Just watched her with that unreadable calm that had once driven her mad - until she realised it was how he protected everything. Himself included.

Leia climbed first, her fingers skimming the handrail, her own Converse clunking softly on the narrow steps. She could hear voices now - low, male, laughing. Someone said something in Spanish and was answered with a curse and boisterous laughter. Leia smirked to herself, turning back to look at Azul who was following her up the stairs with a confused look.

When she stepped through the cabin door, warmth hit her like a balm - soft lighting, leather seats, wood trim polished to a quiet gleam. And five men already scattered across the cabin, drinks in hand, bags shoved into corners, sneakers kicked off with unapologetic comfort as they cheered upon noticing Leia and Azul entering the cabin.

"Boys," Leia said, voice lifting above the chatter as she stepped inside. "We've got a groom incoming."

"Hey!" Raj called, raising his glass like it was a wedding toast. "Finally!"

Azul appeared behind her, stepping into the cabin with that deceptively casual movement that still managed to check every angle of the room in two seconds flat. He scanned the group — familiar faces — and for a moment, Leia saw it. The flicker of something across his expression. Recognition. Gratitude. Surprise, maybe. It passed quickly, but it was there.

The men inside were a constellation of Azul's life outside of Leia - all men with sharp edges softened by old loyalty. Raj, a former British Army medic turned high-end private security, had met Azul during a his last client and claimed they'd trauma-bonded over espresso. Dante, all tattoos and deadpan one-liners, had crossed paths with Azul while consulting for an elite security firm in Rio De Janeiro, though he mostly joked that he stuck around because Azul had better playlists. 

Luis, the ex-boxer with a laugh like thunder, had worked events with Azul in Miami and referred to him only as 'AJ'. And Marcus, quiet as always, was a longtime contact from Azul's current friendships in NYC, the kind of man who moved like background noise until he needed not to. Leia had met him once or twice over the years. Together, they looked like a roster from a high-budget action film - but they greeted Azul with the ease of brothers.

And then of course...

Drew, Taylor's main guy, stood and crossed to Azul first, clapping a hand to his shoulder with a brief nod. 

"About time you let us celebrate your ass."

Luis whistled from the back. "You really did it, huh? Somebody's marrying this guy?"

"Poor Riven," Dante deadpanned. "He still has time to fake his death."

Azul gave a slow exhale, the kind he only ever let out when something was hitting deeper than he could say. Then he turned to Leia, his voice lower now. 

"You didn't have to do this. Throw me a surprise bachelor."

Leia met his eyes - steady, quiet, and something vulnerable stirring just beneath her grin.

"I know," she said simply. "But I wanted to."

She didn't look away. Not from the moment, not from him.

And for once, Azul didn't retreat into silence. He just nodded once, the smallest smile touching his mouth.

Besides, Leia had been at Riven's bachelor party the week before - a far more civilised affair involving champagne brunch, front-row seats to a revival on Broadway, and a discreet round of cocktails she'd insisted on paying for. Georgie had cried during the final number, Taylor had sung along under her breath to most of Act II, and Riven had beamed the whole time before disappearing that evening to meet his family for a second celebration upstate. 

It had been soft and sentimental, exactly what Riven needed. And she'd made sure Azul was not there too - not shadowing doorways or checking exits. She'd looked him dead in the eye and said, "You're not working tonight. Don't even think about it."

Leia stepped aside, letting him be enveloped by his people. She felt the warmth spread through the cabin as they ribbed him, handed him a drink, told a story that was probably half made-up but entirely theirs. It filled the space with something she hadn't realized she missed — not celebrity, not spectacle. Just belonging.

She sank into one of the plush chairs by the window, resting her elbow on the armrest and her chin against her hand, watching the interaction unfold like a quiet observer of something rare. Her phone buzzed in her bag - she ignored it. The engines rumbled underfoot as the pilot announced their flight time to Los Angeles.

Azul caught her eye just once across the cabin. He gave her the smallest nod.

Leia smiled, soft and slow. 

____

By the time they had landed, chucked their bags into the hotel that morning and pulled into the private entrance of Universal Studios Hollywood, the sun was already high enough to bounce heat off the concrete and cast long, dramatic shadows across the lot. 

Leia stepped out of the rented van first, blinking against the light, sunglasses sliding into place as the others piled out behind her in a blur of athletic T-shirts, tactical sneakers, and the kind of built-in awareness that made them all look for a second like they were casing the park instead of here to enjoy it.

"Right," she said, turning back to face the group, tucking her hands into the pockets of her linen shorts. "This is a VIP day. That means line skipping, backstage perks, and if I see even one of you try to do crowd control, I'm turning that jet back around."

Azul gave her a faint smirk, standing just behind her with his hands loosely clasped behind his back.

Raj popped a protein bar and tossed her one mid-air. "You're gonna need fuel."

She caught it instinctively, looking at the label. Almond and sea salt. 

"How thoughtful. Nothing screams vacation like omega-3s."

"Watch it," Luis warned, stretching out his shoulders like they were about to run an op instead of ride a simulator. "By lunch, you'll be begging for electrolytes."

Drew leaned over to Marcus, murmuring something Leia didn't catch, and they both cracked a smile, quiet, but genuine. It was surreal, almost, seeing them like this. Relaxed, unarmored. Still watchful, but less rigid. No radios, no headsets. Just guys in sunglasses trying to act like they weren't lowkey thrilled to be here.

Azul hadn't said much since they'd landed, but he kept catching her eye in that way that didn't need words. It was in the way his hand brushed his chest like he was still wearing a comm. The way his shoulders eased when she smiled.

She nudged him with her elbow. "I told them you used to talk about this place like it was the only place on Earth that mattered. Don't make me look like a liar."

That earned a real laugh this time. Brief, rough around the edges, but real. "You remembered."

Leia gave him a sidelong glance. "I remember everything."

Their tour guide, a soft-spoken woman in a Universal polo and aviators, greeted them with the kind of careful friendliness reserved for the rich, the famous, or the dangerous. Possibly all three. She handed them lanyards and wristbands, barely blinking at the group of six intimidating men and one tiny pop star in designer sneakers.

The day blurred into movement - curated, ridiculous, wonderful.

Jurassic World came first. Azul insisted on sitting in the front row like a child on summer break. Leia, sitting beside him, shrieked when the T-Rex lunged toward them and the splash hit her legs, soaking the hem of her shorts. The men roared with laughter, Dante filming the moment with military precision.

"You're disgusting," she told him, wringing out her sleeve.

"Souvenir," he shrugged, saving the clip anyway.

They hit The Mummy next - because apparently, again, no one could resist watching Leia scream like she was being exorcised.

"That wasn't a ride," she gasped afterward, leaning against a railing with one hand pressed to her chest. "That was a controlled trauma response."

Marcus clapped her on the back gently. "Respect. You stayed conscious."

Drew turned out to be an embarrassing Fast & Furious stan. He quoted the entire intro of the Supercharged ride verbatim with zero irony and left Leia slack-jawed.

"You did not just say 'ride or die' with your whole chest."

Drew, stone-faced: "Family."

Raj bought a wand at the Wizarding World - "for his niece," allegedly - and spent a suspicious amount of time testing spell gestures. Luis drank two frozen butterbeers and refused to admit he liked them. Azul tried on a Hufflepuff scarf "as a joke" and wore it for the next forty minutes. There was a full group selfie taken outside Hogwarts castle, where they all threw up tactical finger signs like they were about to raid Gringotts.

Cameras were turned in their direction a few times, especially when Leia would stop to pose with one of the guys - and they'd started to develop a habit of picking her up as an inside joke each time.

Leia let it happen.

More than that, she leaned into it. She let herself laugh when Raj tripped over a child-sized bench. She let Dante hand her a churro and insisted it was tactical carb-loading. She let herself be carried by the energy of the day, chaotic and loud and unfiltered. There were moments she forgot who she was, or maybe remembered, depending on how you looked at it.

Halfway through lunch at a shaded patio outside the Transformers ride, she caught Azul watching her - not protectively, not suspiciously. Just... watching. As if trying to take in the sight of her laughing into her drink while Luis mimicked Optimus Prime, voice low and booming.

She looked at him, raised a brow. "What?"

He shrugged. "You seem happy that I am happy."

Leia blinked, then smiled, soft, unexpected. "I always am."

The rest of the afternoon spun out in a golden haze... backstage tours, photo ops, ride re-runs. Leia's feet were sore by the time they got back to the hotel, her voice rough from yelling, her hair a wind-tangled mess. And still, she wouldn't have changed a thing.

____

The hotel lobby smelled like citrus and marble polish - that clean, opulent kind of scent designed to reassure wealthy people they'd made the right booking. Somewhere nearby, piano jazz trickled out of a hidden speaker, the kind of ambient music meant to blend into silence. 

Leia sat cross-legged on a low velvet couch, sipping a cucumber-infused vodka and soda water from a heavy glass that the concierge had offered, and was watching the sun sink through the glass entrance like a gold coin melting into the horizon.

She'd showered an hour ago. Now she was dressed and waiting, heels kicked off for the moment, legs stretched out in front of her. The silver dress shimmered in the lobby lights - fitted just enough to feel dangerous, with a slit climbing her thigh and a neckline that defied the idea of subtlety. Her ponytail was slicked back to sharp perfection, and she was loving the feeling of looking this great for no other reason than because she wanted to.

She felt powerful.

Azul's reflection appeared in the elevator doors before he did, a tall silhouette in a dark blazer, no tie, collar open. For a second, Leia wondered if he'd show up in his usual uniform — low profile, functional, boring. But no. He looked like someone on the cusp of a different life tonight. Not a bodyguard. Not her shadow.

Just Azul.

When he stepped fully into view, he paused for a second and then broke into a grin and pretend cat-whistled.

"Damn," he said, low and almost reverent. "Taylor's going to wish she was here when she sees photos of you tonight."

Leia grinned without looking up. 

"Back off, she's territorial."

He walked toward her, shaking his head with a faint smile, and Leia patted the spot beside her. He sat, slow and solid, the kind of presence that made rooms feel anchored.

"You look good," she said, nudging her knee against his and leaning against him comfortably as he settled beside her. "Like, actually good. Not just good for someone who carries pepper spray in their sock."

Azul rolled his eyes, but the compliment landed. She saw it in the way his shoulders eased, just slightly. In the way his hands rested flat on his thighs instead of curled and ready.

For a moment, they didn't speak. Just sat there, side by side on the plush couch while the hotel murmured around them. She could hear the faint ding of an elevator down the hall. The soft click of distant heels. The city readying itself for the night.

Then Leia said quietly, "I know I joke about being your problem..."

Azul turned to her.

She didn't look back at him, not right away. Her eyes traced the chandelier overhead. The shimmer it cast along the polished floor. 

"But I really hope I've never made your job harder than it had to be. With everything that's happened."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was just... full. The kind of quiet that held things too fragile to name.

Then Azul said, very simply, "You never made it harder."

Leia finally looked at him. He met her gaze, steady as ever.

"You just made it matter."

Her throat tightened, sharp and sudden. She smiled through it. 

"Jesus, Azul. You're gonna make me cry before we've even left the lobby."

He gave her a sideways look. "You wore that dress to cry in it?"

She sniffed once. "Good point."

Azul stood, smoothing his jacket with one hand, and offered her the other. 

"Come on. Let's go drink overpriced vodka and pretend we're invincible."

Leia slipped her feet back into her heels — the silver ones, strappy and dangerously high — and took his hand as she stood.

As they headed toward the front entrance, Drew and the others came down the stairs in loud, scattered pairs. Luis was still adjusting his watch. Raj had changed into something suspiciously stylish. Marcus and Dante were already arguing about whether they needed a rideshare or a Suburban.

Drew gave Leia a once-over and smirked. "Careful, Hudson. You're gonna start a bar fight dressed like that."

Leia shot him a look over her shoulder. "You wish."

He grinned. "Taylor's gonna kill me if anyone even looks at you tonight."

"I'll kill you first if you start trying to be a bodyguard tonight and not Azul's best man," Leia said sweetly, and linked her arm through Azul's as they stepped out into the California night.

The sky was deepening into velvet - pink giving way to indigo, the first stars flickering above the sprawl of West Hollywood. Somewhere beyond the skyline, music was already rising from rooftop bars and neon-lit clubs. Leia could feel the pulse of it under her skin.

She fucking loved this life.

____

The club didn't have a name - well, not one on a sign, anyway. Just a discreet brass logo etched into the black brick of the building, tucked between a high-end sushi place and a private gallery no one could afford to walk into. Tons of camera flashes came from outside as they stepped out, the group of paparazzi who camped out here on a regular basis perking up as soon as they recognised the pop-star that stepped out with the six men. 

The bouncer didn't check their IDs. He didn't even pretend to pretend. One nod from Leia and they were inside - swallowed by bass, glitter, and the unmistakable perfume of exclusivity.

Leia stepped through the door like she was shedding her old skin. The lighting was low and golden, all warm shadows and high cheekbones, punctuated by the occasional flare of phone cameras from VIP booths and velvet-curtained alcoves. Everything smelled like citrus, sweat, and champagne. Her heels clicked along the polished floor as she followed the group toward their table, the sounds of the night crashing around her like a tide: laughter, clinking glass, a remix of something she recognised but couldn't name.

The VIP section was roped off in the back corner... a horseshoe of low couches, scattered pillows, and one massive table already lined with bottle service menus no one would read. Raj immediately went for the couch, sprawling like he was at home. Luis started eyeing the nearest waitress. Drew took the edge, posture casual but eyes scanning the room with that unshakable bodyguard instinct. Dante and Marcus disappeared briefly to scout exits, despite Leia's best wishes that they just relax.

Azul? Azul laughed. Actually laughed. A full, open, head-tipped-back laugh as Luis pulled him into a mock-wrestling headlock and shouted something about "old man reflexes." Leia had never seen him like this - not in public. Not with the world right outside the glass.

She took it in quietly, settling into a corner of the booth, dress shimmering beneath the club lights, one arm draped across the velvet cushion, the other wrapped loosely around her glass of champagne that Drew had poured and passed out to them all. 

Someone put in a bottle order. Someone else grabbed a phone to pick the next song. A girl in a plunging dress tripped on the stairs up to the DJ booth and took a bow like it was intentional. Everything sparkled. Everything pulsed.

Leia couldn't stop smiling.

This was the kind of chaos she used to avoid. Too loud. Too crowded. Too many ways to get it wrong. But tonight? With these men? With Azul sitting across from her, flushed and loose in the face, gesturing animatedly as he told a story involving an Albanian prince and a collapsing balcony? She felt safe. Unlikely, but true.

She slid off the couch after a while, deciding she wanted to see the bar. The guys were absorbed in whatever game they'd invented involving shot glasses and flicked olives. Drew raised an eyebrow as she stood.

"Solo mission?" he asked.

Leia smirked. "Recon."

"Try not to disappear."

"No promises."

She slipped into the crowd, shoulders brushing strangers, her dress catching the light like silver oil. She could feel eyes on her - not in a predatory way, just that subtle recognition that came from too many years being famous, almost-scandalous, almost-everything. She carried it like perfume now. 

The bar was three deep in people, but she slipped in at the corner, where the lighting was softest and the bartenders worked fast. She leaned on the edge of the counter, the cool marble grounding against her bare forearms, and waited.

But then the guy showed up.

She clocked him the second he leaned in — too close, too casual, the kind of confidence that came from money or ego or both. Mid-thirties, blazer fitted just tight enough to suggest he cared more about the mirror than the conversation. He wore a grin that didn't reach his eyes, and cologne that burned.

"You alone?" he asked, already leaning into her space.

Leia didn't move. "Just waiting on a drink."

"Let me get it," he said smoothly, gesturing for the bartender like he already owned the moment. "You look like a tequila girl."

"I'm good," Leia said, her voice calm, polite — the kind of no that should've ended the interaction.

But he didn't step back. Instead, he leaned in further, one hand pressing to the bar behind her, the other hovering near her waist like he was debating the placement. His arm was close enough that she could feel the heat of his jacket sleeve brushing her skin. The position wasn't overtly aggressive, but it didn't have to be. It was designed to box her in.

"You sure?" he murmured, mouth near her ear now, voice low like they were sharing a secret. "One drink's not gonna kill you."

Leia turned her head slightly, trying to edge away from his breath, sharp with mezcal and ambition. Her hand tensed around the strap of her bag.

"I said I'm fine."

"Come on," he said again, like they were playing. His smile widened as he shifted his weight forward, boxing her in with both arms now — one braced on the counter, the other grazing the back of her barstool.

Leia's breath went tight in her chest.

Not panic. Just frustration. Familiar. Infuriating. The kind that lit her nerves with cold clarity. She tilted her body back, spine barely brushing the counter behind her, but there wasn't much room to go. He was too close now. Not threatening, not quite. Just entitled. And oblivious to every single cue she was giving him.

She didn't want to make a scene. She didn't want a confrontation. But she was one second away from raising her voice and one more from throwing her drink in his face.

"Do you know who I am?" She hummed, tilting her head with a fake smile.

He looked at her, confused at the confidence she was exerting towards him.

"Eh, sure? You're like, that popstar-"

"Which means I'm much more important and relevant than you, so if you don't take your fucking hands off me right now, you'll have a lot more problems in your life that your receding hairline and obvious lack of social awareness and game."

A familiar presence stepped into her periphery before the man could even reply - steady, composed, and radiating that unmistakable stillness that came just before things got handled.

Drew.

He slid between them without force, just placement as one arm looped around Leia's shoulder like they'd walked in together, his body angling between her and the man in the blazer with precision honed over years of training. It wasn't loud. It wasn't threatening. It just was.

The man, who had been gaping like a fish after Leia's takedown, took a step back from them both as his face flushed bright red with embarrassment. 

"She's good," Drew said, voice quiet but flat. No room for argument. Not a suggestion, but rather a statement of fact.

The man blinked, startled again as he looked at the muscles on Drew's arms, the way his head was tilted, his defensive stance. His eyes flicked from Leia to the hand resting lightly on her shoulder, then back to Drew's unreadable face. There was a moment where Leia thought he might push it.

Then he stepped back. Muttered something under his breath and disappeared into the crowd.

Leia exhaled, slow and shaky, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders like air from a balloon.

"Thanks," she murmured, not quite meeting Drew's eyes as she adjusted the strap of her dress, fingers brushing where the man had been standing.

Drew kept his arm there a beat longer - a shield, not a grip. "You didn't need me, you had it covered. Figured back-up was helpful though."

Leia nodded once. Her mouth opened to say something else, but then he added, voice still low, "Also we have about three phones on us just now."

That made her glance up.

"Seriously?"

Drew nodded, steering her gently away from the bar as a new wave of music pulsed through the speakers - deeper, slower, a remix of something sultry. "They probably got audio of your takedown. Definitely got the vibe, too."

Leia rolled her eyes, tension bleeding into something more relaxed. That would be a Riven problem when he was back tomorrow.

"God forbid a woman exists in public without being offered liquor by creeps or posted on the internet."

"Or both," Drew said.

He didn't press further. Didn't scold or ask if she was okay because he knew she was fine. Just walked with her through the crowd, clearing space like a steady current in a river of sequins and noise. Leia followed in his wake, heels clicking, shoulders squared.

When they reached the VIP booth, the energy had shifted again - louder, looser, warmer. Marcus and Dante were slouched against each other arguing about the difference between "vibing" and "flirting." Raj was deep in a game on his phone and simultaneously managing a round of drinks. Azul was leaned back into the couch with one ankle crossed over his knee, watching the floor like it was a theatre stage.

And Luis - oh, Luis.

He was mid-dance with a woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a perfume ad: long legs, heels sharp enough to cut diamonds, hair coiled into a glossy crown. She was laughing... genuinely, somehow... as Luis attempted what could only be described as a mixture of salsa and very confident dad moves. His shirt was half-untucked, his grin too wide, and his rhythm? Boldly inconsistent.

The woman twirled once, then leaned in to whisper something in his ear, lips barely brushing his jaw. He threw both fists in the air in triumph like he'd won the lottery, and she threw her head back laughing.

Leia dropped into the seat beside Azul, breath finally steady, still slightly flushed from the bar encounter. She looked out at the dance floor and raised one brow.

"Does he know she's way out of his league?" she asked.

Azul didn't look at her, but his smirk was slow. "Oh, he knows. He's just hoping she doesn't realise until after they've exchanged numbers."

"She's playing with him."

"She's doing God's work."

Leia leaned back, letting herself relax again, shoulder brushing Azul's as she stretched her legs out. Someone handed her a new drink - vodka and coke with a wedge of lime this time. Her glass from earlier had mysteriously vanished.

Azul glanced at her sideways before taking her phone and moving slightly from his spot.

"What?"

He didn't answer. Just raised her phone, snapped a quick picture of her with the flash off, then another from a slightly different angle.

Leia blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you in some good trouble..."

He tapped away after he stopped taking photos, smirking a little before reaching it out and holding it out for her. She reached for her phone, screen lighting up with unread messages from earlier, most of them group chats, a few from her team - and there, glowing at the top like a live wire, she could see exactly who he'd been tapping away to.

Taylor.

The photos he'd taken and then sent weren't subtle. One was from the side, her head tilted, neck exposed, the silver dress falling perfectly over her frame. The second was worse... or better, depending on how you looked at it... her lips parted slightly, lashes low, caught mid-laugh with the glittering club lights behind her. It looked like... something from Taylor's private camera roll.

Seductive, suggestive....

Leia grinned, air catching in her throat as she shot Azul a side look, figuring his game here. A minute passed. 

Then her phone buzzed.

you're going to kill me.

Leia shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other, her dress sliding higher on her thigh. She angled her camera and snapped a photo of her legs, shimmering under the table, one hand resting lightly on her knee. The dress dipped low enough to show a hint of cleavage. Her face was just barely in the frame - eyes half-lidded, lips bitten pink.

She sent that one too.

A moment later:

i'm in a silk robe and suddenly it's the worst outfit i've ever worn.

Leia smirked.

take it off then.

i will if you tell me what you're wearing under that dress.

Leia exhaled slowly, heart now beginning to pound - not with panic, but with that delicious coil of anticipation that always started in her chest and slithered downward when Taylor got like this.

nothing. felt like letting the dress do all the talking tonight.

This time the pause was longer. When the reply came, it hit like fire:

i want to drag that dress up over your hips and kiss every inch you didn't show them.

Leia's breath stuttered. She crossed her legs tighter.

please. come home tonight and let me fuck you until you forget the name of that club.

Leia felt it in her stomach first - then lower. She shifted in her seat, Azul sending her a side glance as he rolled his eyes while sipping his beer, knowing exactly what he'd started. Drew sniggered from the other side of the table, having caught on too. The rest of the guys - sans Luis who was now full on making out with that girl on the dance floor - looked between them in confusion. 

Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed:

you're going to make me misbehave in front of our boys.

call me when you're back. not done with you.

Leia locked her phone, tucked it back in her clutch like it had become dangerous to keep holding. Across the table, Azul watched her with a knowing look - not nosy, just amused.

"You good?"

Leia didn't even try to suppress the wicked little smile pulling at her lips.

"I'm going to be."

_____

The rooftop was merciless.

It was too bright. Too still. The kind of morning that clung like humidity to your skin, wrapping everything in sun-bleached silence and the faint, unrelenting thump of dehydration.

Leia lay splayed across a sun lounger like she'd washed ashore, one arm thrown over her stomach, the other dangling a half-melted ice cube she was too lazy to put back in her water glass. Her sunglasses were too dark. Her head was too loud. Her bikini - a pale lavender two-piece with gold rings at the hips - looked a lot cuter than she felt.

Azul was already halfway through his third set of laps. His arms carved through the water with soldierly precision, barely rippling the surface. He swam like someone who didn't drink three cocktails, two shots, and an aggressively sized bottle of champagne the night before.

Leia hated him for it.

Beside her, Drew sat upright on the next lounger, a towel draped loosely around his shoulders and a battered copy of The Godfather in his hands. Of course Drew read The Godfather by a pool. Of course he looked perfectly unbothered while Leia felt like a sun-drenched raisin in the aftermath of spiritual combustion.

"Didn't take you for a rooftop girl," Drew said casually, not looking up from his book.

Leia groaned. "I'm not. I'm a post-mortem ghost lying in state."

He cracked the faintest grin, eyes scanning the page.

He cracked the faintest grin, eyes scanning the page.

They sat in silence for another few minutes. Leia closed her eyes, trying to sink into the fabric of the lounger, melting past the mild nausea and the buzzing leftover adrenaline from the night before. She was thinking about Taylor's last text — "wear that dress again for me so I can take it off you" — when Drew spoke again.

"Out of curiosity," he said, tone light, "were you alone in your room last night?"

Leia didn't move for a beat. Then slowly, she tugged her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and turned her head just enough to look at him.

"What?"

Drew was still reading and not looking up at her.

"I said, were you alone last night?"

Leia blinked. "Yes... obviously?"

Drew turned a page.

"You were on the phone?"

Leia sat up a little, something coiling behind her ribs. "With Taylor."

"Right."

There was another beat of silence. Then Drew said, with an air of unbothered finality:

"The walls aren't soundproof."

Leia blinked. The words didn't register at first - or rather, they floated somewhere above her like distant radio static, strange and out of place under the sun.

Then it hit her. Hard.

She turned her head slowly, like maybe if she didn't make any sudden movements, the moment would vanish on its own. Drew hadn't even looked up from his book. He said it so casually, like they were talking about weather. Or pool chlorine. Or her inevitable death due to embarrassment.

"I'm sorry?" she croaked.

Drew tilted the page slightly to catch the light. "Just saying."

Leia's stomach dropped, hot and cold all at once. "You heard?"

"Not everything," he said mildly, and somehow that was so much worse.

Her eyes went wide behind her sunglasses. "Define 'not everything.'"

Drew finally looked over, face unreadable in that calm, terrifying bodyguard way. "Enough to know you have a thing for praise."

Leia sat upright too fast and immediately regretted it. Her head throbbed. The sun spun. Her heart was now attempting a solo drumline against her ribcage.

"Oh my God," she whispered, dragging her hands down her face. "Oh my actual God. You heard."

Drew didn't smile. Didn't smirk. He just nodded, like this was a perfectly reasonable morning conversation.

"It was hard to miss," he said, turning back to his book. "You're surprisingly articulate under pressure."

Leia let out a strangled sound - somewhere between a wheeze and a scream —-and collapsed backward into the lounger, throwing an arm over her face. "I'm going to walk into the ocean. I don't even care how far the coast is. I will find it. I will enter it."

She could hear Azul kicking softly through the water. Somewhere across the rooftop, a door creaked open. The city below thrummed obliviously.

Drew turned another page. 

"I mean, I'm not judging," he said lightly. "But I do work for her."

Leia didn't say anything else. She just let her soul leave her body in silence.

And then, from across the pool:

"And what the hell time do you think this is?"

Leia jolted upright as Drew glanced over her shoulder with mild amusement.

Riven was storming across the pool deck in designer sneakers and a violently patterned shirt, aviators perched on his head and rage written into every step. His bag was slung over one shoulder, a coffee in one hand and his phone clutched in the other like a weapon.

Azul stopped mid-lap and squinted. "Oh no."

Leia blinked at him. "What do you mean oh no-"

"You absolute goblin," Riven snapped, pointing at her like he was issuing a court summons. "I told you. I told you that if you insisted on doing Azul's bachelor party last night - on the night before your monumental historic Grammy night, no less - you had to be ready for the prep schedule I sent when I landed this morning. And yet—" He gestured wildly at her body like it personally offended him. "I walk into this penthouse, and what do I find? Not a glowing popstar getting ready for glam. No. You. Hungover. In a bikini. Comatose. By the pool."

Leia opened her mouth. Closed it. Adjusted her sunglasses and leaned back into the lounger, voice dry as hell. 

"Nice flight?"

Riven didn't blink. "You're dead to me."

"She had a long night," Drew offered mildly.

"Oh, I know," Riven said, rounding the lounger now like he was about to launch into a second act. "Because I was pulled aside by the absolutely lovely General Manager just as I arrived to ask that next time you decide to stay here, to ensure that you turn the penthouse master bedroom front desk intercom off, instead of on - since it seems you seemed to think it was the light switch last night before you picked up the phone to Taylor."

Leia buried her face in her towel. "I'm not here."

"You will be," Riven snapped, already dialing someone on his phone. "Because if your ass isn't upstairs and in glam within twenty minutes, I swear to God-"

Azul hoisted himself out of the pool with a splash and a sigh. "Should we tell him we're also out of shots?"

Riven turned on him like a vulture. "Don't you start. You were supposed to keep her alive."

"I did," Azul replied. "She's breathing. That's a win."

"Not enough breathing to be presentable," Riven muttered, already pacing toward the elevator.

Leia peeked out from under the towel. "Is now a bad time to ask for a breakfast sandwich?"

Riven didn't answer. The elevator doors slammed shut behind him.

Silence. Drew finally lowered his book again and looked at her.

Leia sighed and covered her face once more. "This is why I don't leave the house."

"Based on what I heard last night... I think Taylor is more of that reason-"

"Shut up!"

_____

The room glittered like it had a pulse.

Lights refracted off crystal and sequins, bounced from chandelier to champagne glass, swirled across gowns like a storm made of gold. Leia sat still in the front row, spine perfectly straight, but her fingers toyed with the heavy fabric of her dress - a deep, almost-black green that shimmered oil-slick blue when the lights hit it. Her stylist had called it "dangerous elegance." Right now, she just felt human in it. 

The camera was trained on her face. She knew that. Knew how to hold her mouth in a near-smile, knew how not to blink too much, how to tilt her chin slightly so the tears that had been threatening since her second win wouldn't spill and ruin the liner that had taken an hour to get right.

Her name had been called again and again tonight. Best Pop Vocal Album. Record of the Year. And now... this. The final award of the night.

Album of the Year.

She'd almost convinced herself she wouldn't win.

It was easier that way. Safer. Leia knew what it was like to lose, and what it was like to win and not feel it. She'd built a career on learning the difference. But something in the air tonight - maybe the tension in Riven's posture beside her, maybe the way so many sets of eyes had been on her all evening - told her this was going to be different.

The presenter opened the envelope.

Leia didn't hear her name right away. Just the way the crowd gasped, then broke into cheers. Just the way Riven gripped her hand so tightly she almost dropped her champagne flute. Azul cheering so loudly from a few tables away that she knew she had done it.

"Go," he whispered, and she was already standing.

The room felt like slow motion and fast-forward at once.

Her heels clicked against the stage steps. The spotlight made her blink. She passed faces she half-knew, all of them beaming - even the artists that she'd been pretty sure didn't even like her that much. And then she was behind the mic, the applause rising around her like a tide.

She stared at the statue in her hand. It was smaller than it looked on TV. Her heart beat like wings.

She leaned into the mic. The room stilled.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to this," she said, her voice rough with disbelief. "I don't think I want to."

A low, knowing laugh rippled across the room. Leia exhaled slowly, fingers curling tighter around the award.

"When I started this album," she said, "I didn't think I'd finish it. Not because I didn't have the songs, or the studio time, or the support - though honestly, some days it felt like I didn't have any of that either - but because I didn't know if I deserved to say what I needed to say. There was a time when I thought my voice only mattered when it sounded good. When it was clean, rehearsed, perfect. But perfection's not the point. Perfection never saved me."

She smiled, just a little.

"This album came out of something very messy. And very human. And I think that's what makes it mine. Truly mine."

A longer breath. She let the silence stretch. Not awkward. Intentional. Sacred.

"And I want to say something now that I wish someone had said to me when I was younger. When I was scared to speak up, or to push back, or to demand what I deserved."

She stepped slightly closer to the mic. The shadows curled behind her like velvet.

"Artists deserve to own their own work."

That landed. Audible breath. Nods. A quiet "yes" from somewhere near the front. She could see a few of the music execs grimace a little - knowing exactly the battle that she was referencing.

"We deserve to protect our voices, our stories, our truths. And we deserve an industry that doesn't punish us for doing that."

Leia didn't blink.

"I know what it costs to fight. I know what it takes. I know how lonely it can be when you make a choice that upsets the people holding the contracts. But I also know that when you make something honest - when you make something that means something - it's worth protecting. And it's worth sharing."

She looked out over the room again. Faces blurred in the lights. The shimmer of pride, and tears, and something unnameable blooming in her chest.

"I hope this industry continues to evolve. I hope we all keep pushing for spaces where the next generation of artists don't have to fight just to own their names. I hope we keep making room for the bold, for the broken, for the ones who don't fit in any box but still dare to sing."

She smiled.

"And... I want to end this by dedicating this award. Not to my team, though I love you more than you know. Not to the industry, though I'm grateful beyond words. But to the one person who made this possible."

Leia's voice wavered then. Just for a moment. But she didn't shy from it. She breathed into it.

"To the person who reminded me that life doesn't have to be survival. That love isn't just a concept you sing about - it's something that finds you, breaks you open, makes you brave."

A hush had fallen over the room now. You could hear breaths held. You could hear nothing but her voice. She pressed the Grammy to her chest.

"This belongs to you just as much as it does me," she said, voice soft but clear. "Because without you, there would never have been an album."

She let the silence stretch again - just enough.

"I love you. And you know who you are."

It wasn't an admission. It was a confession. And it echoed like thunder in a room made of glass. She nodded once as she mouthed a thank you again with tears in her eyes, stepped back from the mic, and exhaled like she'd finally released something she'd been holding in for years.

Applause roared. Some people stood. Riven was on his feet already, eyes glassy but face set like granite. Somewhere in the balcony, a blonde woman stood too, hand pressed to her heart.

Leia walked offstage into the dark wings, the statue still clutched in her hand, her heart racing in a way that didn't feel like fear anymore.

It felt like freedom.

Backstage, everything was motion. People congratulating her. A rush of handlers. Cameras. But Leia only caught snatches of it. A blur of sound and light. Her ears rang. She found a quiet corner, ducked just behind a curtain where no one was looking. Pressed her forehead to the cool concrete wall.

Her phone buzzed in her clutch.

She pulled it out with shaking hands.

I'm in the hotel already. Come home to me.

Leia smiled, tears finally breaking loose and sliding hot down her cheeks. She thumbed back quickly.

On my way. It's yours. All of it. Always has been.

She closed the message. Let the screen go dark.

Then she lifted her head, wiped her face, and turned toward the noise again.

Because now it wasn't noise anymore.

Now it sounded like the future.

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guys... she owns them all :) i could cry (and i did cry)