LOVE GALORE: CHAPTER TWO
Los Angeles, California.

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The alarm buzzed sharply at 7:30 a.m., pulling Salem from a restless sleep. She groaned, burying her face in the couch cushion. The sun was already streaming through the windows, painting the room in shades of gold and white. She hadn't meant to fall asleep on the couch, but the thought of climbing into her bed last night felt like too much effort.

The muted sound of the TV still played in the background, a rerun of some early morning cooking show. Salem stretched, her body protesting, and then dragged herself upright. She rubbed her eyes, grabbed her phone, and saw the reminder blinking at the top of the screen:

10:00 AM – Studio Session with Steve Lacy.

She groaned again but swung her legs over the edge of the couch. Steve's text from the night before resurfaced in her mind—Got something special for you. If it were anyone else, she might have canceled and spent the day in bed. But Steve was different.

She's known him for years, during his The Internet days and even considered him as a close friend.

In the kitchen, she made a quick cup of black coffee and sipped it as she stared out at the city below. The morning haze was beginning to lift, and the streets were already alive with activity. It grounded her, reminding her that while she felt stuck, the world kept moving.

After a quick shower, Salem pulled on a pair of high-waisted jeans, a cropped black tank top, and her favorite leather jacket. She twisted her hair into a loose bun and skipped makeup, letting her freshly scrubbed face breathe.

By the time she grabbed her car keys and slid into her sleek black Range Rover, it was nearly 9 a.m. Traffic was its usual mess, but she didn't mind. The hum of the engine and the cityscape whizzing past gave her a sense of peace.

When she arrived at the studio, Steve was already there, lounging on a couch in the corner with a guitar in his lap. He looked up and grinned as she walked in.

"Finally," He teased. "Thought you were gonna bail on me."

"Don't tempt me," Salem shot back with a smirk, dropping her bag by the door.

The studio was cozy, filled with warm lighting, and scattered with instruments, notebooks, and empty coffee cups. It felt lived-in, a creative space where time seemed to dissolve.

"So, what's this 'something special' you've got for me?" Salem asked, sitting on the edge of a stool.

Steve strummed a few chords on the guitar, his eyes glinting with excitement. "I started working on this track, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. It's got your vibe all over it. Thought we could build it out together."

He played a riff, smooth and soulful, and Salem felt her chest tighten. It was hauntingly beautiful, the kind of melody that felt like it could carry an entire story on its back.

"I'm vibing with it," She said softly.

"Good. Let's make some magic."

The studio buzzed with quiet energy, the kind of electricity that hummed in the air when creativity was about to strike. Steve Lacy was sitting cross-legged on the couch, plucking the strings of his guitar. The sound was tender, and soulful, with a vulnerability that wrapped itself around the room.

Salem sat on a stool nearby, tapping her pen against a blank notebook. She watched Steve's hands as they moved effortlessly, coaxing out a melody that felt both intimate and raw.

"So we've agreed on calling it Sunshine," Steve said, his voice soft but sure. "It's about... well, you know how it goes. Running into someone you thought you were over and realizing you're definitely not."

Salem arched a brow. "Art imitating life, huh?"

Steve laughed, a little self-consciously. "Something like that. Got the first verse and the chorus down, but I feel like it's missing something. Thought you could help fill in the gaps."

He played the opening riff again, the notes stretching out like a confession. Then he sang, his voice smooth and aching:

"Lookin' like it's all catchin' up to you lately. Been a couple months since I told you, "It's over". Caught me off guard when I saw you last week."

The first verse hit like a bittersweet wave:

"Oh so tough, but you bluffed when you had me. Sayin' "My ex" like my name ain't Steve
Gave you a chance and some dopamine. Safe to say, after me you peaked. Still'll give you dick anytime you need."

Salem felt a lump form in her throat. There was something devastatingly real about the song. It hit too close to home—closer than she was willing to admit.

"Okay," Salem began, clearing her throat. "I see where you're going. What if..." She hesitated, chewing on the cap of her pen. Then the words came, almost unbidden:

"Admit that I was a loss. You're takin' it just as hard. Criticize me all you want."

Steve stopped strumming and looked at her, eyebrows raised. "That's good. That's really good."

Salem shrugged, trying to play it cool, but her heart was racing. The words had slipped out too easily, born from a place she hadn't touched in years. She could feel the ghost of her own heartbreak in them—those sleepless nights, the fights that spiraled out of control, the quiet moments of doubt that lingered long after.

Steve picked up the melody again, weaving her lyrics into the pre-chorus. His voice melded with the guitar, and when Salem sang it back, the emotion in her voice caught her off guard.

"Let's record that," Steve said quickly, sensing the momentum.

They dove into the session, Salem's voice blending with Steve's in a way that felt effortless like the song had been waiting for them to find it. By the time they finished, Sunshine had transformed into a haunting ballad, a conversation between two people caught in the web of their unresolved feelings.

They spent the next few hours building the song from the ground up. Salem scribbled lyrics in her notebook while Steve layered beats and harmonies. It was the kind of collaboration she lived for—organic, electric, and effortless. By the time they took a break, the sun was high in the sky, and the song was starting to take shape.

Steve leaned back in his chair, wiping sweat from his brow. "You're a genius, you know that?"

Salem rolled her eyes. "You're not so bad yourself."

They laughed, and for the first time in days, she felt lighter, the weight of her thoughts easing just a little.

"Back to work!"

Finally plenty of hours later, when they played back the final take, the room fell silent. Salem leaned back against the stool, staring at the speakers as her voice and Steve's poured out of them.

"You killed that pre-chorus and everything altogether," Steve said, breaking the silence. "It's like you're inside my head or something."

Salem laughed, but it sounded hollow to her ears. "Just good at reading the room, I guess."

He didn't press, and she was grateful.

—

Later that afternoon, Salem returned home, her energy renewed but her body exhausted. She tossed her keys on the counter and collapsed onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The song they'd worked on replayed in her head, the melody lingering like a ghost.

She thought about texting Chloe, but before she could reach for her phone, it buzzed with a new message:

Mina: Quick update on a potential project—call me when you're free.

Salem sighed, her moment of calm interrupted. She typed a brief reply—Will do—before setting the phone down.

As the evening crept in, she found herself thinking about Chloe's words from the night before. Maybe she did need to get back out there if only to remind herself what it felt like to live beyond her career. But the idea of dating again felt overwhelming, like opening a door to a part of her life she'd carefully sealed shut.

She stared at the words, chewing on the end of her pen. Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe it was time to stop running from the past and start figuring out what came next.

For now, though, she let the quiet fill the space around her, her pen scratching softly against the paper as the night stretched on.