A Song Between Us | Chapter One

 One

Emilia hated clubs.

The pounding music, thick heat, and overwhelming mix of sweat and perfume clinging to the air. It was sensory overload in all the worst ways. She’d much rather be curled up in her favourite corner at home, sipping a glass of wine with a book in hand, or even chipping away at the mountain of coursework she’d been putting off. Anything but this.

But here she was, pressed against a sticky bar top, drink in hand, surrounded by all the things she disliked. At least the cocktails were decent, and the live band didn’t suck.

She had Tiffany to thank—or blame—for this. After two consecutive weekends of turning down invitations, Emilia had run out of excuses. Tiffany wasn’t accepting another no.

Tiffany, of course, thrived in such places. She was everything Emilia wasn’t: loud, fearless, magnetic. The kind of person who made an entrance without trying. They’d been inseparable since their moms plopped them beside each other in a sandbox at three years old, and not much had changed since.

Emilia leaned against the bar, sipping a vodka soda, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips as she watched Tiffany on the dance floor, hips swaying with effortless rhythm. Her friend was definitely feeling the effects of the pre-drinks. She’d probably regret this tomorrow, but tonight, Tiffany was fully in her element.

She waved down the bartender with a practiced ease, ordering a beer like she owned the place. Then, with a tipsy grin, she leaned close to Emilia. “See? Not the worst way to spend your night,” she shouted over the music. “Just wait until you hear the next band. They’re an amazing cover band. And the drummer?” She gave a dramatic sigh. “I’ve heard he’s super hot.”

Emilia rolled her eyes and laughed under her breath. They moved to a small table near the back. Tiffany tapped her foot to the beat while downing the rest of her drink, her gaze bouncing between the stage and Emilia like she could barely contain her excitement.

“Thank you, everyone!” the current lead singer called, as the band finished their final song. Emilia realized she didn’t even know the name of his band. “Up next, we’ve got Fallen!”

A wave of squeals erupted from the crowd near the front. Tiffany bounced in her seat. “This is the band!” she squealed.

The lights dimmed. Excitement rippled through the room like a current. A new lineup stepped onto the stage. A bass player, two electric guitarists, a drummer, and then, last to emerge, the lead singer. He walked to the microphone, turning to check on his bandmates as they got into position.

A single spotlight flicked on. A guitar strummed, slow, deliberate, like a tease, and the crowd stilled in anticipation. Emilia leaned forward slightly, curiosity stirring. The rhythm pulsed through the floor, settling in her chest.

Then he turned around.

The stage lights brightened just enough to illuminate him. His hair was tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it moments ago. He wore confidence like a second skin, with the kind of posture that said he was made for this.

His eyes were green and sharp. They caught the light in a way that made her breath stutter. He smirked as he stepped forward, his movements casual, yet dangerous. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to the crowd.

“Hey, everybody! We’re Fallen,” he said, voice low and electric through the microphone. “We’re kicking things off with a cover of Midnight Rush. Let’s go.”

Tiffany grabbed her hand, dragging her toward the dance floor. Emilia followed without resistance. Her thoughts were still tangled somewhere between the singer’s voice and that piercing gaze.

The music crashed to life. Drums, bass, guitar—loud and alive. The crowd moved as one, bodies swaying, hands in the air, faces lit with joy.

Emilia felt it too.

The heat, the music, the thump of the bass in her ribs, it cracked something open. Her limbs loosened, and for the first time since arriving, she stopped trying to shrink away.

Then his voice rolled over her again. A slow burn, rough, but smooth in the right places. Like velvet draped over gravel. It wasn’t just that he was singing the lyrics, it was like he was casting them. Each word felt like it was aimed at her, though she knew that was ridiculous.

Still she looked up at the stage again, unable to help herself.

The whole band was tight, energetic, connected, but the lead singer owned the space. He didn’t perform; he commanded. Everything else in the room faded to the edges.

There was something about him. Something that made her pulse quicken. A feeling she couldn’t quite name.

He was probably used to this. Girls staring. People falling all over themselves for his attention. But when his eyes swept the crowd and skimmed over hers, lingering just a beat longer than necessary, her breath caught.

No. That was probably just the lighting. Or the vodka soda.

Tiffany nudged her with a playful bump of her hip, flashing a grin. Emilia laughed, the spell breaking long enough to let herself dance.

Her books and responsibilities would still be there tomorrow. Her carefully ordered life. Her quiet mornings and neat little plans.

But tonight, there was only the rhythm in her chest.

And the echo of his voice, already stitching itself into the corners of her mind.