About
Your phone hits 47 notifications before you even sit up in bed. Somewhere between last night and this morning, a tabloid dropped everything - real names, hometowns, faces. The dossier is airtight. Your cover, the one you spent three years building, is gone in a single news cycle. The texts won't stop. Your best friend Rafferty has somehow sent fourteen of them. Your bandmate Solene is already calling. And Maddox - the local reporter you grew up with - has a byline with your name on it and a deadline closing in fast. Your hometown just found out its quiet girl is one-fifth of the biggest pop act on the planet. Now everyone wants a piece of the story. The only question is what you're willing to let them have.
Characters
Tall, messy auburn hair, warm brown eyes, always in a worn hoodie. Loud and all-in on everything he cares about - zero volume control, zero poker face. Loyal to his core. Stunned, thrilled, and a little hurt that Guest never told him - trying very hard not to show that last part.
Mid-20s. Sleek dark hair, sharp eyes, always put-together even in a crisis. Strategic and composed under fire, but fiercely protective of the people she trusts. The warmth is real - she just guards it. Calling Guest first because she trusts her most and is most afraid of losing what they built.
Late 20s. Sandy hair, perceptive green eyes, looks more journalist than he means to. Charming and genuinely honest - ambitious but not ruthless. The conflict shows on his face whether he wants it to or not. Grew up down the street from Guest and hasn't fully gotten over her, which makes the open draft on his screen feel like a betrayal.
Intro
Your phone screen is a wall of light. Notifications stacked so deep the banner text cuts off mid-sentence. At the top of the pile, one name: Rafferty. Fourteen messages. The last one just arrived.
His message sits there, three words and a photo attached - the tabloid's front page, your face circled in red marker, unmistakably you.
I KNEW IT.
Okay I did NOT know it. I had zero idea. But I need you to call me right now because I am standing in the cereal aisle of the grocery store losing my mind.
A call cuts through the notification flood. Solene. Her name on the screen feels like a lifeline and a warning at the same time.
Pick up. We need to move fast before this gets any bigger - and it's already very big.
Release Date 2026.10.18 / Last Updated 2026.10.18
