The streetlights outside flickered orange as Isadora unlocked the apartment door. The scent of garlic and onions drifted through the air - her mom was cooking feijão preto again. Comfort food.
She kicked off her boots, dropped her guitar case in the hallway, and rubbed her temples. The van ride home had been full of Nina's teasing and Memphis and Calvin obnoxious burps. She was still buzzing from the show... and from him.
"Oi, Isa," her mom called from the kitchen. "Come set the table, menina."
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Tá bom, mãe."
They ate at the tiny kitchen table, the one with a cracked tile and mismatched chairs. Her mom talked about work - cleaning at the clinic had been a mess today, someone spilled coffee on the waiting room couch again - and Isadora listened, nodding, chewing quietly.
"You look tired," her mom said.
Isadora shrugged. "Long show. Loud crowd."
Her mom tilted her head. "But you're smiling."
Was she?
After dinner, she helped wash the dishes - by hand, of course. No dishwasher in their place. After drying her hands on a threadbare towel, she padded down the hallway to her room, shut the door, and threw herself on the bed, staring at the posters taped to her wall: Avril. The Hives. Silverchair. Her life in color and sound.
She booted up the family's old desktop - a clunky HP tower that groaned and whirred like it was waking from the dead. The CRT monitor lit up slowly, casting a blue glow across her room.
She opened her email. Checked the fan forum.
Nothing new.
Then, suddenly-
"You've got a new message."
From a name she didn't recognize right away:
Kaulitz_Tom04
Her heart hiccuped.
She clicked it.
> Subject: last night
From: Kaulitz_Tom04
hey.
you said maybe.
i'm hoping this is that maybe.
- tom
She stared at it.
Short. Simple. Totally him.
No emoji. No overthinking. Just... him, reaching out.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She typed, erased. Typed again.
> Subject: Re: last night
hey.
didn't think you'd actually message me.
isa
She hit send.
Then leaned back in her chair, heart pounding harder than it had on stage.
Outside, the city buzzed like always.
Inside, something had just shifted.
YOU ARE READING
"Strings Between Us
Romance2004. Germany. Tom Kaulitz is used to getting what he wants - the stage, the crowd, the girls. As Tokio Hotel begins to rise, so does his ego... until she shows up. She's the Brazilian guitarist in a rival band - quiet, sharp-tongued, and completely...
