The message popped up as Isadora was brushing her teeth, hair a tangled mess and her hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
She leaned over to check her screen.
New message from Kaulitz_Tom04.
> hey
you free tomorrow?
i wanna take you out
just you & me
nothing loud
promise
Her stomach did a full 360.
She wiped her mouth, flopped back into her chair, and typed:
> you asking me on a date?
in full lowercase?
bold move, rockstar.
A second passed.
Then another message:
> alright, fine
Isadora Costa
will you go on a date with me tomorrow
pls respond i'm very fragile
She laughed. Alone, in her bedroom, with a stupid grin on her face.
> i'll think about it
you free now?
webcam on?
A minute later, her ancient Logitech webcam clicked to life with a soft buzz. The video was grainy, green-tinted, and kept freezing every few seconds.
Then-
Tom. Hoodie still on. Headphones halfway falling off. His room behind him was a cluttered explosion of clothes, CDs, posters, and a half-eaten pizza box.
He smirked when he saw her.
"You look tired," he said, voice crackling through her tiny speakers.
"You look like you haven't cleaned your room since birth," she shot back.
"Touché."
There was a pause. Not awkward - just full. Like they were both sitting in it, feeling it.
"Why do you wanna take me out?" she asked, suddenly quieter.
He leaned back, arms behind his head. "'Cause you're not like anyone else. And I don't just mean the way you play."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't look at me like I was a poster," he said. "Or a rumor. You just... looked. And I haven't felt that in a long time."
Her cheeks flushed. She was glad the webcam sucked at showing color.
They talked for hours after that. About nothing. About everything.
Favorite records. Dumb fan encounters. Her old dog in Brazil. His habit of losing lighters. They argued about who was cooler: Kurt Cobain or Billie Joe Armstrong. (Neither backed down.)
By 2:47 a.m., Isadora was curled up sideways in her chair, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, eyes fighting sleep.
Tom's voice came through, softer now. "So... tomorrow?"
She nodded, barely awake. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
"Cool."
A beat.
"Night, Isadora."
"Night, Tom."
She didn't log off.
She just fell asleep with her head on the desk, the screen still glowing.
---
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...
