Page 15 of Rhythm and Rapture

"And she called us lurkers," I add, feeling oddly called out. "With a smirk emoji."

"Wait," Felix says suddenly. "How does she even know we're really Fractured Theory? Anyone could claim to be us."

"Shit, you're right," I mutter. "We need to?—"

My phone buzzes again.

The Hidden Chemist: Also, I’m going to need some proof that you're actually who you say you are. For all I know, you're three creeps in a basement pretending to be musicians. Video response required.

"She's smart," Felix observes unnecessarily.

"Video response," Ash is already setting up his phone. "Perfect. We can?—"

"Not you," I interrupt. "You'll say something about her fishnet stockings and ruin everything."

"I would never!" He pauses. "Okay, I might. But come on, she owns really nice fishnets."

"I'll do it," I say, taking the phone. But then I freeze. What do you say to someone who just called you out for lurking in their streams?

"Just be yourself," Felix suggests, reading my hesitation. "The guy who writes lyrics at 3 AM because the words won't leave you alone."

"The guy who quoted her own fears back to her," Ash adds, surprisingly serious.

I nod, hit record, and try not to think too hard about it.

"So, apparently we're lurkers now," I start, and I can hear Ash snickering off-camera. "Though I prefer 'dedicated academic observers.' We've been watching your streams for months, not gonna lie about that. But it's not... it's not what you think."

I run a hand through my hair, a nervous habit. "That night you talked about being scared to fall apart? About knowing all the theory but being afraid to experience it? You were quoting our lyrics, but it felt like you were reading our minds. Or maybe we were reading yours when we wrote it."

"Tell her about the collaboration!" Ash whisper-shouts.

I flip the camera to show him and Felix. "That's Ash being subtle. And Felix pretending he's not invested when he's already mentally composing bass lines inspired by chemical formulas."

Felix flips me off, but he's smiling.

I turn the camera back. "As for the collaboration - we're serious. Music, chemistry, whatever creates the right reaction. We're..." I pause, looking for the right words. "We're interested in more than just the performance. We want to know the person who can make molecular bonds sound like poetry."

"And who has excellent taste in lab coats," Ash yells.

"I'm ending this before he embarrasses us further," I say quickly, but I'm grinning. "Ball's in your court, S."

I send it before I can overthink it.

"Was that too much?" I ask.

"It was perfect," Felix says. "Honest without being creepy. Interested without being pushy."

"Plus you showed your 3 AM songwriter hair," Ash adds. "Chicks dig the tortured artist look."

Her response comes two minutes later—another video.

The camera is clearly propped on her dashboard, California highway visible through the windshield. She's not showing her face directly—the angle captures just her mask and below, like she's being careful about recording while driving.

"Dedicated academic observers," she laughs, and the sound does something to my chest. "I'll allow it. Though I have to ask - months? Either I'm more interesting than I thought, or you three have very specific tastes in entertainment."

A car passes and she checks her mirror before continuing. "Sorry for the mobile setup. Three-hour drive to handle some work stuff. And before you worry - yes, I'm being safe. Mostly stopped traffic on the 101, which is basically a parking lot at this point."

She adjusts the phone slightly. "The lyrics thing... that wasn't planned. Sometimes the truth just slips out when you're not expecting it. Like now, admitting that I've maybe listened to your music on repeat while grading papers. For the rhythm, obviously."

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