Brandon's POV
There was no way I could focus in class—not today. My mind was a wrecking ball, crashing through every thought and leaving chaos behind. Everything felt off. I needed to cool down before I lost it.
Casey and I had already gone at it this morning, and practice had been a disaster. The guys were clearly fed up with my head being all over the place. I couldn't think straight—my mind just kept drifting.
I saw my brother Seth walking down the hallway, side by side with her—Chloe, the redhead. They looked… familiar. Too familiar. Like they'd been friends forever. How was Seth so chill with someone he barely knew? And why did it bother me this much?
What really got under my skin, though, was the way everyone stared at her. All eyes, all whispers, like she was already some kind of legend. That didn't make sense. She didn't seem like the type who'd make waves. But somehow, people knew her.
While taking out some books, I overheard some kids talking by the lockers.
"She was a big name at her old school."
"I heard she disappeared after winning that fashion contest."
Seriously? That Chloe? Either they were talking about someone else, or this girl had secrets—and I planned to find out.
At lunch, I sat with the guys. They noticed right away. I wasn't exactly being subtle.
"You good, man?" Pete asked, giving me that look.
"You've been off for days," he added. The concern in his voice cut through me.
They weren't wrong. I wasn't the type to mess around with what I loved—and music was everything to me. Always had been.
I found music through my grandpa. He had this old ukulele, used to sing me lullabies. Those songs stuck with me. After he passed, music became my therapy. The first song I ever wrote was for him.
Pete, Jason, Oliver—we'd been tight since kindergarten. Our bond only grew stronger when we started making music. We sang acappella in eighth grade, and in high school, we leveled up. Mr. Pat, our music teacher and old-school rock fanatic, helped us shine. He believed in us more than anyone.
"You boys are made for Broadway," he'd say. "The sky's not your limit—it's your launchpad."
We got our name, 'The Beach Boys,' after playing our first gig at a beach party. Seniors invited us, we killed it, and the name just stuck.
But lately, I'd been slipping. And I knew it.
I looked around at the guys and sighed. "I'll fix this. I'm sorry for zoning out, for dragging us down. Just got some stuff going on at home. But I'm back, alright? I swear."
They smiled, nodding, and we dapped it out, throwing in our usual ridiculous animal sounds for good measure.
"We're back, baby!" Oliver grinned.
That was when Casey walked in.
"What about me?" she asked loudly. "Don't I deserve an apology too?"
The table went dead silent. Everyone knew Casey was drama on legs. The guys had warned me when I started dating her, but I hadn't listened. Now, I regretted it.
I didn't want a scene, so I gave her what she wanted. "Yeah, I'm sorry."
"For what exactly?" she pushed, eyes narrowing, hungry for more than just a vague apology.
"For brushing you off this morning," I admitted. My voice was low, but it still managed to draw everyone's attention at the table. Just great. Casey got the spotlight she was silently demanding, and now every pair of eyes was locked on us. Me? I wanted to disappear into the floor.
I tried to shake the tension off, to laugh it away, when someone cracked a joke—"I think I need a celebrity girlfriend"—and everyone erupted in laughter. Everyone except Casey. Her silence cut through the noise louder than any shout.
I should have been worried about her mood swings, the way she suddenly flipped from charming to cold. But I wasn't. My mind was on someone else entirely.
Chloe.
Her first day was supposed to suck. New place, new faces—it should've been overwhelming. But no. She was fitting in like she'd been born for this place, and something about that unsettled me.