When chance encounters in the studio transform into cozy coffee dates, leading to spontaneous rendezvous, simmering jealousy, and perhaps even love.
RENEÉ RAPP X FEMALE OC
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
FRANKIE
The studio door swung open with a familiarity that usually comforted me, but today, it felt like the prelude to some twisted romantic comedy—one I hadn't signed up for. I was there to lay down beats, not hearts, yet there she was, Reneé Rapp, standing in Alexander's sound sanctuary like she owned the place.
"Ah, Frankie! Perfect timing," Alexander announced, his arms outstretched as if I'd just walked into a surprise party rather than a Tuesday morning session. "I want you to meet someone properly."
"Hi," I managed, my voice betraying a hint of nervousness I didn't even know existed within me. We both knew this introduction was just a formality—we'd already crossed paths—but Alexander's enthusiasm was as infectious as ever.
"Reneé, this is Frankie, our musical genius behind the console." He beamed at me before turning his grin to her. "And Frankie, this is Reneé Rapp, the voice that's about to blow your mind."
Her laugh was easy and genuine, and damn it, she looked good. Really good. The kind of good that makes you forget words like 'hello' or 'nice to see you again.' But I didn't have time to dwell on that because Reneé's energy filled the room, demanding attention without even trying.
"Hey, Frankie. I heard you did some magic on my track the other day," she said, her eyes holding mine with an intensity that made me feel seen in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
"Ah, just a few tweaks here and there," I downplayed, scratching the back of my neck—a telltale sign of my unease.
"Those 'tweaks' were brilliant," she countered, her smile somehow both challenging and warm. "Actually, I was hoping we could collaborate on something for my album?"
The suggestion hit me like a bass drop, unexpected and reverberating through my chest. Work with Reneé? The idea was as enticing as it was intimidating.
"Uh, yeah, that would be... cool," I stammered out, cursing my sudden lack of eloquence. My mind raced—I had sessions booked back-to-back, not to mention the project with Troye Sivan—but her proposal sparked something in me that I couldn't ignore.
"Thing is, I'm kind of swamped right now," I admitted reluctantly, watching her face for any signs of disappointment. "Maybe in the future?"
"Sure, I get it. Timing is everything," she replied, nodding understandingly, though I spotted a glint of mischief in her hazel eyes.
"Still, I'm always up for talking music," I added quickly, feeling a rush of boldness. "Alex, you can give her my number, in case she wants to throw some ideas around sometime."
"Consider it done," Alexander said with a wink, and I wondered if he was playing matchmaker or just really loved networking.
"Thanks," Reneé said, her voice smooth as silk, and for a moment, it was just the two of us in the room, connected by the prospect of notes and lyrics yet unwritten.
With a final nod, I turned to leave, my heart pounding an erratic rhythm. The studio no longer felt like just a workspace—it had become the backdrop to something new and entirely unpredictable.
RENEÉ
As Frankie's silhouette disappeared through the studio door, I felt a twinge of disappointment tighten in my chest. The idea of creating something with her had sparked an unexpected excitement within me — one that wasn't entirely professional.
"Too bad she's booked up," I mused aloud, trying to sound nonchalant.
Alexander shot me a knowing look, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't sweat it, Reneé. She's interested. And FYI, I've already pinged her number to your phone."
"Smooth operator," I quipped, rolling my eyes at his eagerness. The thought of having her number made resisting a flirtatious joke so much harder. 'Hey Frankie, got your digits without even asking. Smooth, huh?' No, no. Too forward.
"Keep it cool, Rapp," I reminded myself as I lounged back against the leather sofa later that evening. My apartment was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the city nightlife seeping through the open window. The soft glow of my phone screen illuminated thoughts racing through my head. Should I text Frankie? A playful message could set the tone, but after Alissa, I promised myself some drama-free fun. Flirting with Frankie would be like playing with fire – thrilling but potentially hazardous.
Frankie getting all flustered earlier though, that was downright adorable. The way her green eyes darted away, her cheeks dusted with pink... it stirred something mischievous within me.
"Live a little," I murmured, thumb hovering over the 'New Message' icon. But then, restraint settled in like an unwelcome chaperone. Texting her now could come off too strong, too eager. We're potential collaborators, not college kids swiping right.
"Instagram, less intense," I muttered, changing apps with a decisive swipe. Scrolling through Frankie's profile, I took in glimpses of her life: snapshots from recording sessions, candid laughter, the occasional scenic run. Her world seemed genuine, unfiltered.
"Follow," I tapped firmly, sending the virtual equivalent of a nod across the digital ether. It wasn't a text, but it was something—a small step toward whatever this dance between us might become. A harmless move, yet somehow it felt daring, like I'd just winked at her across a crowded room.
"Let's see if you wink back, Frankie," I said into the silence, a playful challenge hanging between the heart icon and me.
