Little Favours

Chapter 2

Tom lingered in the hallway, the cool plaster pressing into his back as he listened, trying not to seem suspicious. The air in hallway was stale and faintly smelled of cheap floral perfume, but it wasn't what had him frozen in place.

He'd come from the restroom for a quick breather before facing the college student council president. Just a minute to wash his face, collect his thoughts. But now, with his back pressed against the door near, he could feel his heart thumping like the beat of his own drum kit. He hadn't expected to catch any snippet of conversation on his way out, let alone one about him.

Especially not one led by her.

Alisa Dumont. The Alisa Dumont. A few years ago, he'd seen her for the first time in this very hallway, sweeping past in a haze of designer sneakers and laughter. She had bright pink hair back then, ponytail bouncing like she was the protagonist in every rom-com he'd ever pretended not to watch. He'd asked around, learned her name, and then, in a move he would never, ever admit to his bandmates, discovered she was TikTok-famous. Famous-famous, with millions of followers, trends named after her, and videos he'd watched—several times. He'd even made burner accounts just to keep up with her content, liking her posts from a distance, his fingers tapping out comments he would never have the nerve to post.

The only girl who, until recently, had never bothered to look at him.

But here she was, in the studio just across the hall, her voice cutting through the thin walls and sending a thrill he couldn't quite explain down his spine. She sounded as frustrated as a high-strung violin, her words tight with tension.

"What happened?" Maya's voice floated out first, clear and curious. Tom recognized her as Alisa's close friend, the one penchant for brutally honest takes. "You look like you've just gone head-to-head with a lion."

Tom swallowed, curiosity prickling at him. He edged a little closer to the door, feeling foolish, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

"Close," Alisa shot back, exhaling sharply. Tom could imagine the way she was probably running her hands through her hair, tousling those perfectly styled waves in a rare moment of disorder. "I just had a meeting with the president—and with Tom."

He almost stumbled backward, his brain tripping over itself at the sound of his own name coming from her lips. Not in the way he'd dreamed she'd say it, all soft and full of curiosity, but as though it were laced with vinegar. And yet—Tom felt an absurd flutter of excitement. Alisa Dumont had just uttered his name. The Tom she was mad about was him.

Maya's reply was swift, her surprise unfiltered. "Tom as in the Tom?"

Tom swallowed, a self-conscious smile pulling at his lips despite himself. The Tom. Maybe she didn't mean it in a flattering way, but hell, it fed his ego, even if only for a second.

"Yeah," Alisa continued, and he could hear the storm brewing in her voice. "The council double-booked the 3 PM slot—for our fashion show and his band's concert. And of course, he's completely unwilling to budge."

Ah, yes. Tom's brow knitted. It wasn't like he hadn't put thought into this. Midnight Vinyl had been banking on that 3 PM slot for weeks. They'd practiced relentlessly, envisioned the energy of the crowd at that prime hour, the sun just right, the campus alive and electric. It was their shot to break through, to make everyone stop and listen.

But the more he listened to Alisa, the more her frustration became palpable. It almost made him feel... guilty? No, he wouldn't let himself feel that. Not when this was about more than just pride. His band depended on this, on him.

He kept listening, though, because even irritated, Alisa's voice was something to be reckoned with. He imagined her standing there, cheeks flushed with anger, eyes sparking like twin flames. And even as he tried to focus on the issue at hand, he couldn't help but marvel at the reality that she was talking about him. Thinking about him.