Behind The Beat

VI - The Road Home

The early morning sun streamed through the curtains of Rozalie's room, casting a soft, golden glow. She stirred awake, her eyes fluttering open to the quiet stillness of Val's apartment. The clock on the bedside table read 7:15 AM, far earlier than she usually rose. Sleep had been restless, her mind brimming with thoughts.

Rozalie slipped out of bed, careful not to make any noise, and grabbed the papers she'd brought with her from the interview. Settling onto the floor near the small desk in her room, she spread out her notes and began going through the videos she'd taken. Her laptop hummed softly as she clicked through the files, replaying snippets of the band's rehearsal, the conversations, and the energy she'd tried to capture in her interviews.

She lost track of time as she worked, editing the footage with focused precision. Cutting, splicing, and rearranging, she crafted the narrative she wanted to tell—one that felt genuine to her experience and the band's personality.

Two hours later, a light knock on the door startled her.

— Morning — Val's voice came, warm and teasing. Rozalie turned to see her standing in the doorway with a plate in her hands. — Figured you might be hungry.

Rozalie blinked, momentarily confused before realizing how much time had passed. She glanced at the plate and her stomach rumbled loudly, betraying her. She laughed sheepishly.

— I completely forgot breakfast was a thing. Thanks, Val.

— No problem. What're you working on? — Val grinned, stepping into the room and handing her the plate.

Rozalie gestured toward the laptop as she took a bite of toast.

— Just editing some of the footage from the interview. I'm trying to piece everything together before it starts feeling stale, you know?

Val leaned over her shoulder, watching the screen for a moment.

— Looks good — she said, her tone genuinely impressed. — You're putting a lot into this.

Rozalie shrugged, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

— I just want to get it right.

Val smiled, straightening up.

— You will. So, hey—I was thinking — she began, changing the subject — if you're up for it, we can head out in about an hour to grab your stuff. I can make us something for the road before we leave.

— Sounds like a plan. — Rozalie perked up at the suggestion, nodding eagerly.

True to her word, Val had a small assortment of snacks ready by the time they packed the car—sandwiches, fruit, and a thermos of coffee that smelled divine. They hit the road mid-morning, the city gradually giving way to open highways and rolling landscapes.

The drive was long but comfortable, filled with easy conversation and bursts of music from the stereo. Rozalie couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about the idea of Val seeing her home—a space she'd kept so private for so long.

Four hours in, Val let out a sigh, her hands flexing on the steering wheel.

— I think I might need a break soon — she said, glancing at Rozalie. — This is killing my back.

— I can take over if you want. I've driven plenty of long trips before — Rozalie smiled.

Val raised an eyebrow, considering her for a moment before nodding.

— Alright, deal. But if you're a terrible driver, I'm taking back over immediately.

They swapped seats at a quiet rest area, and Rozalie slid behind the wheel, adjusting the seat and mirrors.