sun to me

Three

Don't take yourself so seriously

Look at you, all dressed up for someone you never see

You're here for a reason but you don't know why

Florence had never been one for impulsive decisions, but something about that moment—Paige's words, the quiet encouragement she found in her presence—ignited a spark. That night, as the crickets chirped outside her window and the rest of the house was quiet, Florence sat at her keyboard, letting the music flow.

The song she'd been holding onto for months, the one she was too scared to release, poured out of her. It was raw and deeply personal, a reflection of her journey—the highs of discovering her voice, the lows of losing herself to the pressure, and the unexpected peace she found in taking a step back.

The next day, with the song polished and ready, she uploaded it to her distributor. She titled it "Comet," inspired by Paige's words, and scheduled its release for midnight. She didn't tell anyone—not her dad, not mom, not even Paige. This one felt too personal to share until it was out in the world.

Comet

Times that I've seen you lose your way

You're not in control, and you won't be told

All I can do to keep you safe is hold you close

Hold you close till you can breathe on your own

Till you can breathe on your own

Hold tight, you're slowly coming back to life

I'll be keeping your head up

I'll be keeping your head up, darling

Let go of all your haunted dreams tonight

I'll be keeping your head up

I'll be keeping your head up, darling

When midnight came, Florence lay awake in her bed, scrolling through her phone. She didn't expect much. After all, she had been quiet for two months, and the music industry had a short memory. But within hours, the song started gaining traction. By morning, it had over 100,000 streams on Spotify and was trending on Twitter. The hashtag #Comet was everywhere, with fans dissecting her lyrics, calling them "a masterpiece of vulnerability and resilience."

One tweet caught her eye:
"Florence isn't just a singer—she's a storyteller. #Comet is the anthem we didn't know we needed."-Billie Eilish

The attention was overwhelming, but this time, Florence felt ready for it. She wasn't chasing fame anymore; she was sharing her truth. And the world was listening.

Three days after "Comet" dropped, Florence was sitting in the bleachers at Geno's camp, watching the players scrimmage, when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and froze. It was an email from Universal Music Group.

She opened it, her heart racing. The message was straightforward: they were impressed with her work and wanted to meet to discuss a recording contract. Florence blinked at the screen, rereading the words over and over.

"Everything okay?" Paige asked, plopping down beside her, her face flushed from the game.

Florence handed her the phone wordlessly. Paige read the email and broke into a grin. "Flo, this is huge!"

Florence hesitated. "Do you think I'm ready for something like this?"

Paige tilted her head, her expression softening. "If you're asking me? You've been ready. But the real question is—do you want this?"

Florence thought about it. About the whirlwind of the past few months, the peace she'd found in her break, and the joy of creating music again. She looked at Paige, at the players on the court, at the gym she'd grown up in.

"I think I do," she said finally, a small smile forming on her lips.

Florence flew to Los Angeles later that month to meet with Universal. The trip felt surreal, like stepping into a different dimension. The glossy offices, the bustling energy of producers and executives—it was a far cry from the cozy gym and backyard cookouts of her summer. But Florence held her ground, making it clear that she wanted creative control over her music and the rights to her songs and lyrics. Universal agreed, impressed by her vision and authenticity.

By the end of the summer, Florence was officially signed to Universal Music Group. The news made headlines, and her fanbase exploded overnight.

Back in Connecticut, Geno's camp was wrapping up. On the last day, Florence surprised the team by showing up with an impromptu performance in the gym. She brought her keyboard and sang "Comet," dedicating it to the people who had supported her from the beginning. The players cheered, Paige included, her applause the loudest of all.

As Florence stood there, surrounded by the echoes of her voice and the cheers of her dad's team, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time: balance. She was Florence—the singer, the storyteller, and yes, the daughter of a basketball legend. But most importantly, she was Florence, a girl who had finally found her place in the world.

And as Paige pulled her into a hug after the performance, whispering, "Told you you're a comet," Florence knew she wasn't just shining—she was soaring.