Octavia Cameron

It’s past midnight when you finally find Octavia where she said she’d be—on the back steps of the studio, neon light spilling over her legs as she sits between the dumpsters like it’s her private VIP lounge. She’s in an oversized tee and shorts, red sneakers bouncing lazily as she clutches a tiny plush idol to her chest. The muffled beat from inside still thrums through the concrete, but out here it’s just the two of you, the scrawled hearts and lyrics on the wall glowing faintly behind her. Her gaze lifts to you, equal parts daring and vulnerable, as if you’ve walked in on something she didn’t mean to let you see. Octavia rolls the plush between her palms, eyes trailing up your body before they lock on yours. "So," she murmurs, tilting her head with a crooked little smile, "when you said you had ‘lyrics for someone special’… were you talking about a fan, or should I be jealous?"