The cafeteria at Chelsea Academy buzzed with the usual midday chaos—students jostling for positions in the lunch queue, the clatter of plastic trays, and the constant hum of overlapping conversations. Amias sat at his usual table near the windows, picking at his food while scrolling through his phone.
A shadow fell across his table, and he looked up to see Zara standing there, her curly hair pulled back in a loose bun, her uniform notably more pristine than most of the other students'.
"Those braids are proper," she said, sliding into the seat across from him. "Like, actually proper. When did that happen?"
Amias ran his fingers lightly over the intricate pattern. "Last night. Had to get sorted for the video shoot."
"So you actually did it?" Zara's eyebrows shot up as she unpacked her lunch—a neatly arranged container of couscous salad and grilled chicken that made Amias' cafeteria pizza look even more questionable. "I thought you were just ssing when you texted ."
"Nah," Amias said, putting his phone away. "Everything's moving quick. Shot the video last night."
Zara studied him for a mont, her dark eyes searching his face. "You're serious about this, aren't you? The music thing?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "But I'm trying to be smart about it. Set things up properly, you know? Make it a business from the start."
A smile tugged at the corner of Zara's mouth. "That's why you texted at midnight about logos and branding?"
"Exactly," Amias said, leaning forward. "I need to get all that sorted before I even think about putting anything out."
Zara took a bite of her salad, chewing thoughtfully before responding. "Well, I've been thinking about it, and I reckon I'll need at least fifty grand up front. Plus royalties, of course."
Amias stared at her. "Fifty grand?"
"Per design," she added, her face perfectly serious for two seconds before breaking into a grin. "Your face right now..."
Amias shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Greedy fam. Greedy"
"Maybe," she shrugged, "but I did stay up for two hours working on so ideas." She pulled out her tablet from her bag, swiping through the lock screen. "I already made so stuff."
"That fast?" Amias leaned closer. "I literally just texted you last night."
"I know," Zara said, her eyes fixed on the screen as she navigated through her files. "And I told you I'd have sothing ready by lunch, didn't I?"
That was Zara—always delivering exactly what she promised, often before you even realized you needed it. It was why she was the only person from outside his imdiate circle who knew about his connection to Oakley. She didn't gossip, didn't use information as currency like so many others at Chelsea Academy. With Zara, a secret stayed a secret.
She turned the tablet toward him, revealing a grid of logo designs. "I did so variations. AM, AMN, Mars63, EmptyAnt... just playing with different concepts."
Amias scrolled through the images, genuinely impressed. Each design was distinct—one incorporated a stylized car silhouette, another used his initials in an abstract pattern. There was even one that cleverly incorporated elents of both London and Texas, a subtle nod to his dual heritage.
"Zara," he said finally, looking up at her. "These are cold. Like, professional-level cold."
She shrugged, but couldn't hide the pleased smile that crept across her face. "You expect anything less from the best?"
"Never," Amias replied, returning to the tablet. "Can you send all of these? I need to think about which direction to go."
"Already done," Zara said, tapping her phone. "Check your email."
They fell into a comfortable silence as Amias continued examining the designs. This was how it often was with them—easy, uncomplicated. No performance, no front. Just two people who understood each other.
After a while, Zara broke the silence. "So, what's going on with you?"
Amias looked up, confused. "What do you an?"
"I an," she said, leaning back in her chair, "what's going on with you? And don't say 'nothing' because I know that face."
"What face?"
"That face," she pointed at him with her fork. "The one where you're trying to look all casual but you're actually overthinking everything."
Amias sighed, setting down the tablet. "How do you always know?"
"Because I pay attention," Zara said simply. "So?"
Amias hesitated, then decided to be honest. "You hear anything about today? In the halls or whatever?"
Zara's expression shifted, becoming more guarded. "Maybe. Sothing about you and a certain soone getting cozy at your cousin's studio?"
Amias groaned, running a hand over his face. "News travels fast."
"It's Chelsea Academy," Zara replied dryly. "Gossip is the main currency here." She paused, studying him. "So... you and Temi are a thing now?"
"No," Amias said quickly—too quickly. "I an, we..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain what had happened on that balcony.
"You don't have to tell ," Zara said, her voice neutral. "I was just curious."
Amias looked at her—really looked at her. Zara had been his friend since forever, since the days when his Arican accent was strong and made him a target for teasing. She was the one who'd helped him navigate the complicated social hierarchy of British secondary school, who'd explained the slang he didn't understand, who'd defended him when others tried to isolate him.
And she was the first girl he'd ever tried to impress, back when they were younger and had t at an arcade in Westfield. He'd spent all his pocket money trying to win her a stuffed animal from one of those claw machines, only for her to gently explain that she wasn't interested in dating anyone until she turned eighteen.
At the ti, he'd thought it was just a polite rejection. But then he'd watched her turn down every other boy who approached her with the sa explanation. For so reason, though, she'd kept talking to him—just talking, nothing more. He'd never understood why he'd been the exception.
"You know that thing I told you about?" Amias said finally. "About not getting into anything serious until I turn eighteen?"
Zara nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "The pact you made after I rejected you?"
"Yeah," Amias laughed softly. "That one."
"What about it?"
"I don't know," he sighed. "With Temi, I just... I got caught up in the mont. I had seen her at the studio before yesterday. And then..." He paused, feeling his cheeks warm slightly.
"And then?" Zara prompted, eyebrow raised.
"And then I saw her sitting on so other guy's lap not even an hour later," Amias finished. "I felt like an idiot. And from there the fla started dwindling."
Zara winced. "Ouch."
"Yeah," Amias nodded. "Ouch."
"But you still has sex with her..." Zara trailed off, her aning clear.
"Well, I said the fla dwindled," Amias replied with a half-smile. "Not disintegrated."
Zara laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "Fair enough."
They looked at each other for a mont, and sothing shifted in the air between them. Then Zara coughed and looked away, breaking the mont.
"So," she said, her voice deliberately light, "did I tell you what Jai did yesterday?"
"Your little brother? No, what happened?"
"He tried to make our dog fly," Zara said, rolling her eyes. "Put poor Biscuit in a cardboard box with paper wings taped to the sides and tried to launch him off the garden wall."
Amias laughed, picturing the scene. "What happened?"
"Biscuit wasn't having it," Zara said, grinning. "Jumped out of the box, ate one of the wings, and then peed on Jai's science textbook."
"Karma," Amias observed, still laughing.
"Exactly," Zara agreed. "Mum was furious about the textbook, though. Said Jai would have to use his allowance to pay for a new one."
Their conversation drifted to other topics—classes, friends, the upcoming economics exam that neither of them was particularly worried about. It was easy, this back-and-forth between them. No pressure, no expectations.
Eventually, Zara glanced at the ti on her phone and sighed. "We should probably head to class soon."
"Yeah," Amias nodded, but made no move to get up. Instead, he found himself saying, "Hey, what's a stem?"
Zara blinked at him. "A stem? Like in a plant?"
"No, in music," Amias clarified. "Soone ntioned it to , and I had no idea what they were talking about."
Zara's face lit up with understanding. "Oh! A stem. It's like a separate audio track in a song—like the vocals isolated, or just the drums, or just the bass. Engineers use them to mix and master tracks."
"That's what I thought," Amias nodded, though he hadn't really known at all that it had a term.
Zara studied him for a mont, then shook her head, amused. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?"
"With so things, no." Amias admitted with a sheepish grin.
"Well," Zara said, gathering her things, "at least you're honest about it."
A thought struck Amias—impulsive, but sohow right. "Be my manager."
Zara looked up, startled. "What?"
"Be my manager," he repeated, more confident now. "I an, not officially until after we graduate. But I need soone I trust. Soone who knows what they're doing."
Zara stared at him. "You're being serious?"
"Dead serious," Amias nodded. "Look, I know I'm going to need soone with experience in the industry eventually. But right now, I need soone who gets . Soone who won't let get played."
"And you think that's ?" Zara asked, her voice soft.
"I know it's you," Amias said simply. "You're the only one I trust like that."
Zara looked at him for a long mont, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled. "I'll think about it," she said, but her tone suggested she'd already made up her mind.
"We should probably go," Amias said, not making any effort to stand.
"Probably," Zara agreed, staying exactly where she was.
They shared a look, a silent understanding passing between them.
"You know," Zara said, leaning forward slightly, "you have to stop getting infatuated with girls so quickly."
Amias blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"Don't 'what' ," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've known you since Year 7. You see a pretty girl and suddenly she's all you can think about. It's not as bad as it used to be, but still."
Amias sighed, running a hand over his new braids. "I told you, that fire is already dwindling."
"Uhuh," Zara nodded, unconvinced. "Well, you have been talking to fewer females lately. Maybe Temi will be the last one for a while."
Sothing in her tone made Amias look at her more closely, but her face revealed nothing beyond casual interest.
"Maybe," he conceded.
Zara took a sip of her water, eyes fixed on a point just over his shoulder. "Rember that swimming tournant last year? The one where you placed second?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Jordan ca through to watch, right? And he pulled that stunt where he told those girls Central Cee was your cousin."
Amias groaned at the mory. "Man, that was peak. He's there trying to chat up these girls, telling them he's my friend, but as soon as they heard about Oakley, they completely ignored him."
"And suddenly they were all interested in you," Zara finished, a slight edge to her voice.
"Yeah," Amias nodded. "Sa thing happened with Temi too. Once people find out about that connection, everything changes. I don't even mind it anymore."
"Every girl who finds out suddenly gets interested," Zara said, her tone deliberately casual.
"Not every girl," Amias replied, looking directly at her.
The mont hung between them, Zara held his gaze for a second before looking away, a slight flush creeping up her neck.
Before either could say anything more, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and frowned.
"I need to take this," she said, standing up. "It's my brother's school. Give a minute?"
Amias nodded, watching as she stepped away to answer the call. Once she was out of earshot, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then quickly navigated to his stats page. The numbers glowed back at him:
Lyrical Composition: 81/100
Flow Control: 54/100
Rhythm Recognition: 55/100
Music Theory: 76/100
Stage Presence: 55/100
Freestyle Ability: 77/100
lodic Perception: 56/100
Vocal Projection: 77/100
Beat Production: 58/100
Sound Engineering: 54/100
He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. After helping Oakley in the studio and recording his music video, several of his stats had improved. His Sound Engineering was up, along with lodic Perception, Stage Presence, Rhythm Recognition, and Flow Control. Still room for improvent, but progress was progress.
The quest notification blinked at the bottom of the screen:
[IN PROGRESS]
Release your first song with a music video
Reward: 2 CP
This reminded him of sothing he'd been mulling over—whether to release the song before the music video. As Zara walked back toward the table, he closed the app and switched to his regular music player.
"Everything alright?" he asked as she sat down.
"Yeah, just Jai being Jai," she sighed.
"Your brother's a character."
"That's one way of putting it," she said with a fond smile. "What were you looking at just now? You seed intense."
"Actually," Amias said, shifting topics, "I was thinking about my release strategy. Do you think I should drop the song before the music video?"
Zara tilted her head. "I haven't even heard the song yet. How am I supposed to advise you?"
"Fair point," Amias conceded. He pulled out his earbuds, offering one to Zara. "Here, listen."
Their heads bent close together as the beat kicked in. Amias watched her face carefully as his verses played, trying to gauge her reaction. Her expression remained neutral, but her foot tapped along with the rhythm—a good sign.
When the track ended, she handed the earbud back to him. "It sounds good," she said finally. "The production is clean, your delivery is solid. But..."
"But what?"
"I don't like the lyrics."
Amias frowned. "What's wrong with them?"
"All that talk about 'bruckin' weight' and trap phones," she said, making air quotes. "It's just..." She trailed off, then seed to rember sothing. "Oh right, I forgot that you actually do that stuff."
"Do what?"
"Sell weed," she said bluntly. "If I'm going to be your manager, my first term is for you to stop."
Amias sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I'll think on it," he said, not wanting to get into that particular discussion right now. "But let's focus on this. On the release."
"Yeah, alright," Zara nodded, accepting the temporary deflection. "We could do so marketing before the drop. Generate so buzz."
"Like what?"
A mischievous smile spread across her face. "How about this headline: 'Central Cee's cousin gets caught lacking in London.'"
Amias raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Obviously we'd make it look fake," she explained. "Just enough to get people talking, you know?"
"I an, people will find out eventually," Amias said slowly, considering the idea. "So why not use it from now?"
"Exactly," Zara nodded eagerly. "We control the narrative. Plus, it's not like we're making up the connection—it's just strategic timing."
"What else?"
"We need a proper rollout plan. Teasers, social dia strategy, maybe even so guerrilla marketing around the school and White City."
Amias nodded, impressed despite himself. "I also need to find a studio and a producer. Or engineer, whatever you want to call them."
"What about Zel?" Zara suggested.
"Who?"
Zara sighed heavily. "Rember when you helped work on my brother's project for music theory? We had to find a musician, and my brother chose to do a rap producer. We did a whole project on Denzel."
"Oh!" Recognition dawned on Amias' face. "But he isn't all that obscure. You think he'll even be willing to collaborated?"
"Yes, he will," Zara affird. "I'll send him an email."
"Tit, tit, tit," Amias teased. "Now you're the manager?"
"Well, didn't you just ask to be?" she shot back with a grin.
"Right, then," Amias said, suddenly feeling more motivated than he had in days. "I need to get studio ti sowhere. Oakley rents out a whole place, but that's way too expensive for . I'll have to either find a smaller studio or just pay for sessions."
"And you need to set up your business properly," Zara added. "LLC, bank accounts, all that stuff."
"Yeah," Amias nodded. "What about distribution? I was thinking Distrokid to start with."
"Good choice," Zara agreed. "Low fees, you keep all your royalties. We can always switch to sothing else once you get bigger."
"When I get bigger," Amias corrected, half-joking.
Zara's expression softened. "When you get bigger," she repeated, and there was no doubt in her voice.
They looked at each other across the table, the cafeteria noise fading into the background. For a mont, it felt like they were the only two people in the room.
"What's that look for?" Amias asked.
"Nothing," Zara said, shaking her head slightly. "Just thinking that this might actually work."
"You doubted ?"
"No," she said seriously. "I never doubt you. I just wasn't sure if you were serious about this."
"Well back then I wasn't, but since yesterday I feel like I am," Amias said, matching her tone.
Zara held his gaze for a long mont, then nodded. "Alright then. Let's do this."
The second bell rang, signaling that they were now officially late for class.
Zara shouldered her bag, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I'll draw up a contract tonight. Twenty percent of all earnings."
"Twenty?" Amias protested. "That's robbery!"
"Fine, three," she conceded. "But I get final say on all creative decisions."
"Two, and we make creative decisions together," Amias countered.
Zara extended her hand. "Deal. Now let's go before we both get detention."
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