She pressed play, and the room filled with a rhythm that blended smooth jazz with a subtle, pulsing electronic undercurrent. Maddy’s eyes widened; the groove was infectious. She tapped her foot, then lifted her own, matching the beat with a graceful sway.
Maddy’s curiosity sparked. “Show me.”
Kenna laughed, a little nervous. “I’m just a fan, but I’ve got a song in my head that I think could fit your style.”
Kenna pulled out her phone, the screen lighting up with a playlist titled —a collection of beats she’d been crafting for months. The title was a playful nod to a meme she’d once seen online, a reminder that even serious art could have a cheeky side.
Later, as they packed up, Maddy turned to Kenna. “You’ve got something special. How about we record this and see where it goes?”
Kenna grinned, feeling the weight of the night lift. “I’d love that. And maybe we can give the track a proper name—something that captures the magic of tonight.”
