Tori Vega sat cross-legged on her plush velvet couch, her laptop balanced precariously on her knees. The glow of the screen illuminated her face, highlighting the slight crease in her brow as she scrolled through the Facebook event page she had created. "Hollywood Arts Class of 2014 Reunion: 10 Years Later!" the banner read in bold, festive lettering against a backdrop of glitter and spotlights. She had spent weeks planning this, and now, with the event only a few days away, she was compulsively checking the attendee list.

Her dark hair, freshly blown out, cascaded over one shoulder, and she wore an oversized hoodie that read "World Tour 2018" – a relic of a time when her name was plastered on billboards and her songs dominated charts. Now, her name was still known, but more as a question mark in pop culture: "What ever happened to Victoria Vega?"

The answer, of course, was that she was still here, still making music. It just wasn't the kind of music people were talking about anymore. Her last three singles had flopped. Her social media engagement had taken a nosedive, and her team—a much smaller team than she used to have—was subtly hinting she might want to diversify.

But none of that mattered right now. Right now, her focus was on this reunion. It had started as a distraction, something to occupy her thoughts during sleepless nights and days spent second-guessing every decision she'd made since graduation. She'd convinced herself it was about reconnecting with everyone, but deep down, she knew the truth. This was about her five best friends. The people who had been her world during those whirlwind years at Hollywood Arts.

They were the ones she wanted to see. The ones she needed to see. Because maybe, just maybe, seeing them again would make her feel like herself again.

Her eyes scanned the attendee list. A good handful had replied, she'd been checking it religiously for weeks. But she only really cared about a few.

Beck Oliver – Maybe.

Beck was always the maybe. Even back in high school, he'd agree to plans and then decide at the last minute whether he was in the mood to follow through.

Jade West – No Response.

Victoria sighed. Jade. The wild card. She'd half-expected this. Jade had always been hard to pin down, even when they were younger.

Andre Harris – Yes.

Andre was always there for her. Her first producer during the very early stage of her career. The only one she still talked to, though even that waved in the last three or so years. They'd dated briefly at one point —a fact tabloids still loved to dredge up whenever they crossed paths at industry events. She'd told herself it was ancient history, but seeing his name under "Attending" made her stomach flutter in a way that felt very un-ancient.

Robbie Shapiro – Yes.

This was expected too, he didn't seem to be doing too much, from the little she knew about him. He was teaching at a College somewhere now. Not doing much wasn't a bad thing- he just liked the simpler life away from the showbiz they'd all expected when they were at school. They could've easily met up 101 times, but neither seemed to make the effort. Still, it would be nice to see him.

Cat Valentine - Yes.

Tori's heart did a little flip. Yesterday, Cat hadn't replied, and today it was a yes. Cat was - well no one knew what Cat was doing at one point. She just disappeared straight out of Highschool. Out of the state and seemingly off the grid. She was easy to keep track of now, as she was on a Broadway stage almost every night- but for a while. No one knew anything of the youngest member of the group. But now- she was coming to the reunion? Brilliant news!

Now it was just to see if Beck and Jade showed too-

She closed the laptop with a sigh and leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. She'd done everything she could. If they didn't show up, it wouldn't be for lack of effort on her part. She'd booked the venue, a swanky rooftop bar overlooking Los Angeles, and hired a DJ who promised to play only the best hits from 2010 to 2014. She'd even arranged for a red carpet and a professional photographer, because if Hollywood Arts taught her anything, it was that presentation mattered.

But as much as she wanted this to be perfect, it wasn't about the venue or the playlist or the photo ops. It was about them. The six of them. The gang, as they'd jokingly called themselves. They'd been inseparable once, navigating the chaos of Hollywood Arts together, dreaming big dreams and cheering each other on.