The Monkees' shared a rented beach house in Malibu. They could afford it because everything in the place needed repair, but it served them well because of the area they made into a stage for practice and performing. The living room, usually a tangle of instruments and energy, now hummed with a vibrant warmth as the boys played to a small, captivated audience. Photo shoot crew members lounged on mismatched cushions, tapping feet or swaying to the irresistible rhythm of "Mary, Mary." The song had an infectious pulse of its own.

Stacy leaned closer to Juliana, her poised elegance betrayed by the playful glint in her eyes. "Told you they were out of sight," she said, bouncing lightly in time with the beat.

Juliana's heart thudded with the pulse of the song, her voice barely above a whisper. "You weren't kidding. I'm totally hooked. Their sound... it's like it gets stuck in my head, but in the best way possible."

Across the room, Micky spun a drumstick like a magician with a wand, his wild energy coaxing a laugh from Gina, the sassy makeup artist. She clapped her hands to the beat, her curls bouncing with every movement. "These guys are such a gas!" she said, nudging Brian, the ever-unimpressed lighting tech. "Even you've gotta admit they're good."

Brian smirked, his arms crossed. "They're alright. But wild hair and tambourines only go so far."

Gina snorted, her laughter a sharp counterpoint to Brian's cool. "Keep telling yourself that while I snag a drum solo date with Micky."

Meanwhile, Gary, the ever-dedicated photographer, circled the room like a hawk, snapping candid shots of the Monkees and their small audience. He nodded thoughtfully, adjusting his camera lens as he shot photos of the boys mid-jam. "They've got a great style," he remarked, though his eyes never left the viewfinder, capturing the energy in the room.

Juliana, feeling the warmth of the music seep into her chest, leaned in toward Stacy, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. "I think I might try to get to know one of them better," she murmured, her heart skipping at the thought of the possibility.

Stacy's eyebrow arched in playful suspicion. "Ooh, which one? And it better not be Davy."

Juliana let out a small laugh and glanced over at Davy, who was amusing himself with a tambourine and maracas, his infectious energy filling the room. "Don't tell anyone," Juliana whispered, her voice barely audible, "but Michael… He makes my stomach do flips. I can't get enough of that southern cowboy drawl."

"Michael," Stacy echoed knowingly, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "You've got it bad, don't you?"

Juliana's cheeks burned. "He's just… different," she said, her voice soft but steady. "There's something about him. I can't explain it."

Peter, plucking his bass with soulful precision, had his gaze locked on Juliana. His every note seemed aimed at her, an unspoken serenade that made her fidget under its weight. She glanced at Stacy, who raised an eyebrow and gave her a playful nudge. "You've got two admirers tonight," she teased. "Careful, or you'll have the whole band writing love songs for you."

Juliana's laugh was light but nervous. "Peter's sweet," she admitted. "But…"

Stacy finished the sentence for her with a grin. "But he's not Michael."

As if summoned by her name, Michael glanced up mid-strum, his dark eyes locking with Juliana's for a heartbeat. She froze, the noise of the room fading to a low murmur. He offered a small, almost shy smile before returning his focus to his guitar. The moment was fleeting but electric, sending a thrill racing through her.

And then, as if the universe was listening, the music slowed, and the Monkees took a quick break. Peter, always the charmer, was the first to approach Juliana. His boyish enthusiasm was impossible to ignore as he leaned on the arm of her chair. "Having fun?" he asked, his grin wide and genuine.

Juliana smiled back. "This is amazing. You guys are so talented."

Peter flushed, his smile growing even brighter. "Thanks. Want a drink?"

Juliana smiled and raised her red cream soda in her hand. "I've got one, thanks."

But just as she spoke, her attention drifted over Peter's shoulder, instinctively drawn to the table where Michael, looking adorably frustrated, was wrestling with a stubborn bag of pretzels. The bag crinkled loudly as he tugged at the top, and for a moment, it felt like the world around her had blurred.

Peter, oblivious to her distraction, continued his rapid-fire questions. "How long have you been modeling? Where did you meet Stacy? Do you like taking pictures and dancing? What do you think of California?"

Juliana answered with a warm smile, her voice light as she indulged him. "I started modeling when I was a baby about a year old. Stacy and I met at USC in a ballet class. I love photography and art. We just moved here from New York for my dad's work. California? It's been a dream—sun, sea, and the best people."

Peter grinned widely, genuinely captivated by her. "You're really nice," he said, his eyes softening. "I like you."

Juliana's heart gave a little flutter, touched by his compliment, but her gaze quickly flicked back to Michael, who was still struggling with that bag. And now, with an almost comical expression of defeat, he gave up and reached for the chips instead, the bag of pretzels a lost cause..

Stacy, ever the observant one, caught the direction of Juliana's glance and gave Peter a nudge. "Pete, come help me convince Davy to take me surfing tomorrow."

Juliana silently thanked Stacy with her eyes, but she was already making her way to the snack table. "Excuse me, Peter," Juliana said politely. "I need to grab a few pretzels."

Peter watched her go, his grin faltering but his admiration undimmed.

Juliana approached the snack table, her pulse quickening as she neared Michael. Just as she reached for the pretzels, Michael, completely unaware of her presence, turned away to rummage through the fridge. Juliana froze for a moment, her heart skipping at the sight of him, searching for something in the fridge. His back was to her, and for a split second, time seemed to stretch out.

She took in the view—his long legs clad in tight jeans, his slightly tousled hair falling over his brow, and the casual ease in the way he stood. He looked… well, perfect.

Juliana fought the nervous flutter in her chest and finally she took a moment to steady herself before speaking. "Need some help with those pretzels?" she asked, her voice light with amusement.

Michael turned, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment. He looked at the mangled bag, a self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. "I think the pretzels won this round," he drawled, his Texas accent as smooth as honey.

Juliana chuckled, picking up the bag and with a practiced twist, she popped it open and handed it back to him. "Guess you needed a pro," she teased.

Michael laughed, a low, genuine sound that made her heart race. "Guess I did," he said, his eyes meeting hers. There was something unguarded in his gaze, a quiet warmth that made her feel like the only person in the room.

Juliana hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I really liked your playing tonight," she said, her voice steady. "You make it look so easy."

Michael shrugged, his grin turning sheepish. "Just a lot of practice, I guess. Nothing special."

"It's special to me," Juliana said quickly, her words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I was wondering… would you ever consider giving lessons? I'm just starting out, and I'd love to learn from someone as good as you."

Michael blinked, clearly caught off guard. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the guitar setting over on the stage area. "Lessons, huh? I don't know. I'm not really much of a teacher."

Juliana smiled, leaning just slightly closer. "Then maybe I can teach you how to open snack bags, and we'll call it even."

Michael laughed heartily, "That's a mighty tempting offer." He glanced at the Coke in his hand as if buying time to process. He said with a casual shrug, "Pete's the one who teaches kids. I just play."

Juliana laughed softly, the sound light and teasing. "I don't know if I could handle Pete's constant questions."

Michael chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, he's a bit of a chatterbox, but he's got a heart of gold."

Juliana stepped a little closer, her voice dropping to a more serious note. "Please, Michael… I really like the way you make that guitar jangle. I'd love to learn from you."

Michael nodded slowly, still smiling. "Alright, then. I'll show you a thing or two."

As he turned to grab his guitar, Juliana felt a thrill rush through her. It wasn't just about the guitar anymore—it was about him. About Michael. The easy drawl, the effortless charm, the way he made her heart race with just a smile.

Later, as the photo crew began packing up, Juliana couldn't suppress the rush of excitement coursing through her veins. She had gotten what she wanted—not just a guitar lesson, but a chance to get closer to someone who, in just a few hours, had completely captured her attention.

As they piled into the van to head out, Peter waved cheerfully from the doorstep, his face still bright with excitement from their earlier conversation. But Juliana's gaze was fixed on Michael, who was casually slinging his guitar over his shoulder as he waved goodbye.

She had no idea what the future held, but one thing was certain: she was really liking her new friends—and she was hoping that, just maybe, she could be a little more than just a fan from here on out.