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Tori Kelly as Magnolia "Maggie" Wilson

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Chasin' You - Morgan Wallen
Whiskey Glasses - Morgan Wallen

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Maggie smiles at a coworker as she walks down the black and red carpeted hallway of Big Loud. She passes the framed album covered on the walls leading to the lounge that she's claimed as her studio. She's pretty high up on the list as one of the most well known songwriters in Nashville so she's kinda like royalty around these parts. She drops her notebooks and bag down the small white table in the middle of the room before sitting back on the black leather couch. She kicks her feet up, takes her glasses off, then rests her head against the back of the couch. She pops her lips as she hums quietly, moving her sandal clad foot to a random beat in her head. "Mags, you busy right now?" A quiet voice asks. She opens her eyes to see Michael Hardy leaning against the doorframe.

"No, what's up?" She sits up, bunching her blonde curls up into a messy bun.

"Wanna grab some lunch? There's a new pub that just opened on the corner. I've been dyin' to try their burgers." He smiles, putting a pinch of dip behind his lip.

"Sure." She stands, picking up her bag and books. Maggie follows Michael out of the building and down to the small restaurant.

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"Michael," Maggie sighs, picking at her salad with her fork. "I'm havin' writers block."

The brunette looks up from his plate and nods. "I usually either go for a drive or get laid to help me get over that."

"Sex helps you?"

"Always works." The two share a blush. "But, I'd start with going for a drive, if I was you."

Maggie rolls her eyes. "I was thinkin' 'bout gettin' laid first. It's been a long time since me and Matt, y'know..."

Michael chokes on his drink. "How long is long?"

"Nine months." He can't help the snicker that falls from his mouth. "It's not funny, dude! He's been between Nashville and Little Rock so we really haven't had time."

"That's your problem, baby." Michael uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. "Make time and then you'll be back to your usual self." She sighs, leaning back against the wooden chair then looks up at Michael. He offers a friendly smile, reaching over to pat her hand. "You need a dick in you now- even if Matt isn't around." A laugh bursts from her lips, her eyes scrunching up as she leans forward against the table. He laughs with her, the entire restaurant looking over at them. "Nine months is a long time, Mags, too long. At least we know you're not pregnant."

"Shut up." Her cheeks are bright red. "We gotta get goin' back to the studio. Them songs ain't gonna write themselves." Maggie stands, slips a twenty into the bill tray then she's out the door with Michael following suit.

She stops in front of a small convenience store. "I'm out of cigarettes." She mutters, looking at her empty pack. "Shit." Maggie makes her way inside.

"Hi y'all." The girl behind the counter greets.

The two smile back, heading to the furthest cooler door. "Check it out, baby." Michael knocks his knuckle against the glass. "Their White Claws are on sale."

"Those things are nasty, that's why." She mumbles back, picking up a ten-pack of fireball along with a six-pack of Smirnoff Screwdrivers. "I also need a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights too." She shows the woman her ID as she's scanning her beer.

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