She had me from the start—something about the way we talked, the way our lives lined up like verses in the same song. We spent nights lost in conversation, sharing pieces of ourselves that felt too real to be coincidence. Music was our language, and she had a love for the alternative sound, something raw and untamed. I felt it in her presence, in the way she carried herself, and I matched her energy with every note. The more time we spent together, the deeper I fell, hooked on the way she made the world feel different, like it had more color, more meaning. And when the rain came down that night, it felt like the perfect soundtrack—just us, locked in the moment, headlights glowing against the wet pavement as we gave in to something bigger than both of us. But now, I’m caught in the in-between. I lost myself in her, and now I wonder—was it just a moment, or is this something real? The uncertainty lingers like the last note of a song, leaving me wanting more, questioning what comes next. "You Got Me" isn’t just a song—it’s the echo of that night, that feeling, that mystery. And maybe, just maybe, the music will answer what words can’t.