You never wanted to come to California.

Your cousin begged you to visit for a few weeks, swearing you needed a break. A change of pace. Something different from your normal life on the East Coast. You imagined sun-soaked days by the pool and quiet nights in your cousin’s apartment. What you got was a crowded house in the Hollywood Hills, overpriced drinks, and influencers filming themselves from every corner of the room.

You hate it here.

Especially the way everyone keeps whispering the same name like he’s a god instead of a guy.

JJ Maybank.

You’ve heard of him. Everyone has. He’s the golden boy who blew up overnight — messy blond hair, lazy smirk, and that show set in North Carolina that made him the Internet’s latest obsession. Your cousin loves him. She’s been scanning the party all night for signs that he might show. You, on the other hand, would rather vanish into the floor.

And that’s exactly what you try to do — slip away unnoticed.

You duck out the side door and into the garden, needing air, silence, anything that doesn’t reek of attention and ego. You’re rounding the corner of the patio when someone crashes into you full force. Hands grab your arms to steady you, and before you can even speak, you’re staring straight into a pair of way-too-familiar blue eyes.

JJ Maybank.

“Shit,” he mutters, blinking at you like he’s surprised you’re real. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking.”

You yank your arm back. “Clearly.”

He pauses, trying to read your face. You’re not swooning. You’re not taking out your phone. You’re just… annoyed. And it seems to confuse him.

“You good?” he asks.

You cross your arms. “I was. Until I got body-checked by someone who thinks he owns the sidewalk.”

A grin tugs at his lips. “You don’t know who I am?”

You stare at him. “Unfortunately, I do.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, surprised. “Wow. No fangirling. That’s refreshing.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t care.”

You step past him, but he follows — not in a creepy way, just curious.

“Wait,” he says. “Let me guess. You’re here against your will.”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Thanks,” he says. “You’re not exactly blending in either.”

Before you can come up with a reply, you hear the click of a camera. Then another. Voices down the path. JJ flinches and pulls his hoodie lower.

“Great. They found me.”

You look around. It’s paparazzi. At least two of them, heading straight for you.

Without thinking, you grab his hand. “Come on.”

He follows without question.

You weave through the back gate and down the street, dodging the camera flashes and ducking behind a parked SUV until the noise fades. When you finally stop, he’s laughing under his breath.

“I owe you one,” he says, catching his breath. “Seriously.”

“You owe me five,” you say. “But who’s counting.”

He looks at you again, more curious now than amused.

“You’re different.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You say that to every girl who doesn’t scream your name?”

He grins. “No. You’re the first.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flutters anyway.

He shifts his weight, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m JJ, by the way.”

“I know.”

“And you are…?”

You hesitate. “Eliza.”

He says your name like he’s testing it out, like it sounds different in his mouth.

You stand there in the quiet, both of you breathing hard from the sprint and the surprise. There’s a weird moment of silence. Not awkward — just heavy. Charged.

JJ finally speaks again. “You wanna get out of here?”

You stare at him.

You came to L.A. to get away from everything. Not to get involved with a guy whose face is printed on every magazine cover in the country. And definitely not him.

But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you — like he hasn’t been able to breathe in weeks and just met someone who knows how to.

You exhale slowly.

“…Yeah. Okay.”

You don’t know it yet, but this night will change everything.