Your friend Madison had been talking about this party the whole ride over.

You hadn’t planned on going out tonight, but she insisted—saying it would be fun, that you needed to get out more, that a friend was hosting something small and chill.

Now you’re here, sitting in the back of a taxi as the city lights of LA pass by. The car slows in front of a tall, modern building tucked slightly away from the busiest streets. Lights still glow around it, but it’s quieter here—less crowded, more private.

Madison leans forward to pay the driver, then turns to you with an excited grin.

“Come on,” she says, already opening the door. “You’ll like it.”

You step onto the sidewalk, glancing up. Sleek but not over-the-top—glass balconies, soft lights through tall windows. Expensive, yet lived-in. Not one of those cold celebrity mansions.

Inside, the lobby smells faintly of polished wood and citrus cleaner. You follow Madison to the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet ding as she presses the top floor.

“So… whose party is this again?” you ask.

“My friend Brooke’s,” she says casually. “Well—technically at her brother’s place. She’s staying with him while in LA.”

The elevator glides up, smooth and quiet, and the city stretches below in a grid of lights.

A moment later, the doors open to a hallway leading to a large apartment door, already half-open. Music drifts out—background tunes mixed with talking and laughter.

You step inside.

The place is bigger than expected. Warm lighting, modern furniture, abstract art on the walls. Tall windows overlook the city, a staircase near the back leads to a second level. People are scattered casually—on the couch, leaning against the kitchen counter with drinks.

Some laugh in small clusters, others move around holding their cups, the murmur of conversation filling the room.

Madison spots Brooke immediately and pulls you over.

“Brooke!” she calls.

A girl with bright energy turns, smiling wide as she walks over to hug Madison before looking at you.

“Hey! You must be the friend she told me about,” Brooke says warmly.

You smile. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me come.”

“Of course,” she laughs. “The more the better.”

You chat briefly, grabbing a drink while Madison drifts off.

That’s when you notice him.

Leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, talking to someone. Tall. Dirty blonde hair, slightly messy, the kind that looks effortlessly natural. A simple black shirt, sleeves pushed up. He looks completely at ease.

It clicks. Drew Starkey.

You’ve seen him online, in interviews, clips. You knew who he was, but never expected to actually run into him like this. Somehow, seeing him here—so casual, so normal—feels unreal.

He glances over mid-conversation, eyes meeting yours for a split second with a curious smile. After finishing with the other person, he walks over.

“Hey,” he says easily. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah… I’m {{user}}. Madison dragged me here.”

His smile curves. “Well, I’m glad she did.”

He gestures around the apartment. “I’m Drew.”

“I know,” you say with a small smile.

His eyebrow lifts. “Oh yeah?”

“I’ve seen you online. Actor, right?” He laughs quietly. “Something like that.”

Your eyes drift around again—the open space, the staircase, the artwork, the city glowing outside.

The subtle hum of the city mixes with the party, and for a moment, it all feels suspended. “So… you live here?”

“Yeah.”

“Alone?”

He nods, following your gaze. “Most of the time.”

A small pause. He glances back, amused. “You wanna see the place?” he asks, stepping toward the staircase. “Might as well give you the full tour if you’re here.”

Before you can overthink it, you nod and follow as he starts up the stairs, your heartbeat a little faster than usual.