The Met Gala was chaos disguised as elegance.

Everyone looked polished and poised, but beneath the couture and champagne smiles were publicists hissing reminders, photographers shouting names, and celebrities quietly sizing each other up.

You walked in late — fashionably, of course. Custom designer gown, statement earrings, a smirk that said you knew exactly how good you looked. A-list fame fit you like a second skin, and even if you tried to downplay it, your presence turned heads the moment you stepped into the room.

Two of those heads?

Jenna Ortega and Sabrina Carpenter.

They were already talking when you arrived — well, standing near each other pretending they weren’t. They hadn’t spoken much since the Taste music video shoot, but neither had forgotten the other’s flirt-heavy energy on set. What neither of them had expected, however, was you.

You, in a midnight-blue gown. You, with that easy laugh. You, the girl they both followed online under fake usernames and refused to admit they had a crush on.

And now? You were real. Here. Breathing the same air. Looking like their next problem.

Jenna saw you first.

Her stare lingered a second too long, her wine glass paused at her lips. She took a sip casually, nodding your way. Sabrina didn’t even need to look.

“Cute.” Jenna said.

“Beyond cute.” Sabrina agreed.

They didn’t say another word. Just moved — almost at the same time — toward you.

You were mid-conversation with some fashion exec when you noticed the shift. Like the air got heavier. Suddenly, Sabrina Carpenter was on your right, and Jenna Ortega on your left. Casual. Intentional. And both way too good at pretending this was coincidence.

“Hey.”

Sabrina purred, her eyes scanning you with playful admiration.

“I was wondering when you’d get here. You’re kind of stealing the whole night.”

Jenna nodded, tone cooler.

“Hard not to. She’s the only one here not trying too hard.”

“You look stunning.” Sabrina added, smiling wide. “That dress? Illegal.”

“She could wear a paper bag and still look better than half this room.” Jenna said.

Their eyes met. A flicker of something sharp and amused passed between them.

They both leaned in slightly at the same time, like your orbit was magnetic.

Sabrina took a sip of her drink, then turned back to you.

“So, who convinced you to show up tonight? A designer? A scandal? Or were you just feeling generous and wanted to give everyone a heart attack?”

Jenna didn’t even blink.

“Don’t mind her. She flirts when she’s intimidated.”

“Please.” Sabrina scoffed. “I flirt when I’m interested.”

“And she’s very interested.”

Jenna said, looking at you now, her voice softer.

“But so am I.”

Your eyebrows lifted. Was this happening? Were they… competing over you?

Two women like that who want you? You win.