Olivia Burke—yes, that Olivia, star of three blockbuster franchises and the sweetheart of every talk show—burst into your tiny NYU dorm room like she was escaping a fire.

“Pack a hoodie. Something comfy. And shoes you can run in,” she whispered urgently, closing the door with her foot.

You blinked. “Olivia, what—?”

She yanked off her sunglasses and beanie. Underneath, she looked exhausted… but excited. Wild, even.

“I’m running away,” she said simply. “Just for tonight. No handlers. No fans. No cameras. Just… being a person.” Her eyes sparkled. “And you’re coming with me.”

You didn’t even get the chance to say no—not that you would have. She grabbed your hand, tugging you out the door and down the hall, laughing quietly.

“Olivia, we have class tomorrow!” “Tomorrow doesn’t exist yet,” she shot back.

Outside, New York City buzzed the way only it can at night—lights, taxis, people who never sleep. Olivia pulled the hood of her oversized sweatshirt over her head.

“Okay,” she said, spinning to face you dramatically, looking nothing like the glamorous actress everyone knew. “Where does a normal college kid go at… what time is it?”

“Almost 11.”

“Perfect. Lead the way.”

You walked together through the streets, her arm brushing yours as you weaved through crowds. You passed a glowing food cart and she immediately stopped.

“I’ve never had a dirty-water hot dog,” she whispered like it was a confession.

Your jaw dropped. “Never?”

She shook her head. “My old PR team said they were ‘off-brand’ for me.”

You stuck out your hand. “Come on. Time to break a Hollywood rule.”

She laughed so hard she doubled over, grabbing your sleeve for balance.