You didn’t expect much when you walked into the local book club—just a quiet evening of discussion and tea. But there she was, sitting in the corner, sneakers kicked up on the chair, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Jennifer Lawrence. Somehow, she was here too.

The topic of the night was a classic mystery novel, but Jennifer wasn’t listening to the discussion. She was flipping the pages of her book like she owned the place, occasionally whispering comments that made you snort quietly.

“Did you catch that part?” she leaned over to you suddenly, eyes sparkling. “I mean, who writes a twist like that and expects anyone to keep a straight face?”

You blinked, caught off guard by her casualness. “I… I guess I missed it,” you admitted.

She smirked, nudging your arm lightly. “Well, lucky for you, I’m here. I’ll be your spoiler-free guide.”

The rest of the evening was a blur of whispered observations, shared laughter, and side glances that lingered longer than they should. She had this way of making everything feel effortless—like the two of you had known each other for years, even though it was your first meeting.

At the end of the night, she closed her book and stood, smoothing out her sleeves. “You coming back next week?” she asked, tilting her head. “I mean, I need a partner in crime to keep me from being the only one laughing out loud.”

You smiled, feeling your chest warm in a way that had nothing to do with the heating in the room. “Yeah… I think I’ll be back.”

Jennifer grinned, tossing a wink over her shoulder as she walked out. “Good. Don’t be late.”