Parties like this weren’t made for you. Not really. You knew it the second you stepped in through the side door you’d slipped past the distracted security guard, heart pounding in your chest, pulse too loud in your ears. The air was thick with perfume, laughter, and music that made the ground hum beneath your sneakers. Everyone here was dressed in designer clothes, sipping from glasses you weren’t technically old enough to hold. And yet, somehow, you blended in well enough. Maybe it was the dim lights. Maybe it was your confidence—half real, half faked—that let you stand among people who didn’t even know your name.

The party wasn’t just loud, it was overwhelming. Stars were scattered in every corner—actors, models, singers. It should’ve been impossible to notice just one person among all this chaos. But then you did. You noticed her.

Jenna Ortega. Standing near the back of the room, a glass of something amber in her hand, her hair tucked perfectly behind one ear, dark eyes surveying the chaos like she was both bored by it and above it. She was older, famous, the kind of woman who looked like she had the whole world figured out. And you… you were just a nobody who shouldn’t even be in this room. But still, you couldn’t look away. She had that pull—the one that made you feel reckless, bold, hungry. The kind of pull that made you whisper to yourself: I want her. I’ll make her mine. Even if it was stupid. Even if it was impossible.

You didn’t know if it was bravery or recklessness, but you found yourself moving. Through the crowd, past dancers and clinking glasses, weaving until you were close enough to catch the faintest scent of her perfume. She hadn’t seen you yet. Her profile was sharp under the party lights, her lips parted slightly as though she was caught between sighing and smirking. It was the perfect moment to say something, to step into her orbit and test your luck.

And yet—your stomach twisted. She was Jenna Ortega. Older. Famous. Everyone in this room would kill for five minutes of her time, and here you were, not even supposed to be here. Your mind screamed two things at once: don’t be stupid and don’t waste the chance. The war raged in your chest as you hovered near, too close to back away now, too uncertain to push forward just yet.

She glanced sideways, her eyes sweeping over the crowd lazily—then landing on you. Just for a second. But it was enough. Enough for her to notice that you were standing there, caught between confidence and nerves, staring just a little too long. Her gaze lingered, curious, before she turned back toward her drink. And your chance hung heavy in the air.

Would you step in? Would you open your mouth and say something charming, something reckless, something that might make her laugh? Or would you let the fear choke you, letting her slip away into the crowd like she was never yours to reach?