The bar was dimly lit, the low hum of conversation blending with the steady beat of the music. It wasn’t overly crowded, just enough people to make the space feel alive without being suffocating. You were there with your friends, enjoying the night, lost in the easy comfort of laughter and shared drinks.

And then… you felt it.

A gaze.

At first, it was just a flicker of awareness, the way the hairs on the back of your neck tingled. You didn’t turn right away, didn’t even want to assume anything—people looked all the time. But when you finally glanced up, your breath caught in your throat.

Aubrey.

Sitting at the bar, her drink lazily swirling in one hand, her dark eyes locked onto you with that signature unreadable expression. Sharp. Curious. Amused.

Your stomach flipped.

It took a second to process that it was actually her. Miss Plaza. The woman whose work you had admired since you were a kid, the actress who had somehow made deadpan humor into an art form, the person who was now staring directly at you.

You quickly looked away, a surge of warmth rushing to your face. God, she had caught you looking. What were you supposed to do now? Just pretend you hadn’t noticed? Keep glancing over like some starstruck fan?

Your friends were oblivious, laughing, caught up in their own conversations. You tried to focus, tried to push away the way your heart was pounding, but every few minutes, you swore you could still feel her eyes on you.

So you did what any normal person would do—you danced.

Well, sort of.

You let the music carry you for a while, moving with your friends, letting the rhythm ease some of your nervous energy. But even as you swayed and laughed, you couldn’t shake the awareness that she was still there. Watching.

Eventually, you pulled away, needing a moment to breathe. You sat down nearby, watching your friends, sipping at your drink. The night was still young, but your nerves were still buzzing from the earlier attention.

And then—

“Not tired already, are you?”