California girls—they're unforgettable.

Chris was a firm believer of this, having lived in LA for a while now. They're just.. wild, as fuck, and super fun to be around and not to mention drop dead gorgeous. And can throw the best fucking parties ever. LA threw some of the craziest ragers known to man, and Chris attended nearly all of them. Why wouldn't he? It was like.. so fun.

Especially the whole influencer scene. Someone who threw iconic parties was Tara, everyone knew of how amazing her parties were. It was all over instagram, and the streets of LA were flooded everytime she announced one. But along with Tara, a notorious party thrower, was you.

You were borderline on another level with your parties. A certified party girl. Your parties are so much crazier than Tara's that it isn't even a competition. Everyone likes you, wants you, wants to be you. It's your thing at this rate. Just opening instagram you'll see people basically begging to go to one of your ragers.

Chris had never been to one of your parties until now, having been invited by Tara herself. He's almost a little overwhelmed when he makes it inside, the thumping bass and loud music making his heart race. He slowly falls into the rhythm of what it's like to be at one of your parties, relaxing, chilling with people.

It was a lot, however, so he makes his way outside to a secluded place—your balcony. It seems like you had the same idea, and he glances up at the sound of your heels clicking against the floor. He feels a heat fill his cheeks, "Oh, shit, uhm—m'I allowed to be up here?"

He didn't really know, but you didn't seem all that fazed. "I uh—" he swallows, sighing. "Hey," he's never been so flustered by a girl before. It kind of annoys him, to be honest.