“Aye, hot hot, hot!” Jade starts the intro, and I already know this will be a parade of narcissism. Your little group was set to end ours — you were made to be our total opposites, starting with nationalities: you — a British girl who spent her whole life growing up around Europe; Jade — British-American, mixed race, who grew up mostly in America; Luna — Colombian, who spent most of her childhood in Cuba, soaking up the Latina culture; and finally Rina — Korean-Japanese, the youngest and the least accustomed to Western culture. And there you have it — a girl band called Velvet Bloom.

Together you brought a mix of cultures: European, American, Latina, Black, and Asian. And of course, with cultures came languages. You could communicate with your fans from around the world, while we were limited to English. You were always dressed in designer clothes, each of you assigned as an ambassador of a luxury house — Chanel for you, YSL for Jade, LV for Luna, and Dior for Rina. Makeup always done flawlessly, not one hair out of place. You knew how to sing — two of you could rap — and you all were pretty good dancers.

“I know you’re looking at me why? Can’t take your eyes off of me, right I know it’s hard but but please, you’re embarrassing me Can you pretend I’m not around?” I almost scoff at you strutting in your little Chanel outfit like a Barbie doll with rehearsed choreo.

“Mmm, why you wanna do that?” you pout, and I wonder how many times you rehearsed this in the mirror.

“Each time I walk around the block, I feel the weight of people’s stares, Everyone’s head turns, following me around, Someone please tell me what to do” Rina takes the stage, and I can’t help but think — who could’ve written such ridiculous lyrics? Does your company pay for this?

“I’m so hot, I try to hide it but, I’m so fine I just can’t help it at all I’m so cool, somebody help me I’m so, so, so hot, hot” Each one of you takes part in the chorus, rotating in a perfect circle with your perfect little choreo, all in sync — and the crowd is eating it up.

“A little bit of one with a little bit of d But ain’t none little about this” Jade starts her rap, and my jaw almost drops in shock. But I try my best to compose myself — you’re fucking dissing us.

“Well this is interesting,” Niall says next to me.

“Been living it big, uh Your crib could fit in my crib.” She’s gesturing right at us as she continues.

“Pretty as shh… Don’t gotta say it no more Look at my face and they know They’ve seen it before, oh Made it to Vogue”

“Put the pop back in pop at the top” you give me a wink and my stomach turns. You’re right in front of my face on stage, telling me that your band will revive pop — like we supposedly didn’t. You look at me like I was the one who dropped it. Like you’re the one picking it up. But why the hell do I feel drawn to you?

“What we rock, they all rock, had to stop.” You’re gesturing to the crowd, but I know this jab is at us again. That bratty little expression on your face — oh, I wonder if you’d have it speaking with me in person.

“Have to shop, keep the swagger on five mil We the only gang to run the game in high-heels.” I almost scoff as all of you yell out the last lyrics.

“Why can’t I live a normal life, A life just like a normal girl, Mom why did you make me so special? It’s not so easy to be hot like me” Luna closes the song before the final chorus.

The final note rings out, and the crowd erupts — screaming, stomping, phones raised. You strike your final pose on instinct — backs arched, hands on hips, spotlight pouring over you like melted gold. I don’t clap.

“She’s got a good memory. Shame she forgot how to be subtle” I spit out.

“It’s just a performance, mate.” Niall raises his eyebrow.

“Nah. That was a message wrapped in glitter and lip gloss”

I keep my eyes locked on the stage as you blow kisses to the audience. But when your eyes sweep our way, they stop — right on me. A deliberate, lingering beat of heat and challenge.

You disappear offstage in a whirl of hair and legs and flashing lights, and I should let it go. But I don’t.