Coachella.

Your first one ever. And somehow, it wasn’t just any kind of first. You weren’t shoved into crowds or squinting at the performers from behind five rows of influencers with ring lights. No. You were here with Damiano. Hand-in-hand. VIP pass swinging from your wrist. Artist guest badge tucked against your side like it belonged there.

You still weren’t entirely used to it. The way heads turned when you walked by, how photographers whispered your name, the headlines: 'A newly famous actress from ____ seen with Damiano David at Coachella Day 2...', your name, suddenly everywhere.

It had only been a few months since that one gala—the one where you met him. After his very public, very messy breakup with Dove, no one expected him to fall again. Let alone smile the way he did now, lazily adjusting your sunglasses on your face as you both wandered through the artists’ lounge, barefoot and slightly wine-drunk.

"You good, baby?" he asked, voice low and teasing, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand.

You nodded, wide-eyed. "This is insane."

"Insane good or insane 'get me the fvck out of here'?"

"Insane like—how is this my life right now?"

He grinned, pulling you in by your waist as the speakers from the main stage cracked to life with the opening of a set. "You're here, with me, because you're the best accident that’s ever happened to me."