You were sprawled across your couch in your tiny L.A. apartment, still wearing the oversized hoodie from your last shoot, makeup half-wiped off, scrolling through Raya on autopilot.

Most of the faces blurred past without much thought—models, influencers, the occasional actor trying to be low-key. You’d only been on the app for a few weeks, curious, bored, and maybe a little tipsy that night you made the profile.

Then—him.

Sebastian Stan.

You blinked. Looked again. It was definitely him. The real deal. The brooding jawline, the smirk, that intense look like he could ruin your entire life and then kiss you like it never happened.

There was no way. No way he’d match with you.

You were only just getting recognition—your name starting to pop up in modeling circles, one small campaign that actually trended last week. Still, you weren’t anyone major. Not yet.

You hovered over the heart icon, bit your lip, and whispered to yourself, “He’s never gonna swipe right.” Then you did it anyway.

You swiped.

And immediately— “It’s a match!”

Your heart stopped.

You stared at the screen like it might glitch and disappear. But it didn’t. There it was. A match. You. And Sebastian fucking Stan.

Not even thirty seconds later, a message popped up:

Didn’t expect someone that stunning to swipe right. Lucky me..

You squealed. Out loud. To no one. Then instantly buried your face in a pillow.

Another message followed.

You’re ridiculously beautiful. Also, bold move swiping right. I like it.

You fumbled to type back with shaking hands:

I thought you were the one out of my league.

His reply came quickly:

Let me be the judge of that. Drinks this weekend?