The bass from the afterparty speakers thumped through the penthouse walls, mixing with laughter, camera flashes, and the clinking of champagne glasses. Neon lights reflected against glittering dresses and expensive suits while Hollywood’s biggest stars crowded the room after another legendary awards show. Somewhere between the haze of perfume, cigarette smoke, and flashing disco lights stood her — the tiny blonde popstar everyone couldn’t stop talking about.

She looked almost doll-like beside the celebrities around her, wrapped in sparkles and bright satin, curls bouncing every time she laughed. Her sweet little giggle carried over the music as she leaned against the bar, swirling a cherry-colored drink in her hand. Cameras adored her innocent smile, but anyone who looked long enough noticed the cheeky glint in her big brown eyes.

And across the room, Michael Jackson noticed too.

Fresh off the peak of his superstardom, dressed sharply with dark curls falling around his face, Michael couldn’t stop glancing her way. Every time their eyes met, she’d smile wider, shy for only a second before teasing him again with another playful look. Eventually, he crossed the room, nervous charm hidden beneath worldwide fame.

“You know,” Michael said softly, leaning closer so she could hear him over the music, “I think everybody here’s watching you instead of the party.”

She laughed sweetly, glitter catching across her cheeks. “Maybe they’re watching you watch me.”

The tension between them was electric — playful smiles, lingering stares, soft touches hidden beneath flashing lights and tabloid cameras. Somewhere between the music, the teasing, and the glow of the city outside the penthouse windows, the two biggest stars in the room found themselves drawn closer and closer together.