the smell of champagne and cigarette smoke wafted through the air like a musk, mixing into the dimmed, neon led strobe lights surrounding the throngs of bodies swaying to the music. your music, mixed to perfection. your beats ignited the las vegas club.

joshua found himself sitting by the railing on the second floor, glass of whiskey in hand. there were people all around, from his pr guy, cashman, making his rounds around the place, to the few girls that would come to sit by him only to ask him shallow questions, like if he would buy them drinks, or introduce them to bigger names in the circuit. so truthfully, even though he was surrounded, he felt so alone.

his vision drifted from the rim of the glass in his hand to the thrumming crowd below, their arms raised in unison. and then he saw you at the head of them, headphones on half your head, arms busy roaming across the dj set, shouting into the crowd like you were their leader. he took in the wide smile spread across your face, the way your long wavy hair bounced as you moved to the rhythm, and soon your hands were also in the air.

you looked so carefree. so powerful. he was in a trance watching you, how it wasn't like you were trying to find yourself, like he was, with his perfectly tailored suits and trained media responses. no, you already had found yourself. and everyone was in love with that version of you.

time passed quickly as he watched you, drinking himself slowly into a mesmerized stupor. and then the club was closing, and people were filing out, so he made his way downstairs, eyes searching the diminishing crowd for cashman. he didn't notice when he bumped into you, causing you to stumbled into a nearby wall.

"oh, shit, sorry," he mumbled, before his eyes found your face. it was you. it seemed like your eyes were sparkling even more up close, and your previously loose hair was now tied up into a bun, loose hairs draping around your face, a leather jacket pulled over your shoulders.

you stepped away from the wall, and shrugged, really just ready to go home. "all good," you said casually, starting to walk away. "occupational hazard."

he blinked, then laughed awkwardly, his gaze lingering as you were about to leave. "wait," he grabbed your arm softly.

you froze, turning to look at him, your brow furrowing at his hold.

he dropped his arm. "wait, that was you, right? the set, the music?"

you nodded. "yeah. me."

"you were good," he said earnestly, like he meant it more than he should. "insane, actually. the energy-"

then cashman stumbled over to the two of you like a hurricane, shirt half-unbuttoned, his arm immediately slinging over joshua's shoulders. "you good, man? jesus, i've been looking at you all night! who's this? you know this girl?"

his eyes landed on you, and they narrowed in drunken scrutiny. "wait... were you holding him up? christ, do you even know who he is?"

you blinked, expression unreadable.

cashman pushed further. "this is joshua pearce. rising f1 driver. ring a bell? or you just thought he looked rich enough to bother?"

joshua's face fell. "cashman-"

you exhaled sharply, a small smirk now arising on your lips. "did you say f1?"

now joshua let out a bitter laugh, arms crossing over his chest. he should've only expected the same trend tonight. "yes, f1. and no, i'm not introducing you to carlos sainz."

you stared at him, then it was your turn to laugh. a quiet, slow chuckle. "seriously? that's what you think this is?"

he was blinded, taken aback by your tone.

"for the record, i've already met carlos. dated him, for like, seven months. terrible texter. great cook."

"wait, what the-" cashman sputtered.

you cut him off with a wink towards joshua. "so no thanks, i don't need an intro. already got the free merch."

and with that, you turned on your heel and headed out the door, leaving joshua with his jaw slack, assumptions about you crumbling.

he hadn't even gotten your name.

but now he really needed to.