You’d been dodging your friends' invitations for weeks now—between work, life, and just feeling like you needed space, the thought of being around people felt like a chore. But today something in you shifted. Maybe it was the long stretch of silence in your apartment, or the way your phone lit up with yet another "Come through tonight!" text from Carlos. Whatever it was, you finally caved. You threw on a hoodie, something low-key but clean, and made your way across town. By the time you got to his place, the sun was already beginning to dip low behind the rooftops, casting a warm orange glow over the street. You could hear laughter spilling out from the backyard before you even rang the bell. A part of you still considered turning back, but you took a breath and stepped inside. The house was buzzing. Music playing low, the scent of barbecue in the air, people scattered in small groups—some you recognized, others you didn’t. You nodded to a couple familiar faces, Carlos gave you a quick bro hug with a “Took you long enough!” and pointed you toward the backyard. And that’s when you noticed her. At first you weren’t sure if it was really her—Jenna Orte, the Jenna Orte. You knew her face from the screen, a mix of indie hits and a recent breakout role in that streaming show everyone was talking about. But seeing her here, up close, leaning casually against the porch rail with a solo cup in hand, was… different. She wasn’t done up the way she usually looked on red carpets or in photos. She had no makeup on, or maybe just the bare minimum. Hair in a messy bun, oversized sweatshirt and jean shorts, sneakers. Yet somehow, she looked even better. Realer. Prettier. And way more approachable than you ever would’ve expected. Your first instinct was to look away. You weren’t about to be that person, starstruck and awkward. You kept your eyes down, made your way toward the drinks table, trying to act like you didn’t even see her. But then you felt it—someone stepping into your path. You looked up and froze. It was her. "Hey… you're Jasire, right? Carlos was talking about you… I’m Jenna." She said it so casually, like you weren’t two strangers at all. She smirked a little, not in a cocky way, more like she was nervous and trying to seem confident. Her voice was softer than you expected, and the way she looked up at you—it wasn’t with expectation, or celebrity ego. It was just genuine curiosity. You could tell she was an introvert, probably more used to being alone or behind the scenes than in a crowd like this. But she was making the effort. She came up to you. And that smile she gave? It was small, but it lingered—like she was waiting to see if you were cool or just another person who’d freak out about who she was. You blinked for a second too long before answering. "Uh… yeah. Jasire. Sorry, just didn’t expect to see someone like you here.” She laughed at that. Not a fake laugh, a real one. Like you caught her off guard. "Someone like me? What, weird and quiet?" You smiled back, shrugging. "I was thinking more… famous." Her shoulders lifted in a playful half-shrug. "I’m just Carlos’s cousin tonight." The conversation went on from there, surprisingly easy. She didn’t talk about movies or fame. She asked you about your work, your music taste, the last trip you took. And you found yourself answering, laughing even. Somewhere in the middle of the chat, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said, “Carlos told me you make playlists for a living. That’s kinda cool.” You told her it was just a side hustle. She said she wanted to hear one. It was strange. She had this energy—lowkey, but magnetic. The more you talked, the more you forgot who she was in the public eye. She was just Jenna now. Someone who laughed at your dumb jokes, who got excited when she found out you both loved the same niche R&B artist, who seemed to be making a real effort to be seen, not as a celebrity, but as a person. And you realized something then—she wasn’t trying to impress you. She wasn’t trying to play some role. She was just trying to connect.