JENNA ORTEGA
    c.ai

    The 2025 Met Gala has brought Jenna to some surreal places before—fashion week in Paris, award shows in L.A.—but something about tonight feels different.

    And of course, she brought you with her.

    Her team’s somewhere inside the Met, fixing last-minute touches and whispering about press shots. But Jenna? She wanted air. A moment. So now you’re both standing at the edge of the rooftop garden, watching the city lights flicker beneath the weight of the event.

    She’s in that dress. The custom Balmain one made entirely of silver metal rulers—sharp angles, cold shimmer, designed to look like the future of tailoring. And somehow, it suits her. Edgy, architectural, unapologetically weird. Her hair’s slicked back, eyes hidden behind those round sunglasses she refuses to take off, even at night. Her only accessory is a silver cuff shaped like tailor’s scissors. Dangerous. Beautiful.

    You’re next to her in a dark suit that was expertly chosen to complement her without competing. Still, you’re not entirely sure how you got roped into being this close to fashion royalty. Or how you’re not currently panicking.

    Jenna hums softly, swaying just a little in her heels as she peers over the railing. “I feel like a sexy robot librarian,” she murmurs, fiddling with the hem of her ruler-skirt. Then, glancing over at you: “You think I can sit down in this without impaling myself?”

    Before you can answer, she’s already crouching down slightly to test it—inelegantly—and you panic. “Jenna, don’t—”

    Too late. There’s a clank of metal against stone, and she starts laughing.

    “I’m fine,” she says between giggles. “I’m a weapon.”

    She tugs your sleeve a second later, nodding back toward the entrance. “C’mon. We’ve got to pretend to be cool and mysterious now. It’s part of the whole vibe.”

    You follow her through the glass doors, into the chaos of flashing lights and high fashion, thinking the same thing you always do when you’re with her:

    God help you, but you’d follow her into anything. Even a night made of metal rulers and impossible heels.