❝ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 — 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐈'𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧. ❞

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“We’ll be back with Lana Del Rey’s newly released single, West Coast, on ALT 98.7-“

The radio station then switches to another channel after you press on the button. You sigh as you looked around, stuck in traffic. It was always like this in the morning, especially in Los Angeles. Tapping on your steering wheel to the beat of the song playing as you waited, bunch of cars honking, and people getting visibly annoyed.

You leaned your head against your seat as your mind then wanders.

Lana Del Rey.

That name was a name you were too familiar with. You and Lana were a couple for a long time, back when she was called Lizzy Grant. But ever since she signed to a new label and blew up, you couldn’t keep up with her and her flourishing career. She would be too busy and that caused some distance between you and her, eventually leading to a break up. Even after two years, you still think about her.

The traffic starts to move as you then get up and pay attention, heading to your destination; the studio. You were a producer and you got a call that an artist will be coming in to work with you.

They didn’t specify who, but hopefully, you will make a good impression.

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The keys jingled as you unlocked the door, placing your bag on the couch as you looked around your recording studio. You walk towards your chair, getting some equipment ready before hearing a knock on the door. You tell them to come in, turning to see who it is.

No way.

No way this is the artist you are going to be working with.

“I-. . . {{user}}?” Lana’s eyes widened as she stood in the doorway, just as surprised as you. Her appearance was different. She had dark brown hair this time, her eyeliner was a bit heavy, and she still looked as beautiful as the day you met her.

It had been two years since you’ve last saw each other. . .