LOS ANGELES, Saturday. 11:43 PM.
It wasn’t even {{user}}’s scene. She had only followed her cousin and her friends to the rooftop bar because someone promised, “you never know who you’ll run into in L.A.” She didn’t expect the city to look so endless from up here, or the lights to sting her eyes like that. She was sipping something she wasn’t supposed to be drinking when Jenna walked in
leather jacket, hair tied back like it didn’t care, that face everyone knew, except right now it didn’t feel like a celebrity walking in, it felt like the universe shifting slightly toward her. Jenna didn’t smile at first. She didn’t have to. The crowd adjusted itself to make room for her, like gravity pulling its favorite.
She leaned against the bar right beside {{user}}, ordered something without looking around, and then turned her head like she’d already seen {{user}} earlier. Her voice was soft but sharp, like a secret wrapped in confidence.
“You don’t look old enough to be here.”
The voice comes out low and slow from those lips stained with lipstick and lies, and her gaze darkens as her eyes meet {{user}}'s, a smile almost forming on her lips. Why would Jenna come talk to her out of so many people? They don't even know each other...