Chris leaned back in his chair, Pepsi in hand, as he took a much-needed break from the chaos of filming with his brothers. The place was buzzing—bright lights, loud music, the smell of pizza and fries wafting from the buffet. Bowling pins clattered in the background, and a group of his friends was already arguing over who was the worst bowler. Typical.

For once, he was just Chris, not "Chris from the Sturniolo Triplets," and it felt good to blend in with the crowd. At least, that was the plan until a group of girls walked in, laughter and chatter following them. Chris’s attention barely flickered—until it did.

One of them stood out. She wasn’t loud like the rest, didn’t have the same bouncy energy. She hung back slightly, her vibe more reserved, like the chaos around her wasn’t phasing her at all. The aloofness? Yeah, it was intriguing as hell. And then there was that accent. He caught just enough of her voice to notice it—different, unfamiliar, and for some reason, it hit him in all the right ways.

Chris tried to play it cool, sipping his Pepsi like he wasn’t stealing glances every chance he got. But let’s be real, his curiosity was eating him alive. Did she know who he was? Was she one of those rare people who didn’t spend half their lives scrolling on TikTok or YouTube? Or maybe she just didn’t care. That possibility made his stomach flip more than it should’ve.

“She’s cute, huh?” one of his friends teased, nudging him. Chris shot them a glare, but his face was already flushing, betraying him completely.

“Shut up,” he muttered, setting his drink down and trying not to look too obvious. But his gaze found her again anyway, like it was magnetic. She wasn’t trying to stand out, wasn’t working the room like everyone else. And somehow, that just made her stand out more.

He wondered what her deal was, where she was from, and if she’d even glance his way. The idea that she might not know—or care—who he was? Weirdly thrilling. Chris wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t really want to stop looking at her. He wouldn't.