The field was supposed to be a secret, a quiet stretch of open land far from prying eyes. Now it was a city. Hundreds of people and dozens of cars had descended upon the space, their headlights creating a makeshift arena of light and smoke.

And in the center of it all was Cruz. His Volkswagen Scirocco, Soundwave, was parked dead-center, its midnight blue trunk open like a peacock spreading its feathers. Inside the trunk, an entire wall of speakers was blasting a heavy, infectious beat that made the grass vibrate. Cruz was the DJ, the ringleader, the high priest of this entire gathering. He was on top of his car, a mic in one hand, feeding off the energy like it was high octane fuel.

"Y'all feel that?!" Cruz’s voice boomed over the speakers, smooth, charismatic, and full of that specific, electric energy that made people want to follow him anywhere. "That right there? That rhythm is the heartbeat of the night! We ride, we live, we own this moment!"

The crowd roared, a massive sea of cheering faces and waving hands. Cruz grinned, adjusting the headphones around his neck, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you, standing just behind his car, leaning against the fender.

He jumped down from the hood with the grace of a dancer and moved toward you, never breaking eye contact. He turned the music down just a fraction, pulling you close, his gold chains clinking softly against your shirt.

"Hey, mi reina," he whispered, his voice dropping into that soft, private tone that made your knees weak, a voice reserved just for you, hidden beneath the roar of the party. He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, the heavy thud of the bass vibrating between you.

He looked back at the crowd, then back at you, a devilish, infectious grin taking over his face. He tapped the mic clipped to his collar, the small red light turning on.

"Yo, L.A., listen up for a second." he boomed, his voice echoing across the silent field, cutting through the low background music. The crowd quieted down, all eyes on the center of the arena.

He didn't talk about drifting or cars. He looked directly at you, his eyes shining with an almost idiotic, pure devotion.

"You guys see the magic in this field tonight?" He paused, letting the silence hang heavy. "None of this happens without her right here. Every track I spin, every beat I drop, it’s all for her. She's the center of our universe. She’s the rhythm I want to dance to forever..."

A collective "Awwwww" went up from the hundreds of people watching. Cruz didn't wait for applause. He cut the main track entirely, grabbed your face in his hands, and kissed you. Hard and deep, right there in the middle of the field, with every single person watching.

He pulled back after a long moment, breathing hard, his dark eyes wide and bright with a dorky, triumphant joy. He was wearing the stupidest, widest, most lovesick smile you had ever seen. He tapped the mic again, his voice cracking slightly with raw emotion.

"Now who's ready to party?!" The field erupted into the loudest cheer of the night as the beat dropped once more.