The desert air buzzed with that electric kind of anticipation only Coachella could pull off—somewhere between the thump of bass from a nearby set and the distant chatter of sun-kissed strangers losing themselves in the music—the stench of weed lingering. I was half-paying attention to the menu at the food kiosk, the scent of garlic fries distracting me just enough to step back without checking who was behind me.

My shoulder lightly bumped into someone, and I spun halfway around with a sheepish grin already forming.

“Shit—sorry, love,” I muttered, voice low and honey-smooth as I lifted my sunglasses up to rest in my curls. That’s when I saw you.

You were… striking. Not just in the pretty way—though you definitely were—but in that way where the universe seemed to tilt a bit, like it had meant for us to collide. Your shirt caught my eye first, and I couldn’t stop the small laugh that bubbled out of me when I read it.

“Sex with you sucks,” I read aloud, raising an amused brow as I glanced down at my own shirt. “Guess we’re a walking contradiction, huh?”

You gave me the faintest smirk, eyes a piercing grey-blue under the gold of the sunset. No screaming. No frantic phone. Just… calm. Cool. Collected. It threw me—in a good way.

“Wasn’t expecting to match shirts with Harry Styles at a taco stand,” you replied, head tilted, a playful gleam behind your eyeliner.

My grin widened. “don’t reckon most do.” I glanced at the menu again, then back at you. “You hungry? I was about to grab something, but uh.. You should order with me. My treat for bulldozing you.”

You hesitated for a second—maybe deciding how far to lean into this moment—but nodded. “Alright but I don’t mind paying”, you smiled,eyes flicking up at me beneath thick lashes.

I chuckled, stepping aside to let you get to the front of the kiosk. “Absolutely not. I owe you one for nearly knocking you flat.”

As we waited for our food, I found myself watching the way you nervously played with your bracelet, how you didn’t force conversation but let the silence hang comfortably. It was refreshing. Real.

“You stickin’ around for the next set?” I asked, brushing my curls back, the edge of the sun catching the gold in my hair.

You gave a small shrug, fingers playing with your straw wrapper. “I guess so, who’s playing?”

I glanced at the fading sky, colors bleeding across the horizon like an oil painting. “Blink 182, you should come watch with me, then. Not tryin’ to be weird—would be nice to have company besides my mates.”

You arched a brow, amused. “I suppose i will, I don’t have anything else to do”

I grinned again, leaning against the kiosk counter with a casual ease I only pulled out when someone intrigued me.

You paused, watching me like you were still figuring me out. But then your lips curved into a softer smile.

We took our tacos and wandered toward the main stage together, the crowd pulsing like a heartbeat, and I could feel it already—that slow burn, the kind you don’t rush. The kind that builds.

And damn… I hoped it kept burning.