HIM
You’ve always known you were a good singer; it came naturally to you. You can memorize the notes to a song the first time you hear it. You also know you’re meant to be famous. You feel it. You know your mediocre life is just material for your future memoir. You can picture it: standing on the stage of a sold-out arena, fans singing along to your top hit, the warmth of the spotlights on you, the thunderous applause. But for now, you're stuck in an office job that drains the life out of you. As you scroll through your phone, you see the celebrities you want to be like one day—Adele, Bruno Mars, Sabrina Carpenter. You crave that life. You want the luxuries, the fame, and you know you have to fight for the future you want.
When you get home from work, you call your friend Lucia to catch up. You share how your lives are going and try to make plans for the upcoming weekend. You know you need to get out, drink, and dance your woes away. Lucia is the friend you can always count on for a great time, no matter what. She’s beautiful—her long black hair contrasts gorgeously with her tanned skin. She’s short but feisty and always has your back in a fight. Whenever you two go to a bar or club, men (and sometimes women) flock to you both. You know you garner attention and use it to your advantage, scoring free drinks and even seats in the VIP sections of nightclubs.
“I want to try something new,” you tell her. You’re tired of the same old clubs around LA, and after the grueling week you’ve had, you want to explore uncharted waters. “There’s that new club opening in Hollywood… I can’t remember the name of it,” Lucia says.
“Oh! ‘The Penthouse,’” you say. “I heard it’s supposed to be close to impossible to get in.”
Some famous music producer has opened this club, rumored to be the most luxurious and exhilarating in LA, but also the most exclusive. All the hottest celebrities are posting about its grand opening on social media. You know it’ll be a challenge to get in.
“Let me make a couple of calls and pull some strings,” she says. If anyone can get you into the hottest new nightclub in Hollywood, it’s Lucia and her “contacts”—people she’s met in VIP sections at clubs. “Give me 15 minutes and I’ll get us on the list. Pull your hottest dress out of your closet and get ready. I’ll pick you up at 10 p.m.,” Lucia says in her usual commanding yet loving tone.
“Okay, okay, haha. Text me the deets,” you reply, then begin the hunt for the perfect dress.
Fifteen minutes later, you're staring at your phone, smiling ear to ear.
Lucia <3: Romeo hooked it up.
You: Romeo, who?
Lucia <3: Remember that guy I ‘dated’ in the summer?
You: Yeah?
Lucia <3: Well, I slept with his brother, who just got a job as a bouncer at The Penthouse!!!!
You: So we have his brother to thank??? lol
Lucia <3: Thank ME because we are going to The MOTHERFUCKING PENTHOUSE!!!!!!
You: THANK YOUUUUUUU I LOVE YOU SM! I'll see you at 10!
You realize your outfit needs to be perfect. After all, who knows who you might meet tonight? Rummaging through your neatly hung dresses, you begin tossing them onto your bed, searching for the one. Just as you're about to give up, you remember that dress you’ve been saving for a "special occasion." This has to be it.
It’s breathtaking: a deep plum number that glows against your complexion. Rhinestones accentuate the side cutout, perfectly framing the curve of your hip. The skintight fabric hugs your figure, the sweetheart neckline showcases your cleavage, and the hem stops just below your butt. You can't help but think you look HOT. “This is the one,” you whisper to yourself.
You sit at your vanity to finish your look. A brown smoky eye paired with glossy nude lips keeps things dramatic yet polished. Your curls from the day before only need a quick refresh. A spritz of perfume later, you’re slipping into your black Louis Vuitton heels. Sure, they’re painful, but for The Penthouse? Totally worth it.
Lucia <3: I’m 5 mins away.
You: Okay!
As you step outside, your jaw drops. “What the hell is this?” you laugh, staring at the idling black stretch limo outside your apartment. Its glowing under-lights and illuminated Mercedes step are next-level. Lucia grins, stepping out of the limo in her sequined dress. “We needed to roll up in style,
and Sebastian hooked it up!”
“Sebastian?” you ask.
“Long story…GET IN!”
The hour-long drive flies by thanks to endless champagne and loud music. Pulling up to the club feels surreal. Spotlights sweep across the night sky, cameras flash wildly, and a line of hopeful partygoers stretches for what seems like a mile.
“Oh my god, that’s the line?” you say, already feeling anxious.
“Relax. Since we’re on the list, we go straight to the red carpet,” Lucia assures you.
Even so, your palms are clammy as you approach the paparazzi-lined entrance. “What if I can’t do it?” you whisper.
“Look at me,” Lucia says, gripping your arm. “You look incredible, and who knows—your soulmate could be in there. You’re strutting in, and they’re all going to gawk at your beauty.”
Her words, plus the champagne, are enough. Next thing you know, flashes blind you as you walk the carpet. Reaching the door, Lucia effortlessly charms the bouncer—who, apparently, is Romeo’s brother—and you’re in.
The club is staggering. Lights pulse in time with the bass, and a massive, glowing dance floor dominates the room. You and Lucia make a beeline for the bar, weaving through the crowd. “Two Cosmopolitans, please,” you shout at the bartender, barely audible over the music.
As the bartender mixes your drinks, a voice behind you says, “That’s a very stereotypical drink.”
You turn to see the source: a tall, blonde man with striking blue eyes and a teasing smile.
“Well, I like them sweet. What can I say?” you reply with a flirty tone.
“I’m Boyd,” he says, extending a hand.
“Nice to meet you. But what’s your first name?” you ask, confused.
He chuckles. “That is my first name—Boyd Holbrook.”
The realization hits and your cheeks flush, but you recover quickly. “I’m Starr—Lia Starr,” you reply.
Boyd pays for your drinks and tells you he’ll be in the VIP section if you want to join him later. You return to Lucia, grinning like an idiot.
“Do you know who that was?!” she practically screams.
“Uh, Boyd? Why?”
“That’s Boyd Holbrook! He’s on that Netflix show Narcos!”
No wonder he seemed familiar. After dancing to a few songs—Pitbull, of course—you feel his gaze from the VIP section. His eyes stay locked on you as you sway your hips to the beat. When he curls his finger, beckoning you over, you grab Lucia and head for the velvet ropes.
Boyd greets you warmly and introduces you to his friends—an impressive lineup of Narcos cast members. Finally, he gestures to someone and says, “And this is Pedro…”
Your eyes meet Pedro’s, and the world goes silent. Time slows as you take in his chiseled features, chestnut curls, and expressive brown eyes. He smiles, and it’s like the entire club fades away. The spark is undeniable, electric.
In that moment, you know: you’ve just met someone unforgettable.
The moment felt like a gravitational pull—a silent understanding that the universe had conspired to bring you and this man, this Pedro, face-to-face. Your heart pounded, and the noise of the club melted into white noise. You managed to break the trance long enough to extend your hand, praying your palm wasn’t clammy.
“Hi, I’m Lia,” you said, your voice steady but soft.
Pedro’s smile grew, warm and inviting, as he took your hand in his. His touch was firm but gentle, the kind of touch that made you feel seen. “Pedro,” he said, his accent smooth, adding to the charm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lia.”
Boyd broke the moment with a laugh. “Careful, Pedro. Lia’s already got me under her spell.”
You flushed, unsure whether Boyd’s comment was playful or teasing, but Pedro seemed unfazed. “I can see why,” Pedro said, his gaze not leaving yours.
Lucia gave you a nudge with her elbow, snapping you back to reality. “Ahem, drinks?” she reminded you.
“Right,” you said, letting out a small laugh. “We need another round.”
“Allow me,” Pedro offered, signaling the server in the VIP section. “What’s your poison?”
“Metropolitan,” you said, trying to maintain composure.
“A sweet choice,” he noted with a soft chuckle. “I’ll take care of it.”
As Pedro placed the order, you couldn’t help but admire him further—the way he carried himself, his deep, measured voice, and the ease with which he commanded attention without trying. When he turned back to you, holding your gaze, you felt a rush of excitement and a pang of nervousness.
Lucia leaned in close and whispered in your ear, “I think he likes you. Don’t mess this up.” Her words were a mixture of teasing and encouragement, but they lit a spark of determination within you.
The drinks arrived, and Pedro handed yours to you with a gentle smile. “So, Lia,” he began, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music, “what brings you here tonight? Celebrating something?”
You hesitated for a moment, wondering how much of your office-drudgery-to-nightclub-glamour transformation you should reveal. “Not exactly,” you said. “I guess you could say I’m chasing a dream.”
Pedro raised a brow, intrigued. “A dream? Now you have my attention. Tell me more.”
The way he looked at you made you feel bold, like you could say anything, and he’d hang on to your every word. “I’m a singer,” you said, the words tumbling out more confidently than you’d expected. “Well, I want to be. Right now, it’s more of a dream than a reality.”
Pedro tilted his head slightly, as if to study you. “A singer,” he echoed. “That’s a beautiful dream. What’s stopping you?”
You felt exposed, like he could see right through the carefully constructed walls you’d built around your aspirations. “Fear, mostly,” you admitted. “And time. Life gets in the way, you know?”
Pedro nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I understand that. But fear,” he said, his voice dipping lower, “fear is just an obstacle waiting to be conquered.”
Before you could respond, Boyd called out from behind Pedro. “Alright, enough of the motivational speeches, Pedro. Lia, let’s hear you sing! Prove it to us.”
Your eyes widened. “Here? Now?” you asked, your heart racing.
Pedro stepped in, his smile reassuring. “No pressure,” he said. “But if you feel like it, I’d love to hear you too.”
“How about a dance first?” you said, taking his hand and leading him out of the VIP section and onto the dance floor. The DJ kept the energy high with fast-paced tracks, and you moved with confidence, unapologetically showing off every sway and turn. You knew you had the moves, so why not own the moment?
Pedro was quick to join in, his steps occasionally playful and a little unpolished, but his charisma more than made up for it. His laughter and easy energy only pulled you in further, making the connection between you even more electric.
Then the mood shifted as the DJ transitioned into a sensual R&B track, the tempo slowing but thick with intimacy. This wasn’t a song for flashy moves—it was made for closeness. Without hesitation, Pedro stepped closer, slipping his hand to the small of your back. His touch was firm yet gentle, guiding you into him as your arms naturally found their place around his neck.
The world seemed to fall away as the two of you moved in sync, your bodies perfectly aligned. His leg slid between yours, sending a spark of heat through you, and the sensation left you breathless. Your fingers brushed against the defined muscles of his back, a silent reminder of his strength, his presence. At this proximity, you could truly take him in—the sharp lines of his jaw, the warm depth in his eyes, and the faint smirk playing on his lips.
Every movement felt effortless, as if you’d done this a hundred times before. Yet the intensity of the moment made it feel entirely new—charged, intoxicating, and entirely your own.
“You’re incredible,” Pedro murmured, his voice just audible above the music.
You felt your cheeks heat, but you didn’t look away. “So are you,” you replied, surprised at how steady your voice sounded despite the rush of emotions coursing through you.
He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through you. “I’m not sure about my moves, but I’ll take the compliment.”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You’re better than you think. And confidence goes a long way.”
The music shifted again—still slow and intimate but with an air of finality, as if the moment was asking for something more. Pedro leaned in slightly, his lips just inches from your ear. “You’re full of surprises, Lia. First the dancing, and now I can’t stop wondering about that voice of yours.”
Your pulse quickened. “I’m not sure I’m ready to prove Boyd right just yet,” you teased, though the truth was you were scared of breaking this perfect moment.
Pedro pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression serious but tender. “You don’t have to impress anyone tonight—not Boyd, not me. Just yourself.”
The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave. You weren’t sure how he managed it, but Pedro had peeled back a layer of you that you rarely let anyone see. It made you want to trust him, to let him see more.
The song ended, and for a moment, the spell broke as the crowd around you erupted into cheers and whistles. Pedro took a step back, his hand lingering on yours. “Let me buy you another drink,” he said with a grin. “Dancing like that deserves a reward.”
You nodded, unable to suppress your own smile. As the two of you made your way back to the VIP section, Lucia caught your arm, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh my God, Lia. Who is this man? You two looked like you were in your own little movie out there.”
“I don’t know,” you said honestly, glancing back at Pedro as he ordered drinks at the bar. He caught your eye and gave you a wink, and you felt your stomach flip. “But I think I want to find out.”