Chapter 1

New York is magical in the spring. It’s like stepping into a book’s second act– the part when the perfect protagonist is more problematic than the reader believed. Winter’s grit still lingers in the corners, not gonna lie. I’m still wearing my warm, thick jacket that I spent a small fortune on it… But it’s Dior so, can you really blame me? Not like money is an issue for me. I have money to support myself and pretty much 5 next generations of my future kids and grandkids. The only thing is that, I think I’ll end this life alone. Okay, yeah, maybe I’m a bit dramatic, but these are just the thoughts that pass right through me lately…

All my exes were pigs-no offense to actual pigs, because frankly, they don’t deserve the comparison. My exes were worse. Take Josh, for example. He was the last guy I dated, and he ditched me for another woman saying we had nothing in common. Before him was Patrick, and to be fair, he’s the only one I still talk to. Turns out he was into guys and just hadn’t figured it out yet when we were together, so with that one we had a very particular thing in common. He didn’t cheat, lie, or play games. Neither of us hurt the other, so our breakup was smooth and very friendly. We still check in now and then, no hard feelings.

So maybe I should take back what I said-not all my exes were pigs. Patrick gets a pass. He’s the exception. Before Patrick, it was mostly flings-brief, shallow, and usually disappointing. Most of those guys either ghosted me or stopped calling after a couple of months, tops. Some didn’t even last that long. To be honest, I ghosted a couple too, but I always felt guilty and eventually reached out to apologize. I couldn’t leave things hanging without some kind of closure. That’s just not me.

Last week I went out with a guy, his name was Ken… Ken Adams yes, Ken Adams. He was so charming, although he was kind of weird about his food, but I went to his apartment we did what we did and he said he’d call me. Spoiler alert, he never did!

So yeah, in a nutshell; I’ll die alone. Men are a lost case and women… I’m scared to talk to them and everytime I do we end up friends. My bi ass will never get a girl… I’ve always been into girls too. Only very few people know it. When I was younger though, it was me, myself and I, because of my family. They would never accept it, they would never accept me.

So, I left. Just packed up and left. And now here I am-New York City. The dream. I honestly can’t even remember when it started, this obsession with the city, but it’s been years. I’m 22 now, and I’ve already done some pretty wild things in my life. Mostly tech stuff-coding, cybersecurity, algorithms, all that. Long story short, I started coding when I was around 13, got serious by 15, and somehow ended up making tens of thousands before I could even vote. Then came crypto. At first, it was just a side thing-small trades, testing the waters. Eventually, I went all in with Bitcoin and a few other coins. Call it luck, call it instinct, but it paid off. Big time. Fast forward to today, and I’ve got hundreds of millions sitting in various accounts. No one knows. I keep it quiet. No interviews, no Instagram flexing, no flashy headlines. I like being low-key. Publicity? My social anxiety could never.

My most recent investment was in fashion. I bought a major stake in Versace, -if I’m not mistaken, just about a month ago. Now I’m supposedly involved in one of their upcoming campaigns. They told me over the phone that I need to show up today, something about a shoot. I thought it was for photos, but maybe it’s a commercial? Honestly, I wasn’t paying much attention. How could I when I read on my phone that THE Sabrina Carpenter is currently in the same damn city on the same damn time as I am.

Like, what do you mean I might breath the same air as her?!?!

But anyway, now I’m headed to this… whatever it is. Commercial? Photoshoot? No clue. I’m walking, because I refuse to deal with New York traffic. My mental health can’t take another hit today. They said something about a celebrity being the face of the campaign, which, okay, that’s interesting. Maybe that’s my silver lining-maybe I’ll meet someone famous. And let’s be honest, I’ve got things to do. I’m rich, sure, but I won’t stay that way if I keep wasting days shooting ads or videos or whatever this is. Still… meeting a celeb? Yes please.

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I arrived on the set and I saw everybody in panic mode; tense voices, frantic footsteps, the whole package.

What the hell is going on?!

I grab the nearest assistant, some kid with a headset and eyes wide open, look of a man who’d just seen a ghost.

“She’s late” he blurts. “Like, maybe-never-show-up late”
I let a loud and dramatic groan, but my anger is quickly replaced by curiosity. So it’s a she… But who could it be? I called Emmanuel on the phone.

y/n: “Hey, Emmanuel. It’s y/n!

Emmanuel: “Hey doll! What happened?”

y/n: “Well… Your ‘star’ hasn’t arrived yet and I’m calling to inform you that, if she’s not here in 20 minutes I’m out”, I said completely calmly

Emmanuel: “Wait, what?? She’s not there yet?! I’m so so sorry, I’ll call her, oh my goodness that cannot be good…”

y/n: “Wait, Emmanuel! Who is-“, I didn’t have time to finish my sentence and he hung up. So I waited. After 10 or so minutes I heard it. Someone yelled “she’s here”— I shot up from the chair like I’d just been hit with a jolt of electricity and craned my neck, rising onto my toes like a damn meerkat in an oversized hoodie and sweats. I like dressing casually, it’s comfy. Light makeup, messy ban, golden jewelry, Im totally not ideally dressed to meet a celeb, but meh, it can’t be that bad right? Who plans for this stuff anyways…

I walk closer to see the person surrounded by the whole crew and her bodyguards. I continue to see nothing at all so I go even closer and then I see, her. My stomach dropped–no, actually, it straight-up vanished the second I saw her. My heart was pounding so loudly I could feel it in my ears. It was not just fast– it was violent. A flush creeped up my cheeks–hot, relentless– making them a shade of pink never seen before. My mouth? Dry— like desert, no, death valley levels of dry. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I just stared at her.

She was wearing a navy polo shirt and a white mini-bubble skirt by Miu Miu, black platform heels, high, white socks and glasses. And Jeez those glasses on her made me feel so mentally and physically unwell. She smiled at someone and tilted her head in that way she always does in interviews and music videos and whatever-the way that makes it impossible to look away.
I was absolutely mesmerized by her. And it was stupid, so so stupid. She was just looking around, just existing, and I? I was fighting for dear life a few meters away. But, could you blame me? What are even the chances, the face of the campaign to be, Sabrina. Fucking. Carpenter.

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Heyyy!! Hope you liked this first chapter!!☺️ Please leave comments or any recommendations you have, I’ll be so happy to read em all! Btw sorry if this was a bit boring i wanted to introduce y/n a bit 🙏

Also so sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language!🥴 I promise to try and write as fast as I can if this gets many reads, especially now that I have the school final exams

Anyways, thank you soso much for reading this and I really hope y’all liked it!!

P.S. I think we all know the outfit Sabrina was wearing, no pic needed 😝