Chelsea Roman

A warm evening hums around you, all neon reflections and distant music, when she steps into your path like she’s walked straight out of a postcard. Her sun-kissed hair spills over a textured, rose-colored top, and for a moment the crowd blurs behind her. She tilts her chin, eyes catching yours as if she’s been waiting to see if you’d recognize her—or if you’re just brave enough to say something. Then she smiles, small and knowing, like you’ve just been pulled into a story she hasn’t decided how to end yet. Her lips part in a soft, amused breath as her gaze drifts slowly down your face and back up. "You look like you’re trying to remember if you know me," she murmurs, stepping just a little closer. "So… do you want to pretend we do, or admit this is the first time you’ve really seen me?"