Super Bowl Sunday
Los Angeles was known for its sleek, ultra-modern homes—massive glass walls, infinity pools that blended seamlessly with the skyline, and minimalist interiors that screamed wealth. But tucked away in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood, hidden from the buzzing chaos of Hollywood, sat a house that felt like it belonged in a different era entirely. It wasn't a cold, contemporary mansion—it was a storybook retreat.
The home was a Tudor-style masterpiece, its steeply pitched roof and ivy-covered brick exterior giving it the appearance of something straight out of a fairytale. Towering oak trees surrounded the estate, their ancient branches swaying gently in the wind, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone pathway that led to the arched wooden door. Inside, the warmth continued—dark wood beams stretched across the high ceilings, fireplaces crackled in nearly every room, and soft golden light spilled from antique chandeliers, giving the entire space a magical glow. Plush, oversized sofas, vintage rugs, and shelves lined with books made the house feel more like a sanctuary than the home of one of Hollywood's biggest stars.
And at this moment, giggles echoed through the grand living room, filling the space with an infectious, girlish energy.
Sitting in the heart of it all, sprawled on the couch with a flask of water in hand, was none other than Hollywood's current It-girl—Sydney Sweeney. Fresh off the massive success of Euphoria's second season, which had taken the world by storm, and the critically acclaimed film Reality, she was at the peak of her career. Offers were rolling in, her schedule was packed for the next year, and yet, right now, none of that mattered. Today wasn't about work.
Today was about taking a well-deserved break.
She had gathered her closest friends for a girls' day, an escape from the flashing cameras and endless scripts. The Super Bowl was happening, sure, but the real entertainment was inside these walls—drinks, gossip, and the kind of laughter that only comes when you're completely at ease.
"Oh my God, Jacob is just so insanely hot! I can't believe you didn't go all the way with him—especially after that scene. Lord knows what I would have done to him," Cynthia blurted out, her voice laced with playful desperation.
Sydney nearly choked on her water. "Cynthia, what?!"
Cynthia shrugged, dramatically fanning herself. "I mean, can you blame me? That last episode? That bed scene? The way he ripped your fishnets? The look in your eyes? I swear to God, that was not acting. That was—"
"Acting. That's the word you're looking for," Sydney cut in, rolling her eyes as she curled her legs up onto the couch.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." Cynthia waved a dismissive hand. "I'm just saying, the chemistry was next-level. Like, come on, we all saw it."
"It's called being good actors." Sydney took another sip of her water, shaking her head at her friend's dramatics. "Get your mind out of the gutter."
"You shouldn't be the one talking about gutter behavior right now, though," Bella smirked, arching a brow.
Sydney gasped, scandalized. "Not you too, Bella!" she said, grabbing a couch pillow and launching it at her friend. The room erupted into laughter again, the sound filling every corner of the cozy home.
As the laughter faded, Sydney leaned back, a mischievous smile creeping onto her lips. She ran a hand through her perfectly tousled blonde waves and, in a slow, sultry voice, whispered, "Right now, though… I have someone else I'd much rather do those scenes with."
The air in the room shifted.
Cynthia's eyes narrowed. "Hmm..."
Bella leaned forward. "So, how's the pop star?"
Sydney barely had time to answer before Cynthia snapped her head toward them. "Wait—what pop star?" she asked, blinking in confusion.
Sydney and Bella exchanged a look. "What do you mean, what pop star?" Sydney asked, staring at her friend. "Didn't I tell you already? And why did you even give the eye if you didn't know who I was talking about?"
"I thought you were talking about Jonathan! Isn't he the one?" Cynthia said, her face twisting in confusion.
Sydney groaned. "Jonathan and I broke up months ago."
"Yeah, I know, but didn't you say he started texting you again? Trying to reconnect?" Cynthia asked, as if she were the reasonable one here.
"He was, but I shut that down after the concert. I told you this—I'm sure I did."
Bella sighed, ever the voice of reason. "Just tell her again. You know how she is."
"Hey!" Cynthia huffed, crossing her arms. "What do you mean, 'how I am'? That sounds like a slur."
Sydney and Bella burst into laughter.
After a moment, Sydney shook her head, still giggling. "Okay, okay. Let me tell you everything again."
"First time," Cynthia corrected quickly, cutting her off.
Sydney laughed. "Okay, fine. For the first time."
And so, she told the story. Again.
She painted the picture—how their eyes had met across the crowd at the concert, how that moment had lingered, stretching on like something out of a dream. The way he had looked at her, as if she was the only person in the entire arena. The first meeting backstage, the awkward but undeniably charming flirting. The way his hand had lingered on her arm, his touch warm, his fingers barely letting go. Then the texts—every morning, every night. A steady rhythm of good morning and good night, with messages in between that made her laugh at the most random times of the day. And then, the call.
A few nights ago, at exactly 12:00 AM, he had called her just to be the first to wish her a good morning.
The past few months had been magical. Sydney had felt herself falling, fast and hard, even though it had only been a little over a month since they had met. The attention, the care, the way he always made sure to check in—it was different. It was special.
And she had no idea where it was going.
But, for once, she wasn't overthinking it.
She was just letting herself feel.
And damn, did it feel good.
As Sydney finished recounting the entire story, a dreamy smile lingered on her lips. She glanced up, expecting some kind of reaction, but instead, she found her two best friends staring at her—wide-eyed, smug grins plastered on their faces.
"What?" she asked, blinking in confusion. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Bella leaned forward, arms crossed, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Girl, you are gone," she declared dramatically.
Cynthia burst into laughter, nodding along. "Oh yeah. Gone. Absolutely gone."
Sydney scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What are you even saying? That's ridiculous."
Bella just laughed harder. "Sydney, please. Look at yourself. Your face is literally red. The way you were talking about him? You should've seen yourself—gushing, grinning like an idiot, blushing. You like him. Like, really like him. Why are you even trying to deny it?"
Before Sydney could protest, Cynthia threw in the final blow. "Okay, bye-bye, Jacob Elordi. And hello Ethan Jones."
That did it. Sydney's eyes widened as she groaned, grabbing a pillow from the couch and hurling it at Cynthia, who just dodged it, laughing hysterically.
"Okay, okay, enough!" Sydney waved her hands, trying to shut them up. "Fine. I admit it. I really like him." She sighed, running a hand through her hair as the realization fully settled within her.
Her friends immediately started giggling again, but before they could get too carried away, she quickly added, "But—" she pointed at them firmly—"I don't think it would work out."
Bella and Cynthia both shouted in unison, "What?! Why?!"
Sydney huffed, leaning back against the couch. "Because I've told you guys before—I don't want to date someone in the entertainment industry. I've always said that."
Her friends suddenly went quiet, listening as she continued. "I mean, just think about it. I don't want a super public relationship, especially with someone as huge as Ethan. The press, the drama, the constant speculation—it's exhausting. And with my schedule, I don't even have time for anything serious. Now that I finally have some free time, he's the one who's busy. He's on tour. You know the stories about singers on tour."
Cynthia nodded, seeming to consider her words. "Yeah... that's true."
Sydney bobbed her head in agreement. "Exactly. Like, sure, he's sweet, but how do I really know? What if it's all just... a front? People in this industry can be so different behind closed doors."
For a second, it seemed like her friends understood where she was coming from. But then Bella scoffed loudly, shaking her head. "That is literally the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
Sydney gasped, sitting up straight. "Excuse me?!"
Cynthia, just as shocked, swatted Bella's arm. "Bella!"
"No, seriously! Do you hear yourself?" Bella gestured toward Sydney like she was some kind of lost cause. "First of all, you want a private life? Sydney, have you looked at yourself? You're starring in one of the hottest TV shows, with more movies lined up than you can count. If you step outside right now, I guarantee there are paparazzi camped out near your house. So let's be real—your life is already very much public with or without him."
Sydney opened her mouth, but Bella wasn't done. "And about the whole 'singers on tour' thing—you literally just said he's sweet. So why are you assuming the worst? Maybe he's different. Also, why are you even overthinking all this relationship drama? You guys barely know each other. Just have fun. Get to know him. Enjoy yourself. This is still the talking stage—why are you making it more complicated than it needs to be?"
Sydney sat there, momentarily stunned into silence.
Cynthia let out a low whistle. "Damn, Bella, don't hold back or anything."
Sydney finally found her voice, her arms crossed. "Okay, genius, since you apparently know everything, how do you suggest we 'get to know each other' when he's literally too busy for me? He's on tour. He barely has any free time."
Bella rolled her eyes, unfazed. "It's simple. You're free right now, right? So just go meet him on tour."
Sydney's jaw dropped. "What?! What are you even saying? I can't just... show up like that! That's crazy! What would I even say? 'Hey, surprise! I randomly flew across the country just to see you!' What if he thinks I'm being too much? Why would you even suggest something like that?!"
Bella just rolled her eyes again. "Sydney, relax. Why isn't it that easy? Just go, surprise him. Say you miss him or something. See how he reacts. It's literally not that deep."
Sydney opened her mouth again, ready to argue, but before she could, Cynthia—who had been quiet for a suspiciously long time—suddenly sat up, eyes wide.
"Or," Cynthia said carefully, "you could meet him right now."
Both Sydney and Bella whipped their heads toward her. "What are you talking about?" Sydney asked, her brows furrowing.
Cynthia, now scrolling on her phone, hurriedly replied, "It's about Ethan. Apparently, he's in LA right now."
Sydney blinked. "Yeah, I know. He came to shoot a music video. He told me all of that himself. He's leaving right after. He's crazy busy. I know he's not staying long."
Cynthia hesitated. "Ehm... I'm not so sure about that."
Something about her tone made Sydney pause. "What do you mean?"
Cynthia slowly turned her phone around, the screen facing Sydney. "Uhm... apparently, he went to the Super Bowl. And, ehm... he looks very close to—"
Sydney's stomach twisted as her gaze landed on the screen.
She didn't even need Cynthia to finish her sentence. The image on the phone said it all. Ethan Jones, looking way too comfortable, way too close to—
"Billie Eilish."