The air in Vika’s bedroom hung heavy with the scent of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer, a fitting haze for the cluttered chaos of her little sanctuary. Posters of El Capitxn plastered every inch of the peeling wallpaper, his smoldering dark eyes and tousled black hair staring down at her from every angle. The South Korean music producer, all of 35, had a bad-boy edge that could melt steel—tattoos peeking from under rolled-up sleeves, a smirk that screamed trouble, and a voice in his tracks that could make a saint sin. Vika, sprawled on her unmade bed in a ratty tank top and ripped shorts, scrolled through his latest Instagram post for the seventeenth time that day, her chipped black nails tapping restlessly on her phone screen.
“Goddamn, look at you,” she muttered to the screen, zooming in on a photo of him mid-performance, sweat glistening on his neck. “You could ruin my life, and I’d thank you for it.” She took a long drag of her cigarette, the ember glowing as she exhaled a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. Her other hand reached for a half-empty beer can on the nightstand, the aluminum warm from sitting there too long. She didn’t care. It was 2 p.m. on a Tuesday, and she had no plans to move unless the house caught fire.
The door to her room burst open with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and Dasha stormed in, all sharp angles and no patience. Her leather jacket was zipped halfway, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun, and her piercing green eyes zeroed in on Vika like a hawk spotting prey. “Are you *kidding* me, Vika? Still drooling over your imaginary boyfriend? It’s pathetic. Get up, you lazy cow.”
Vika didn’t even flinch, her gaze still glued to her phone. “Screw off, Dasha. I’m busy.”
“Busy fantasizing about a dude who doesn’t even know you exist?” Dasha snatched the cigarette from Vika’s fingers and took a drag herself before stubbing it out in an overflowing ashtray. “You’re 19, not 12. Stop acting like a lovesick puppy and do something with your life.”
Vika finally looked up, her hazel eyes narrowing as she propped herself on her elbows. “Oh, please, like you’ve never obsessed over someone. What was that guy’s name last month? The bartender with the man-bun? You practically begged him to spit in your drink.”
Dasha smirked, crossing her arms. “Difference is, I got his number. And his spit, if we’re being real. Meanwhile, you’re here jerking off to pixelated abs. Big difference, babe.”
“Whatever,” Vika snapped, rolling her eyes as she sat up, her messy blonde hair falling into her face. “El Capitxn isn’t just some random guy. He’s a god. A musical genius. A sex icon. You wouldn’t get it. You’ve got the taste of a brick wall.”
Dasha laughed, sharp and biting, as she kicked a stray beer can across the room. “A sex icon who’s probably got a harem of groupies hotter than you. No offense, but you’re not exactly K-pop girlfriend material, chain-smoking in your childhood bedroom. What’s your big plan, huh? Gonna teleport to Seoul and seduce him with your… what, your winning personality?”
Vika grinned, unfazed, and leaned forward, her tone dripping with defiance. “Maybe I will. Bet I could charm the pants off him faster than any of those plastic fangirls. I’ve got raw energy, Dasha. Unfiltered. Men like that don’t want polished—they want wild.”
“Wild?” Dasha snorted, plopping down on the edge of the bed and stealing Vika’s beer for a sip. “You’re about as wild as a housecat with a nicotine addiction. If you’re so confident, why don’t you do something about it? Slide into his DMs. Tell him you’re ready to be his Russian ride-or-die. See if he bites.”
Vika froze, her smirk faltering for half a second before she recovered with a scoff. “Yeah, right. Like he’d even see it. He’s got, what, three million followers? My message would drown in a sea of thirsty bitches.”
Dasha raised an eyebrow, her grin wicked. “So? Be the loudest bitch in the sea. Make him notice. Or are you all talk, Vika? Thought you were the queen of ‘raw energy.’ Prove it.”
The challenge hung in the air like the smoke still lingering from Vika’s last drag. She stared at Dasha, her jaw tightening, then grabbed her phone with a dramatic huff. “Fine. Watch me. I’ll write something so ballsy he’ll have no choice but to respond. Then you’ll eat your words, you smug little gremlin.”
Dasha leaned back on her hands, clearly delighted. “Oh, I’m watching. Lay it on thick, tiger. Let’s see this raw energy in action.”
Vika’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her heart thumping harder than she’d admit. She took a swig of beer for courage, the warm, flat liquid doing little to calm her nerves, then started typing. Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk as the words flowed. “Hey, El Capitxn, it’s Vika from Russia. I’ve been listening to your tracks on repeat, and I’m pretty sure they’ve ruined me for any other man. How about I fly to Seoul and show you how we do obsession over here? No strings, just heat. Hit me back if you’re game.”
She read it aloud to Dasha, her voice brimming with bravado. “How’s that for unfiltered?”
Dasha cackled, clapping slowly. “Damn, girl, you’ve got guts. That’s borderline unhinged. He’ll either block you or propose. No in-between.”
Vika’s finger lingered over the ‘send’ button, a flicker of doubt creeping in. “What if he thinks I’m a psycho?”
“Then you are one,” Dasha shot back, her tone merciless. “Own it. Hit send, or I’m doing it for you. Don’t punk out now, Vika. I’ll never let you live it down.”
With a growl of frustration—and a buzz of adrenaline—Vika slammed her thumb down on the button. The message whooshed away into the digital void, and she immediately tossed her phone onto the bed like it was on fire. “There. Done. Happy now, you pushy bitch?”
Dasha grinned, all teeth. “Ecstatic. Now we wait. If he replies, I’m taking credit for your entire love story. If he doesn’t, I’m never letting you forget this. Either way, I win.”
Vika flipped her off, but her eyes kept darting to the phone, her bravado masking the nervous flutter in her chest. What the hell had she just done? She lit another cigarette to distract herself, the smoke curling around her like a shield. But deep down, beneath the snark and the swagger, a tiny, reckless part of her hoped he’d see it. Hoped he’d bite. Because if El Capitxn ever did notice her, Vika knew she’d burn the whole damn world down to keep his attention.
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