𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦𝘴

Stevie Rhodes was supposed to be the golden girl. The good girl.

At nineteen, she leaves her small Tennessee town, trading Sunday service and porch swing summers for the shimmering promise of Los Angeles. While her friends settle into sleepy college towns, she's chasing something bigger-a pop career, a life drenched in stardust. But LA isn't what she dreamed. It's colder, crueler. No one cares about her talent, her perfect smile, her sweet Southern charm. The record labels don't call back. The industry doesn't open its arms. Soon, her savings run dry.

Stevie is polite, honest, too nice for her own good. And this was definitely on the list of things she swore she'd never do.

But LA doesn't care about promises.

By day, she's Stevie-the girl in sundresses and ballet flats, knocking on doors that refuse to open. By night, she's Juno-a stranger in pretty lace and platform heels, dancing under the sickly pink lights of The Pink Pony Club. It's just temporary, just money to survive. She doesn't mind the stage-she loves to perform, loves the attention. It's good practice for when she makes it big. But the men? They are dirty, drunk and desperate. And every night, when she counts her cash in the dim glow of her apartment, she feels the weight of her choices pressing down.

Then, he walks in.

Harry Styles-yes, that Harry Styles. Stevie had posters of him on her wall, sang his songs into her hairbrush as a kid. He wasn't supposed to be the kind of man who came to places like this. But then again, she wasn't supposed to be the kind of girl who worked in places like this. She's ashamed. She's intrigued. And as much as she wants to hate him for being just another man in the audience, she can't. Because he sees something in her-something more than a dancer, more than a girl from nowhere chasing an impossible dream.

But Stevie didn't come to LA to fall. Not for fame. Not for money. And definitely not for Harry Styles.

So why does it feel like she's already slipping?