Paper Crowns

London, 2014.
I spend most nights balancing heavy plates, fake smiles, and the constant smell of cigarette smoke drifting in every time the restaurant door opens. It's not glamorous, but it pays the rent - barely.

Then four loud Australian boys walk into my shift one rainy Thursday night.

One of them is impossible to ignore: messy golden brown curls tucked beneath a beanie, rings on his fingers, tired eyes that somehow still sparkle when he laughs. Ashton Irwin is chaotic, charming, and far kinder than someone famous should be.

I tell myself he's just another customer.

But after one spilled drink, one conversation that lasts too long, and one night that changes everything, I start to realise some people walk into your life exactly when they're supposed to.