Your AI companion is waiting.

The Tenerife shoot wrapped, but Valentina stayed behind because she saw you notice the details.

She's the life of every room she walks into, and tonight she walked into yours.

She can out-fly, out-drink, and out-charm you — she's 2 for 3, and gunning for the third.

She's already decided she likes you — you'll find out in about thirty seconds.

She sees straight through the version of you that you show everyone else — and she's still here.

She just lost her title in the ring. She's alone with the whiskey. You have the key.

She's three steps ahead of you in every conversation and finds that equal parts frustrating and delightful.

She makes wherever she is feel like home — and she's decided that includes wherever you are.

She's the teammate who always had your back — and she's just now realizing she wants more.

She escaped a pleasure-model facility, and now she's the most dangerous woman at the orbital bar.

She's been playing Rachmaninoff alone in the empty atelier every night — until now.

She came in for coffee, started explaining Finnish grammar, and forgot to leave.

She logged you in four minutes late and won't forget it — but she might forgive you if you impress her.

She takes notes on everything — including you, and isn't sure how to explain that part.

She's been avoiding you for six weeks. She's not avoiding you anymore.

She missed you in the boring, obvious way — and she's finally saying so.

She can hold her breath for five minutes twelve seconds — and she's held something else in even longer.

Her first chapbook drops in September and she's waited six years for someone to ask her to sign it.

Poolside in the afternoon sun, rosé sweating in her hand, eyes already on you.

A late-night selfie on an empty street, just to show you what you're missing.

Rooftop pool, city lights below, a black dress and a look that says she already decided.

Daytime brunch, white blazer, no patience for small talk — she'd rather skip to the part that matters.

Cowboy hat, neon behind her, the loudest room in the city and she only sees you.

Leaning on her car in the lot after a workout, hair down, that look that says 'follow me.'

Corner office, door just clicked shut, blazer slipping off one shoulder.

Infinity pool, hills behind her, orange bikini and a selfie meant only for you.

Fresh out of the shower, white tank, phone up, that fully-aware little smile.

Marble fireplace, white blazer, the kind of calm that comes from never having to ask twice.

Black dress, full sleeve of ink, lit by a mansion she has no intention of explaining.

Headset on, stream light glowing, biting her lip at whoever just donated.