Four hours later.

Maya was three drinks in and tired of scanning the party deck for Sean. She grabbed her phone, scanned the screen, and zapped the DJ.

“I’m sending 1000 sats. Just to feel something.” She clutched her chest, fell onto Imani.

“You know I love a fat zap.” Imani did an ironic body roll. “Great set. I gotta get back to the door.”

“He’s not coming.”

“He’s coming. Relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“You’ve checked the door six times in ten minutes.”

“Stop.” Maya pushed her away. Imani laughed.

Sean walked in. Eyes swept the room once. Then again, slower.

Maya saw him and froze. Imani clocked it immediately.

“Imani. Please.”

Imani grinned. Walked over. “Welcome to the Nostr After-Party!”

Above the DJ, a screen lit up. A notification: 2100 sats. Then another: 1000 sats. The DJ smiled every time one hit.

“What is that?” Sean pointed to a ‘Tunstr’ sign.

“People are paying the DJ.” Imani darted her eyes to Maya. “From all over the world. While he plays.”

Sean shook his head, smiling. “This is so cool.”

Maya took a breath. Smoothed her dress. Walked up.

“Hey!”

Sean’s voice cracked. “Hey.”

Imani slipped away, still grinning.

Maya waited. Didn’t fill the silence.

Sean cleared his throat. “Thank you for inviting me. I was wasting my night with those guys. Glad I’m ending my trip here.”

“Dinner that bad?” Maya smirked.

“If I never hear the word ‘ordinals’ again…”

“Oof,” Maya laughed. “What about tokens?”

“How are people still pushing tokens? Bitcoin savings account? Here’s our token. Bitcoin life insurance? Token. This one guy pitched a ‘Bitcoin Layer 2’ that was just a more complicated Ethereum.”

“Corporate Bitcoin.” She smiled. Sean forgot what he was saying.

“Is that what that was? I thought it was hell.” Sean ran his fingers through his hair. “Every pitch was a scam. And I think two of them already have term sheets.”

“Gotta love those VCs and their great taste.” She grabbed his arm. “Let’s get you a drink.”

Sean moved closer. Let her lead. His hand covered hers.

Their night was finally beginning.

They moved through the crowd. Past vendor booths showing off new apps. Past an onboarding station where someone was setting up their first npub. Just like Sean and Maya the day before.

The main bar was packed. Music pounding. Sean leaned in close to order.

“WHAT?” The bartender cupped his ear.

“TWO MARGARITAS!” Sean shouted, holding two fingers up.

Maya turned to Sean, shouting. “HOW DID YOU KNOW I DRINK MARGARITAS?”

He said something. She couldn’t hear him.

He leaned closer. Right next to her ear.

He whispered. “You had one earlier at the hotel.” He paused. “You should know I pay attention.”

Every hair on the back of her neck lifted.

When it came, he handed her the drink.

They clinked glasses. Tried to talk. Gave up.

Maya pointed toward the far end of the bar. Near the service door.

He shrugged. Followed.

“Nice crowd.” He scanned the floor, appreciating the eclectic mix of people. “Why does it feel like everyone knows each other?”

“’Cause.” Maya smiled. “We all met at a Nostr booth.” She winked.

He needed to take the moment in.

Bitcoin flying across screens. Neon pulsing below. The desert air was warm and still. It was a perfect night.

Sean was sitting next to the most interesting person he’d ever met. He turned back to Maya.

“How does this work?” he asked. “This party. The Nostr booth. Who’s paying?”

“Community donations,” Maya answered. “People volunteer to spread the good word of Nostr. They try to have one at all the major Bitcoin stuff.”

“No company?” Sean asked.

“There are companies but this is grassroots.” Maya leaned in like she was going to tell him a secret.

Sean leaned in to play along.

Maya whispered “#grownostr.”

Sean grinned and matched her volume. “Why are we whispering?”

Maya bit her bottom lip. Looked at his lips. “Because it’s mind-blowing.” She drew the words out slowly. “And I’m trying to ease you into it.”

His glass stopped halfway to his mouth.

She laughed.

Someone squeezed in next to them to order.

Maya leaned into Sean to make room. She got distracted by his cologne.

“So.” She cleared her throat. “There’s no algorithm on Nostr—”

“Right.”

“So… what could you use to find new stuff?” Maya said slowly, gesturing for Sean to finish her thought.

Sean thought.

Maya waited.

Sean smirked. “Hashtags?”

Maya nodded.

“Oh, man.” He pounded his fist against his heart. “You just made me nostalgic for the early internet.”

“You’re welcome!”

“I haven’t used a hashtag in years. I don’t even use it to search stuff.”

“Wow.” Maya pretended to clutch her pearls. “The algorithm really got you.”

“Damn.” Sean laughed. “You actually may be right.”

Maya waved her arm over the crowd. “Set yourself free. You don’t need it. People can find old ways to connect. We’ve been doing it for generations.”

Sean let her keep going.

“It’s quiet at first when you join. But somehow you can fill up your own feed.” She leaned closer. “I just mute accounts that piss me off. There’s no reason. I’ll never zap them.”

“Is that the goal on Nostr? Get zapped?”

“For me? Hell yeah. To GIVE zaps.” Maya jumped.

Sean raised his eyebrows. “Okay, so you have a good stack.”

“Maybe,” Maya said coyly. “But I just want to find cool shit on the open internet. And give the people who made that cool shit Bitcoin.”

She was talking faster now. Eyes bright. Hands moving.

He was watching her mouth. The way her whole body moved when she got excited. He forced himself to look at her hands instead.

She stopped. Caught him staring. “What?”

He shook his head. Still smiling.

“What?” she asked again. “Is your mind blown?”

“Constantly around you.”

They were close. The music was loud enough to justify it. They didn’t need the excuse.

Maya smiled. Pleased.

Sean let out a big exhale. “I’m about to say something. And I need no judgement.”

Maya gestured him to continue.

He set down his glass. “This was actually my first Bitcoin conference.”

Maya’s head tilted. She mouthed ‘oh.’

“It’s been enlightening.” He turned his glass in his hands. Met her eyes. “Especially thanks to you.”

Maya’s face felt warm.

“And now,” Sean picked back up his drink. “I’m trying to figure out how to go back. Back to normie life. Now that I’ve watched people tip a live DJ Bitcoin.”

“Your FIRST? This is your first Bitcoin thing?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you were hanging out with Dave and the bros.”

“I had literally met him two hours before you saw us.”

“HA!” Maya’s arms shot out and pushed his shoulder.

“I was young! I was naive!” He cried. “Now I know where to find the cool shit.”

Maya smirked. “Let me pull you out of the matrix.”

“And into Nostr?”

“Exactly. Come be yourself.” Maya sipped her drink. “You can’t get banned. But no one has to listen to you either.”

“Oh shit.” Sean laughed. “That’s genius.”

“It is.” Maya almost danced when she said it. “It’s revolutionary.”

Sean smiled. Then scrunched his face. “But what if someone posts something illegal?”

“Media hosts filter it.” Maya smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s not pure anarchy.”

“I had to ask!”

“If you do get banned, you just can’t use THAT app. You can take your posts and followers to another app. You lose nothing.”

Sean thought a bit. “Like moving your IG videos to TikTok?”

“Exactly. They all just pull up. Even the comments on the videos.” Maya smiled. “And the zaps they got. Cause it’s Nostr.”

Sean turned to look at the DJ booth and dance floor. When he turned back, their shoulders touched. Neither moved away. “It’s wild this all already exists.”

“Yeah,” Maya said. “We just need the rest of the world to join us.”

Sean turned and stared at her.

“What?” she laughed.

“Your passion.” He shook his head. “This matters to you.”

“It should matter to everyone.” Maya met his eyes. “If we have to ask for permission to say something on the internet — that’s not free speech.”

She leaned on the bar. “And Nostr actually gives you that. Speech and choice.”

“That’s beautiful,” he said. Looking at her.

“We need somewhere governments can’t control. Where they can’t silence the truth.” She sipped her drink. “Most of the internet is censored right now.”

“Yeah, I actually…” Sean looked down and cleared his throat. “I, I work for the government.”

Maya stopped mid-sip. Set down her glass. “What?”

“The federal government.” He looked down.

She studied him for a moment. Her body shifted. Creating distance. “A fed?” She winced.

He let out a big sigh. “I’ve been telling people I work in ‘consulting’ all weekend.”

“Ashamed?” she said sympathetically.

“Kinda. Surrounded by people building on freedom tech. Are you kidding me? Admitting I work for the government feels like…” He trailed off.

“Like you’re revealing yourself as the enemy?”

“Wow! Harsh.” Sean pretended to pull a dagger out of his heart. “I’m actually one of the good ones.”

“That’s what they all say!” Maya rolled her eyes, smiling.

“I’ve pushed for a lot of changes.” He straightened up. “Done a lot to modernize things too.”

Maya chuckled. “Oh, it must be so bad there.”

“We still have ticketing systems that use paper and people have to scan copies to email for signature clearances.”

Maya kept laughing. “That’s actually depressing.”

“Very. But I found a pretty solid and cheap way to automate it,” Sean bragged. “And we’d build and manage it in house. Not with a team of contractors.”

“That is the right way to do it.” Maya looked at Sean. Tilted her head. “You’re wasted in government.”

“No. I’m good there,” Sean tried to assure her. “I’m really appreciated. I love the mission. The general mission of public service.”

“There are other ways to help the public, without serving the system that oppresses them.” Maya winced again. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine.” Sean held up his hand. “You’re not wrong. I know most Bitcoiners want to burn it all down. That’s just not me.”

“It’s so much worse than you know.” Maya shook her head.

“What is?”

“How much we’ve been lied to. About how things are. Our history.” Maya seemed far away.

He tried to meet her eyes. “That’s true. But that’s every government. Americans can romanticize government too much. They’re all doing this.”

“I… yeah, you’re right.” Maya sighed. “The propaganda works too well. Even I used to believe in it.”

“Trust me, the government has broken my heart many, many times.”

“But yet you stay?”

“I am a patient man.” Sean smiled.

Maya sighed. “I had a feeling you didn’t work with freedom tech.” She stepped back in. Close as before. Closer, maybe. Her arm brushed his. “Neither do I. Most people here don’t.”

“Really?” Sean’s shoulders relaxed. “I can’t imagine you in an office, working on anything but this.”

“Oh, so you’re imagining me?”

Sean almost choked on his drink.

“I work remote,” she clarified, grinning. “At a well-funded startup with no business model. Of course.” She winked.

Sean laughed.

She liked his laugh.

“It’s just a day-job though.” She turned her glass in her hands. “I’ve been working on something else. Just myself.”

“Wait, what?” He leaned in. “You holding out on me?”

She almost blushed. “So, okay. I hate ads. Right?”

Sean nodded.

“I mean, I zone out whenever I see one. Out of protest. But it’s hard. They’re everywhere. Right?”

“Yeah,” Sean chuckled. “I actually saw Uber has ads now. They play after you’ve requested a ride.”

Maya laughed. Louder than she wanted. “So you’re paying them to show you ads. They made money off you twice.”

“Damn.” Sean stepped back. “You’re right. That’s fucked up.”

“So fucked up!” Maya grabbed his arm without thinking. “They’re all doing it to us. Every so-called free app.”

“Yeah, they still show the ads even if you have a subscription.”

“They stay greedy.”

She still had his arm. She let go. Smoothed her dress like nothing happened.

“I’m just not sure we can escape it.” He held up his phone and shook it. “We’re too addicted.”

“Yeah. That’s by design.”

A warm gust rolled across the rooftop. Maya tucked her hair behind her ear. The lights below them cycled from blue to pink.

“It’s a great racket,” Sean said. “Get ’em addicted and push as many ads as you want.”

“And how many ads are we even seeing?” Maya pretended to swipe. “One every minute? Five every minute? Does it matter?”

Sean shook his head. “Not like I’m watching them!”

They both laughed.

“So… what does that mean, for someone who has some cool shit. How do they share it with the world?” Maya asked. “Without supporting that evil.”

“Right. It’s kind of like a…”

She cut him off. “Like there’s a cartel? And we’re the product it’s selling?”

“Well damn,” Sean took a moment.

“We’ve been for sale under the lie of free.” Maya let the line sit. She loved it. She’d been saving it.

Sean just stared.

“That’s what I want to fix. The broken attention economy.” She looked at him. “Make it…consensual.”

Now Sean almost blushed.

Maya continued. “You want to promote something. Why pay a platform? Just pay the person watching it.”

“No, but the platform spent money to be a place you’d go to,” Sean countered. “Don’t they deserve to make money?”

Maya grinned.

“What?” Sean couldn’t stop smiling. “Was that a wrong question?”

Maya looked down. Composed herself. Looked up. “No. It was a great question. A little tipsier than I realized.” She paused. “Ask me again later.”

Sean laughed. “Would it sober you up if we roasted Dave a little more?”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Did they talk shit about all this?”

“Oh, aggressively.”

“Ghost town. Yeah.” She waved her hand over the crowd. “Some people have lost the plot, I swear. They don’t want to meet real human beings. They want to connect to an algorithm.”

Sean smirked.

Maya raised her glass. “To Dave.”

Sean clinked. “May he never find the cool parties.”

They drank.

Sean set his glass down. “Wait. So journalists…”

“Yeah?”

“If they get paid directly. Zapped by their readers and that’s their salary…” He was talking faster now. “And their articles would never get censored by any publisher.”

Maya stepped back and watched him. He was pacing now. Gesturing with his drink. Connecting dots she didn’t have to draw. Something had clicked. He already had his own ideas.

“Why wasn’t this the entire conference?” He was almost out of breath. “Nostr could fix so many things. What am I missing?”

Sean felt something on his chest.

He looked down.

Maya’s hand.

He looked at her. She looked as surprised as he was.

They both froze.

His heart pounded under her palm.

“Look,” she said. Didn’t move her hand. “You’re not missing anything.”

She let go. Slowly. Her fingertips dragged against his shirt.

“Right. Yeah.” Maya set her hand on the bar. “We’re just that early. Bitcoin started in 2009. Nostr in 2021. On Bitcoin’s timeline, we wouldn’t even have mining companies yet.”

He was still recovering. “So we’re just college kids mining on our laptops right now?”

“Exactly!”

“Wait,” Sean chuckled. “What am I mining then? Zaps?”

Maya shook her head and cleared her throat, “Attention!”

Sean tilted his head. “Explain.”

“I have a protocol!”

“You have a protocol?”

She grinned.

The crowd shifted towards them. Someone pushed past and Maya stepped back — right into Sean.

His hands found her arms. Steadied her. Neither of them moved.

His thumb caught her strap where it had slipped. Slid it back onto her shoulder.

For a second, they were very close. Closer than they should have been. In a room where everyone seemed to know her.

“Hi,” he said.

She laughed. “Hi.”

“I should probably let go now.”

“Probably.”

He didn’t. Not right away.

Neither did she.

“Can we—” He gestured toward the tables. “I want to hear this.”

“Yeah. Yes.”

The crowd parted around Sean as they walked over. He didn’t notice it. Maya did.

They found a table. The string lights above them cast everything in warm amber. Quieter here. Almost intimate. From here she could see the whole rooftop — the dance floor still pulsing and the crowd thinning around the edges.

Sean flagged down a server. “What’s good?”

The server shrugged and handed over a small late-night menu. “All of it’s fine.”

“Then we’ll take it all! And two waters.”

The server left.

Maya looked at him with a smirk.

Sean shrugged. “You’re drunk. I’m hungry. Seemed efficient.”

“Is this that government efficiency I’ve heard about?”

Sean rolled his eyes.

Food quickly arrived. Five small plates. They both reached for the same spring roll. Their hands touched. Both pulled back.

“You first,” he said.

“No, you—”

“Maya. Eat.”

She grabbed a spring roll. He took a dumpling.

Someone walked over. Dropped a backpack on the empty chair. “Can I leave this here? Be right back.”

Maya nodded. The person left.

“That’s going to happen four more times,” Maya said.

“What is?”

“We have a table. Everyone’s going to leave their stuff here.”

Sean looked around. “We’re the coat check.”

“We’re the coat check.”

They both smiled.

Someone waved at Maya from across the room. She gave a quick nod back but didn’t move.

“So.” Sean leaned back. “Can you feel your face yet?”

Maya laughed. “Getting there.”

“Then pitch me. The whole idea.”

She studied him for a second. His interest. His inebriation. “You sure you want to hear this? It’s… a lot.”

“Try me.”

She smiled. “So I’ve been writing code for a long time. I’ve seen a lot of good app ideas. But most of them never know how they’re gonna make money.”

“Right… start with investor funding.”

“But eventually what do they do? Even if they’re successful?”

Sean grinned. “They put in ads. Like Uber.”

“It’s the only thing that makes money.” Maya leaned in. “But they avoid it as long as they can. Cause everyone hates ads. The founders and the users.”

“So how are you fixing this?” He smiled.

A zap notification flashed across the screen above them. 5000 sats. Someone was having a good night.

She grabbed another spring roll.

“That ad model never had Bitcoin. It definitely didn’t have Nostr.” She set down the spring roll. “But now we have both.”

“There it is!”

She laughed. “So let’s innovate. Right? Make cool shit.”

“Definitely.”

Two people walked up simultaneously. One with a messenger bag, one with a hoodie.

Sean stood up. Took the messenger bag. Put it on the chair. Took the hoodie. Hung it on the back of another chair.

“We’re full service now,” he said, sitting back down.

Maya was grinning.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. You’re just—” She shook her head. “Good at this.”

“At coat check duty?”

“At keeping up.”

“I’m trying.” He smiled. “So with these,” he paused for dramatic effect, “revolutionary technologies, what can we get?”

“Something better. Cooler. Sexier.” Maya twirled her hair with her fingers. “An app that pays you to watch ads.”

“With Nostr?” Sean asked. “How can you put ads into something with no algorithm? Wouldn’t people just unfollow it?”

Maya picked up her water. Took a slow sip. Set it down. “They’d have the choice. If they want to watch, they’ll get paid.” She held his gaze. “It’s consensual. Every time.”

Sean definitely blushed that time.

Maya opened her mouth. Closed it. Forgot what she was going to say next.

“You okay?” He smiled.

“Shut up.” She laughed. “Where was I?”

Sean nodded slowly. “There’s a choice?”

“You get prompted each time. ‘Wanna sell 43 seconds of your time for 500 sats? 50 cents.’ Your choice, every time.”

He thought for a second. “And this doesn’t already exist?”

“Kind of. But they all pay you in fake coins or their own token.” Maya waved her hand. “Useless outside their system.”

“But yours uses…”

“Bitcoin!”

“Of course.” He was thinking out loud. “Make it actual currency you can spend. Like you worked and earned real money.”

“Yeah, and what’s more valuable these days than someone’s attention?”

“Maybe just Bitcoin?” Sean joked.

Maya laughed, leaned in, their knees touching. “So…what’s a minute of someone’s full attention worth?”

Sean paused and thought. “Digital ads ARE a billion-dollar industry.”

“Hundreds of billions,” Maya corrected him.

Sean leaned back and crossed his arms. “But not everyone’s attention is worth the same.”

Maya traced her finger along the edge of the table. “That’s why everyone picks their own price. Then an advertiser says UP TO how much they’ll pay.”

“Ooh, so like a bid?”

“Yeah. Match the ad’s bid price, you get paid.”

Sean was nodding.

“And it’ll never listen to your phone to ‘find you better ads’.” She made the air quotes with her hands. “Whatever that means, right? This just needs to find you the best price.”

Two women approached. “Maya, are you coming to—”

Maya shook her head. “Not tonight.”

They exchanged a knowing look and walked away.

Sean noticed. “You’re popular.”

“I’m here all weekend. They’ll survive.” She leaned forward. “Now, where were we?”

“You were sharing your genius with me.” Sean smiled.

Maya smiled back. “Thanks. I mean, that’s the idea. Oh, and if you don’t want to see the ad again, you can block it from future matches.”

“I have more questions.” He straightened up in his seat. “What’s your price?”

“For what?”

“Your attention. Right now. What would I have to pay?”

Maya’s face warmed. “You can’t afford it.”

“Try me.”

Neither of them said anything for a second. They didn’t need to.

She laughed. He kept surprising her.

Then Sean’s eyes lit up. “It’s like the Million Dollar Homepage.”

Maya’s drink stopped halfway to her mouth. “You know about the Million Dollar Homepage?”

“I was very online as a teenager.”

She laughed. “Okay. I see you.”

“It was some kid back in ’05. He sold pixels on a website for a dollar each. Made a million dollars. And people actually paid for those tiny squares of attention.”

She set down her glass. “That’s… actually a really good analogy.”

“Except yours is better. His was static. Yours is dynamic. And instead of keeping the money, you’re giving it to the people who look.”

Maya stared at him. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

“What happens when Meta copies this though? What’s stopping them from paying people right now?”

Maya laughed. “Nothing is. But they won’t.”

“But if they do?”

“Then we win.”

“How is that winning?” Sean didn’t follow.

“Because you can’t steal an idea that’s open source code,” Maya explained. “If Meta did this, it would mean they were using Nostr and Bitcoin.”

“Oh, fair point.”

“Right? It would be historic adoption actually. Validation.”

“So what’s this called? What’s your protocol called?”

Maya took a deep breath. “The Attention Protocol.”

She waited for a reaction. Full eye contact.

“Nice.” Sean grinned. “Good name.”

He leaned forward. She had him.

She grabbed a napkin and started drawing. Boxes, arrows, the flow of sats. He leaned over to watch. His chin almost on her shoulder. She kept drawing.

“The hard part is doing it alone.” She set the napkin down. “I need another dev. Someone who actually gets Nostr.”

He held her gaze. “Well, you’re a good teacher. You could catch anyone up.”

“You’d be surprised. It’s been hard to get my vision across.”

“Have you tried just… building it yourself? Even a rough version?”

“I’ve been trying. With AI.” She started playing with her fingernails. “But it can only get me so far.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like talking to a genius with amnesia. Every conversation starts over. I explain the protocol, it writes something great. Then I need that piece to connect to another piece and it’s like…” She snapped her fingers. “Gone. Start over.”

“So it can build the parts but not the whole thing.”

“Not yet. And this isn’t a simple app. It’s a protocol, a relay, a matching engine, a client — they all have to talk to each other. I’m spending more time re-explaining than building.”

Sean nodded. “Wow. Yeah. I mean, me too. I keep expecting AI to just… know. Like, we talked about this yesterday. Why are you asking me again?”

Maya laughed. “Exactly! Like Groundhog Day.”

“Like having a coworker who’ll do anything you ask. Like, anything. Works stupid fast. But every morning they walk in like they’ve never met you.”

Maya almost spit out her drink.

“Every. Single. Time. ‘Hi, nice to meet you! What are we working on?’”

They laughed together. Hard. The kind where you have to look away and then look back and it starts again. Sean wiped his eyes. Maya pressed her forehead against the table for a second.

The laughter faded. They were just looking at each other. The string lights swaying above them. Neither rushed to fill it.

“So I started making these context documents,” Sean said, catching his breath. “Everything the AI needs to know — the whole picture, written down. Upload it every time.”

Maya nodded.

“Like onboarding a new employee. Who’s incredibly fast, does anything I ask, but has no memory.”

Maya tilted her head. “That’s… actually brilliant.”

“It works.”

“Why hadn’t I thought of this?” Her mind was already racing. “This could help.”

“You’re welcome.” Sean was pleased with himself.

Maya was already somewhere else. “The Attention Protocol would be a Bitcoin faucet for Nostr. That just keeps paying people to watch ads…”

Sean nodded slowly. “Depending on what you make, yeah. You could tip that out to a lot of creators.”

“Just zap it out. To a podcast. A comedian. A new artist. Even an old one. Listen to a song you love and tip it cause it still hits.”

“Damn, zaps are so cool.” Sean shook his head, smiling. His knee pressed against hers under the table. She pressed back.

“What would we make if money chased love instead of rage?” Maya’s eyes were sparkling. “Instead of rage bait.”

“No one else is trying to do this? Ads on Nostr?”

“Not like this. I can’t even get a dev to work with me on it. Ads are why they left legacy social for Nostr.”

“That just means you’re early.”

“Too early to find anyone to help me.”

The rooftop had emptied around them. The DJ was packing up. It was just them. Table. Half-eaten spring rolls. The city glowing below.

“You will,” he said. “It’s a great idea.”

She stared at him. Most people checked out after twenty minutes of technical talk. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And you better build this. ‘Cause I’m sick of not getting paid when I watch ads.”

She laughed. “How long have we been sitting here?”

Sean checked his phone. “Three hours.”

“Three—” Maya looked around. The crowd had thinned. The coat check pile on their table had disappeared, people reclaiming their things. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Me neither.”

She smiled.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” But she was still smiling. “Just… this was nice.”

The music shifted. Something slower.

“Want to walk?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

He followed her toward the balcony, his hand settling on the small of her back. Light. Barely there. She didn’t move away from it.

She led him to the balcony edge. Away from the speakers. Away from the vendor booths and education talks. Away from everyone.

The desert air hit her skin. Warm, even at night. She could still feel where his hands had been on her arms.

Fremont Street stretched out below them. The famous LED canopy. People everywhere.

“This is better,” he said.

She leaned against the railing. Took a deep breath. Tried to steady herself.

“Much better.”

All that talking and somehow the quiet was better than any of it.

She could feel him next to her without looking. The heat of him. The space between them that kept getting smaller.

Sean glanced at his screen again. The flight reminder stared back at him.

Maya noticed. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just—” He put the phone away. “I’m here.”

She was quiet. Looking out at the lights.

If he kissed her now, he wouldn’t stop. And he’d miss that flight.

He moved closer anyway.

“Maya—”

She turned to face him. Her breath caught.

They were so close now. She could see his pulse in his neck. The way his jaw tightened. His eyes locked on hers. Not looking away.

She was aware of every inch between them.

The nightclub noise faded. It was just them.

His hand left the railing.

She leaned in. Let herself. She hadn’t done that in a long time.

Permission.

His hand found her waist. The fabric of her dress thin under his palm. She felt it in her throat.

She didn’t pull away.

He pulled her closer. Her hand found his chest. His heart was pounding.

She could feel his breath on her lips. One inch. Maybe less.

She wanted to close her eyes but she couldn’t stop looking at him. At his mouth. At the way he was looking at hers.

The desert air had gone still. Like even Vegas was holding its breath.

And then his phone alarm screamed in his pocket.

Loud. Insistent.

They both froze.

Sean looked defeated.

Maya’s hand was still on his chest. She left it there for a breath. Then let go.

“Need to get that?”

“It’s my flight.” He pulled out his phone. Silenced it. “I set an alarm. To remind me to leave.”

“Then you probably should.” She made an exaggerated frown.

“I don’t want to.” Sean stared at the screen like it had betrayed him.

“I know.” She smiled. “But you set an alarm for a reason.”

He had. Three days ago. Before he met her. When missing a flight was the worst thing that could happen.

The music stopped. House lights came up. Around them, people started gathering their things. Their eyes still locked. Neither willing to be the one to look away.

“I should help Imani.” She took a step back and looked away. “And you need to go. Please. I don’t want to be the reason you’re stranded.”

They stood there. Neither moving.

“DM me,” she said. “You have my npub! We should talk more. About the protocol.”

“About the protocol.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll DM you.”

He didn’t move.

“Go.” She smiled. Softer now.

He went.

She told herself she wouldn’t check if he looked back.

He did. Twice.

She waved. Small. Involuntary.

Then he was gone.