𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬

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                 Date: February 27th, 2018        Place: Paris, France –  YSL Fall/Winter 2018 Fashion Show (Paris Fashion Week) 

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Gloria's Hairstyle, Makeup, Outfit, & Nails

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It was a crisp night in Paris. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, casting a golden glow over the Seine, but all eyes were on the runway set up at the foot of the Trocadéro gardens.Inside the darkened, chic venue — the Saint Laurent logo shone bright above a runway dusted with moody lighting and city grit.

Glo sat front row, legs crossed, skin glistening under the ambient lights. Her dress was everything — a rich chocolate brown silk piece with a deep off-the-shoulder neckline, nipped at the waist, and flowing just past her knees. Paired with high, strappy gold YSL heels and a curled, bouncy quick weave in a pinned-up style, she looked like a modern-day Diana Ross meets Naomi Osaka energy. Regal, athletic, and that girl.

Beside her? None other than Anna Wintour, in her signature bob, oversized black sunnies (even indoors), and a floral Prada coat.

"Gloria, correct?" Anna said coolly, turning slightly toward her.

Glo smiled and gave a small nod. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're the tennis champion everyone's talking about... and now you're making fashion headlines, too."

Glo's eyes widened slightly, honored but playing it cool. "That's crazy coming from you."

Anna gave a slight smile — rare. "I love the simplicity of your look. It's refined. The silhouette is very Paris, very grown. You have a real eye — not everyone knows how to let a look breathe."

"Thank you," Glo said, sitting a little taller. "My stylist and I like to keep it classic, you know? Just enough to feel expensive, but still me."

Anna nodded once, then leaned in just a tad. "You wear it well. Keep your sense of self. Don't let the industry mold you into anything less."

They shared a knowing look — woman to woman, icon to rising star.

As the lights dimmed and the show began, photographers subtly snapped her from the side, catching Glo's poised silhouette, long lashes, and that quiet confidence that was quickly becoming her signature.

Across the runway, Shawn watched from a couple rows back — tucked in with his label crew — and couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips.

Because even in a sea of models, glitter, and fame... Glo was still the most magnetic thing in the room.

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The Yves Saint Laurent show came to a stunning close with models taking their final walk to thunderous applause. Spotlights danced across the glimmering runway as the elite of the fashion world stood, air-kissed, and began to mingle under the cool Parisian night sky.

Gloria—Glo—stood near the step-and-repeat, drink in hand (a non-alcoholic sparkling pear spritz, of course), chatting with a couple of up-and-coming designers when she was approached by a well-known fashion journalist from Vogue Runway.

"Gloria Miller?" the woman asked with a bright smile and a mic already in hand. "Mind if I steal you for a quick moment?"

Glo blinked, smiled, and adjusted her dress slightly. "Yeah, for sure."

The cameras rolled.

INTERVIEW – VOGUE RUNWAY

Interviewer: "We're here live at the YSL Fall/Winter 2018 show during Paris Fashion Week, and standing next to me is not only Olympic gold medalist and tennis sensation Gloria Miller — but also a rising fashion darling. Gloria, welcome!"

Glo (smiling): "Thank you! This is... insane, honestly. But beautiful."

Interviewer: "You've had an unbelievable last two years — gold medal, record-breaking sneaker deal, Barbie doll, Vogue features — and now front row at Saint Laurent, next to Anna Wintour. How are you processing all this?"

Glo: (laughs) "Uh, barely. I mean, I still feel like the same girl from Florida who wears Nike socks with slides. But I also love this world. I've always loved fashion—my mom had stacks of Essence and Elle magazines in our house, and I used to cut out outfits and tape them to my walls."

Interviewer: "We heard Anna complimented your dress choice tonight. That's huge."

Glo (grinning): "Yeah, I'm still recovering from that. Like... I might frame that moment in my brain forever."

Interviewer: "We love your look — this brown silk dress with the gold heels is stunning. Who styled you tonight?"

Glo: "My stylist Jodie helped me pull it, but I saw it and knew. It felt grown but still... like me. Like it could go from Paris to Publix."

Interviewer: (laughs) "I love that. You also have a calm energy — so poised for someone who's only 18. What's next for you, Gloria?"

Glo: (pauses thoughtfully) "Honestly? I'm moving to California, training for the Open, and... I've been writing a little. Not just music, but just journaling more, getting into who I am off the court. So we'll see."

Interviewer: "You're a young icon in the making. Enjoy Paris, and congratulations again."

Glo: "Thank you. This means a lot."

The camera panned out as the interviewer thanked her again. And just as she stepped away, Shawn caught her eye from across the room — nodding with a little smile, like he saw her, really saw her.

And Glo?She gave a slight nod back...As the night wrapped, and Paris buzzed, she felt something big was blooming — not just in her career, but inside her.

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It was March 2018 when Gloria officially made the leap—moving from Florida to the golden glow of California. She had just turned 18, and now, she was the proud owner of her own home.

With the Pacific sun pouring through the palms and the Hollywood Hills in the background, the moving trucks rolled through the gated entrance of her new neighborhood. Her house sat at the top of a quiet, palm-lined street, modern and striking with walls of shimmering glass that opened up to views that looked straight out of a dream.

Her parents had flown in to help, along with Tori, who was hyped up on espresso and dragging boxes in her Nike Dunks like she was on a mission.

"Girl, this house is insane," Tori shouted, wide-eyed as she stepped inside the entryway, where light spilled across the creamy floors and minimalist design. "You got firepits plural! Who needs multiple firepits?!"

Glo laughed, brushing her curls out of her face, her long sleeves rolled up. "Apparently, I do now."

The home was everything she had dreamed of and more — 5 bedrooms, 3.5 bathrooms, a theater room with a curved screen and plush velvet seating, and the heart of the house: that breathtaking backyard.

Walls of glass opened up onto a resort-style oasis. A turquoise pool sparkled under the sun, flanked by a rock waterfall feature, a bubbling spa, and shaded lounges tucked near sleek firepits. There was a full outdoor kitchen with a grill the size of a spaceship, and in the distance, the San Gabriel Mountains stretched across the horizon like a painted backdrop.

Her dad, Mr. Miller, stood back on the patio with his hands on his hips, looking impressed but still trying to act chill."Well... I gotta say," he muttered, "this ain't bad."

Her mom was inside wiping down the already-pristine kitchen counters, saying something about how she better host a real dinner party at least once a year in a house like this.

And Gloria? She was still taking it all in. She had paid for this. All of it. $2,747,000 in her name. She didn't even blink when the paperwork came through. It was hers.

"Glo," Tori said, walking up behind her with a juice box, "you're really out here grown as hell."

Gloria nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the fire feature flickering in the distance."I know... It's wild."

By the end of the day, the last box was unpacked. Her trophies sat neatly in a glass case in her home office. A pair of her first tennis shoes, signed, were mounted near the entrance. And her room? White sheets, soft lighting, cozy throws, and floor-to-ceiling windows that made her feel like she was living in the sky.

As night fell, the pool lights shimmered and the firepit flickered beside the spa. Glo sat out back wrapped in a hoodie, feet dipped in the water, phone buzzing beside her.

A text lit up her screen:Shawn 🕊️: So... when can I come see this legendary house of yours?

She smiled, biting her lip. The mountain view glowed behind her like a scene in a movie.

She texted back:Glo: Whenever you want, Canada. I got a firepit with your name on it. 🔥

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Tori was practically moved in by April.

It started with one overnight bag. Then a drawer. Then her favorite blanket, a few pairs of Jordans, and suddenly she had a rotating toothbrush in Gloria's marble bathroom like it was her own. Glo didn't mind at all. The house was huge and quiet sometimes, and Tori's energy lit it up like summer.

One Friday night, after a day of errands and lunch at Erewhon ("bougie Whole Foods," as Tori called it), the girls settled into one of their classic sleepovers. Gloria had picked up sushi, Tori had brought too many snacks, and Netflix was loaded on the projector in the theater room. They were camped out in sweats, blankets tangled around them, chopsticks in hand, and a massive tub of cookie dough they swore they'd only eat "a spoonful" of.

Midway through the movie, Tori sat up like she just had a vision."Bro. We gotta do a TikTok tonight."

Glo groaned. "We always say that and end up looking dumb."

"Yeah but like, cute dumb," Tori grinned. "Come on, let's do the 'I'm looking for a man in finance' one. You know it's trending."

Gloria rolled her eyes but smiled, grabbing her edge brush and fixing her quick weave in the mirror. "Only if we can do that corny 'Side Eye' duet after."

Ten minutes later, their ring light was set up in the living room. The plush throw rugs had become makeshift backdrops. Music blared from the Bluetooth speaker as they rehearsed a few eight-counts. Tori took the lead—she always did—and Gloria matched her with her own signature flair. They danced in fuzzy socks and oversized sweatshirts, accidentally smacking each other at least twice.

"No wait—run it back, I blinked weird," Glo laughed, reviewing the video. "I looked like a confused Sim."

They filmed another one with sunglasses on, Tori lip-syncing with full drama while Gloria cracked up mid-scene. The drafts were endless: them dancing, them arguing about camera angles, them doing little skits. It wasn't about views or virality—it was just them. Silly, raw, and real.

Afterward, they laid on the giant L-shaped couch with face masks on, Tori scrolling through TikTok while Gloria texted her mom back. At some point they both fell asleep mid-conversation, legs tangled under the same knit throw, some old-school Destiny's Child playing faintly in the background.

In the morning, Gloria woke up to the smell of toaster waffles and Tori doing a terrible British accent in the kitchen.

"This posh little princess needs syrup!" she called, laughing. "Wake up, Queen Glo!"

Glo threw a pillow at her, still grinning. "You have to stop watching Love Island."

These moments? They weren't flashy. There were no award shows or fashion weeks involved. But they were perfect. Gloria's life might've been full of pressure, of goals and cameras and eyes on her every move—but in that house, with Tori dancing barefoot in the kitchen and their TikToks saved in drafts, it felt easy. Like being a teenager again.

Just two best friends, a lot of snacks, and a million memories waiting to happen.

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Gloria's life in California was a mix of quiet luxury and hard-earned hustle.

By day, she was soaking in the dreamy, golden magic of LA—sipping matcha in West Hollywood cafés, getting invited to lowkey but exclusive rooftop brunches, shopping on Melrose with Tori, and exploring the little beach towns up the coast. She'd drive her sleek white Tesla through the hills with the sunroof open, music loud, hair blowing, sunglasses on, vibing like she was in a Sofia Coppola film.

But by 5 a.m., she was locked in.

Training for the US Open wasn't something she took lightly. She had a full team—her longtime coach, a new strength trainer, a nutritionist who had her on a strict high-protein regimen, and even a sports psychologist who met with her twice a week. Every morning, she was on the court before the sun peeked over the palm trees, her breath fogging up in the early chill.

Her sessions were no joke. Serve drills until her shoulder burned. Footwork exercises so intense she could feel it in her calves for days. Mental conditioning exercises in between, her coach yelling, "Visualize the pressure. Visualize the crowd. Now tune it out."

And Gloria... she was hungry. She wanted it.

After her Olympic win and breakout years, there were whispers: "Was it a fluke?" "Can she repeat it?" "Does she still have that fire?"She was going to show them she never lost it.

In the afternoons, she'd hit the gym for strength training, then recover in her home pool or with a massage in her built-in wellness room. She kept her phone on "Do Not Disturb" a lot. Not because she didn't love her people—but because she was zoned in. This year, the US Open was personal. Not just for her career, but for her growth. Her womanhood. Her legacy.

But Gloria still carved out time for balance. Evenings were for detox baths, journaling, watching anime with Tori, or even FaceTiming her parents. Sometimes, she'd sit by her firepit with a blanket, listening to Lauryn Hill and watching the mountains turn lavender at dusk.

She went to a couple of Lakers games. Modeled in a campaign for a Black-owned luxury streetwear brand. Was invited to a roundtable with Serena Williams and Venus, which left her deeply inspired. And she even started writing—poetry, short stories, little vignettes of her life—stuff she didn't show anyone yet.

California wasn't just a move—it was a rebirth.She was still the girl from Florida, still the Olympic champion, still Glo from the court.But now, she was also a young woman shaping her own path.

And in the background of it all, the US Open loomed like a quiet drumbeat.She could feel it pulsing in her chest with every rep, every swing, every sprint.She was coming.And the world wasn't ready.

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On March 22, 2018, Shawn Mendes dropped "In My Blood," the powerful lead single from his upcoming third studio album—a raw, emotional anthem that took the world by storm. The very next day, on March 23, he followed it up with something softer, more sensual—"Lost in Japan." Their song.

The moment "Lost in Japan" hit streaming platforms, Gloria knew what it was. From the first dreamy synth to the lyrics about flying across time zones to see someone you can't get off your mind—it was them, captured in melody.The Tokyo trip.The stolen glances.The karaoke.The tension.That kiss.

Though her name was never attached to the track publicly, it was one of the first songs she'd ever co-written, and the process had been magical. Sitting beside Shawn on the plush carpet of his hotel suite, watching Sixteen Candles flicker in the background while they tossed around lyrics, melodies, harmonies—it felt like one of those nights you never forget. One that becomes a core memory.

Every time she heard it, whether it was on the radio while driving down the PCH or playing overhead at some fancy Beverly Hills boutique, Gloria couldn't help but smile. Sometimes she'd blush a little, laughing softly to herself. Other times she'd just close her eyes and soak it in. That song reminded her of how young and alive they'd felt—how much promise the world held in those moments.

It was never about fame or clout. It was just theirs.

And as "Lost in Japan" climbed charts around the globe, becoming a fan favorite and a critical darling, Gloria didn't say a word. She let the world enjoy it the way she did—without needing to know the story behind it. But deep down, she always knew the truth:

That song was a timestamp of a moment she would never forget.A soft chapter tucked between her rise to greatness and the lessons of young love.And every time she heard it...

She smiled.

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It was late April 2018, and Shawn Mendes was in the middle of promo for his new album. He'd been hopping from radio station to radio station, late-night show to morning news, all with that humble smile and tousled curls that made fans swoon. On this particular day, he was sitting down with Zane Lowe for Apple Music's Beats 1—a more intimate, artist-focused conversation.

Zane leaned forward, curious, flipping through his notes."Let's talk about 'Lost in Japan.' That track, man... it's smooth, it's different—it's got a real vibe to it. Who did you write that with? What inspired it?"

Shawn smiled, and for a second, he looked down like he was thinking about how to answer. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed lightly as he considered his words.

"Yeah... that one's really special," he said, eyes twinkling just a little. "I actually wrote it in a hotel room while I was overseas. I was... with someone who's really important to me, and we were kind of just messing around—writing ideas, watching old movies, ordering room service," he chuckled softly. "It wasn't even supposed to be a song at first. Just us vibing, playing with melodies."

Zane nodded knowingly. "So, mystery muse?"

Shawn laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something like that. I won't say who, out of respect—it's personal, and not everything needs to be public, you know? But that night... I just had this feeling. Like, what if I could hop on a flight and be in the same time zone? That yearning, that closeness... it all spilled out into the song."

He paused, and then added thoughtfully, "She actually helped me write some of the lyrics. And it's the first time someone outside my usual collaborators contributed like that. It made the whole process feel really intimate and alive. I'll never forget it."

Zane smiled, sensing how meaningful it was."Well, whoever she is, shout out to her—because that track is fire."

Shawn grinned, a little bashful."Yeah... she knows."

And just like that, the conversation moved on. But fans everywhere began wondering—who was she? Who had inspired that kind of passion and helped him pen one of his most beloved songs?

Gloria knew. And when she watched the clip later that night while lying on her couch in her glass-walled California home, she just smiled... and went back to practicing her serves.

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It was a mellow summer evening in Los Angeles, the kind where the sunset stained the sky with warm pinks and oranges, and traffic shimmered in the distance like fireflies. Gloria had just wrapped up her practice session and was lounging at home when her phone buzzed.

Shawn: "Hey, dinner at Nobu tonight? 🍣 7:30?"

She smiled, already sliding her sandals on.Gloria: "Say less. But I'm coming early. Studio invite still open?"

Shawn: "Always."

By 6:00 PM, Gloria stepped into the low-lit studio tucked inside a cozy artsy building in West Hollywood. The room smelled faintly of lavender oil and fresh wood. Shawn was there—headphones off, legs up on the mixing desk, strumming an acoustic guitar absentmindedly.

"Yo, superstar," she teased, walking in with a little strut.

He looked up, instantly grinning. "You made it."

Gloria dropped onto the plush studio couch, kicking her feet up. "So... what are you stuck on?"

He sighed and turned the guitar in his hands. "It's this one track. It's personal, like... really personal. I've been trying to say something but can't quite find the right words."

Gloria tilted her head. "Wanna tell me what it's about?"

He hesitated. "Us."

That made her sit up straighter, her interest instantly piqued. He handed her his notepad—it had scattered phrases, a few half-formed verses, and one title underlined twice: "Like To Be You."

As she read through it, her eyes softened. She saw herself in every line. Every pause. Every quiet "I'm sorry" that had passed between them during their ups and downs.

"Let me help," she said gently.

They sat close, knees touching, the soft hum of the studio monitors surrounding them. Slowly, they started to build the song piece by piece. She rewrote a line here, added a phrase there. The whole thing flowed between them like a heartbeat.

Then Shawn paused, looked up, and said, "Sing the demo with me."

Gloria blinked. "For real?"

He nodded, pulling the mic down to her level. "You're part of this. Your voice has to be on it."

She stepped into the booth, nerves dancing in her chest—but the moment the track started and Shawn's voice layered beneath hers, she relaxed. Her soft, soulful tone melted into his, especially on the chorus:

🎶 "I don't know what it's like to be you... but I'm dying to..." 🎶

She nailed it. And when the last note faded out, the studio was silent. Shawn stood there just watching her behind the glass—heart in his throat.

She stepped out of the booth and whispered, "That was... intense."

He stepped toward her, brushing a hand against her arm. "It was perfect."

The silence lingered, electric and golden. Then, without thinking, without overanalyzing—it just happened.

He leaned in, and she let him.

Their lips met in the quiet of the studio, warm and slow, the song still echoing in the background. A kiss that said all the things they didn't write in the lyrics.

In that moment, they weren't pop star and tennis legend. They were just two people trying to understand each other—one melody at a time.

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Later that night, after the warmth of the studio kiss still lingered like a secret between them, they made their way to Nobu in Malibu. The restaurant was glowing with soft ambient lights and the steady sound of waves crashing nearby. Glo wore a long caramel trench coat over her fitted tan midi dress, hair still in the cute curled quick weave from earlier that week. Shawn had thrown on a black tee, a denim jacket, and sneakers—classic Shawn, casual but clean.

Their table was tucked near the back, semi-private with a view of the ocean. As soon as they sat, Glo leaned back in the plush seat, grinning. "Okay, that kiss earlier was... something."

Shawn smiled wide. "Something good?"

"Something dangerous," she replied with a little wink.

They both laughed as the server brought out plates of edamame, yellowtail sashimi, and spicy tuna crispy rice. Gloria took a bite, eyes going wide. "Whew, this is spicy-spicy!"

"Spicy-spicy?" Shawn teased. "That's the official rating now?"

"You know it!" she said, fanning her mouth. "Okay, Mr. Mendes, tell me something I don't know."

Shawn leaned forward, playful glint in his eyes. "Você tem um sorriso que faz meu coração parar."

Gloria paused mid-bite, blinking. "Wait—what? What did you just say?"

He grinned. "Portuguese. Bet you weren't ready for that."

"Shawn! What did you say?" she said, laughing but definitely curious.

"I said..." he leaned in closer, his voice low and smooth, "you have a smile that makes my heart stop."

Gloria's face flushed with surprise and warmth. "Why does that sound even better in Portuguese?"

"Because it is," he chuckled.

She smirked, sipping her cucumber water. "Okay then, teach me something. Something cute. But not corny."

Shawn thought for a second, then said, "Alright—minha linda. It means 'my beautiful.'"

Gloria raised a brow, eyes twinkling. "So if I start calling you meu lindo, that's okay?"

He laughed, nodding. "It's more than okay."

They spent the rest of dinner sharing bites, joking around, and trying to teach each other words. Gloria kept trying to roll her R's and failing dramatically, making Shawn double over in laughter. At one point, she even started fake arguing in her best soap opera accent: "Por qué, Shawn? Por qué?"

"That's Spanish!" he cried between laughs.

"I'm panicked! I don't know what language we speak anymore!" she giggled.

It was one of those nights that felt like magic. No paparazzi. No headlines. Just two young stars in love, stealing a moment away from the world—with sashimi, ocean air, and hearts full of something real.

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The months following the album's release were a whirlwind—full of lights, live shows, whispers, and unspoken glances that lingered in the air between Gloria "Glo" Miller and Shawn Mendes.

After the official release of his self-titled album on May 25, 2018, critics praised the growth in his songwriting, especially the emotionally honest lyrics and more mature production. Fans latched on hard, but none harder than when they heard "Like to Be You"—a delicate, haunting duet that was unlike anything Shawn had released before. And for the first time... they heard Glo's voice. Smooth. Dreamy. Intimate.

The moment came during his residency on The Late Late Show with James Corden in early June. Each night, he performed a different single—"Nervous," "Lost in Japan," "Perfectly Wrong"—but it was the final night when he said, almost casually, "I have a surprise for you guys... this one's a duet."

And out walked Glo.

Dressed in a cream silk slip dress with her curls swept up, she looked effortlessly elegant and just the right amount of nervous. But when she opened her mouth to sing the opening harmonies, the crowd went silent. James Corden's mouth literally dropped open backstage.

The performance trended on Twitter for days. Clips racked up millions of views overnight. People were shook—not only by the unexpected collab, but by the chemistry that was undeniable onstage. The glances. The little smiles between verses. The way Shawn would look at her when she sang "I won't love you less."

And then came the "Lost in Japan" music video.

When fans hit play, they weren't ready. The video reimagined Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation with Shawn in the role of Bob, quietly wandering Tokyo... until he meets Glo's character, Charlotte. The scenes were nearly frame-for-frame tributes: the hotel bar meeting, the karaoke night, lying side-by-side in bed not touching but aching.

Glo wore a pink wig just like Scarlett Johansson's character. There was a moment where she leaned her head on Shawn's shoulder, softly humming to herself as he played piano in a high-rise suite, the Tokyo skyline behind them. It was tender. Vulnerable. Romantic.

And it blew up.

Fans went wild with speculation. "Are they dating?" "Was this about her the whole time?" "Why haven't they said anything?"

But neither of them addressed it.

Not in interviews.Not on social media.Not even a cryptic caption.

They let the music—and the moments—speak for themselves.

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Gloria hadn't really thought too hard about it at first.

Well—she had, but in that way where you file things into a box labeled "complicated" and push it to the back of your mind because life is moving fast, and it feels easier to ride the wave than question the tide.

She and Shawn had been... them for a while now. Writing music. Having deep late-night conversations. Laughing until they couldn't breathe. Studio hangouts that blurred into sushi dates and those moments that made her heart skip—like when he'd push a strand of her hair behind her ear, or when he'd grab her hand walking through a crowd without even thinking about it.

And yeah... they kissed.

Sometimes it was spontaneous—like after a particularly good take in the studio. Or when they were stargazing on her balcony, soft music playing and neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodnight.

It was never talked about. Just felt.

Until Tori came over one Sunday afternoon, kicking her sneakers off and throwing herself dramatically across Glo's white couch.

"So," she said, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge like she lived there (which she basically did). "What's going on with you and Mister Mendes?"

Glo blinked, playing it off. "What do you mean?"

Tori side-eyed her. "Girl, don't be coy. You two are always together, you're flying to see each other, writing songs, giggling at each other's lame jokes—and I heard about that karaoke night in Tokyo from a very reliable source."

Glo laughed, a little flustered. "We're just... cool."

"Cool?" Tori arched a brow, sitting up. "Glo, you don't just kiss your friend. That's not cool, that's confusion in lip gloss."

Glo tried to brush it off, but the words stuck with her.

Later that night, curled up in one of the plush velvet chairs in her backyard, legs tucked under her and a cozy hoodie over her shorts, she FaceTimed Shawn.

He was in a hotel room in New York, his guitar leaned in the corner, wearing a simple tank top and chain. He smiled when he saw her.

"Hey, sunshine."

"Hey," she smiled back. Her voice caught slightly. "Can I ask you something?"

He sat up a little straighter. "Of course."

She hesitated, biting her lip. "What are we?"

Shawn's eyes softened. He ran a hand through his curls and looked straight at her, serious now.

"I was wondering when you were gonna ask," he said quietly.

"And?" she asked, heart pounding a little.

He leaned closer to the camera. "You're not just someone I write songs with. Or hang out with. I care about you—a lot. I didn't know how to bring it up because I didn't want to pressure you... but yeah, I've been falling for you. And if you want us to be something more... I want that too."

Glo smiled shyly, her face warming. "Good," she whispered. "Because me too."

Neither of them said anything for a second. They just grinned like fools at each other through the screen.

It wasn't labeled before, but now it had a name. Something real. Something quietly beautiful.

And from that moment forward... everything changed.

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The sun was setting in the most unreal way—cotton candy skies stretched above the shoreline as Glo and Shawn walked barefoot across the warm sand, hand in hand, the sound of waves lapping behind them and the buzz of their friends still laughing by the bonfire.

Glo had a hoodie on—Shawn's, actually, oversized and smelling like his cologne—and her hair was in a messy bun from swimming earlier. Shawn had on black board shorts and a loose tank, the saltwater still drying on his skin. They were sunkissed, relaxed, and happy.

Every now and then, one of them would lean in for a kiss—quick, smiley ones. Or longer, slower ones when they thought no one was looking.

But everyone noticed.

Tori shot Glo a wink when Shawn pulled her into his lap while they sat on the blanket. And one of Shawn's buddies snapped a pic of them walking into the water together like it was some kind of movie moment.

Later that week, after the beach glow still hadn't quite worn off, Glo and Shawn went on a simple coffee run. It wasn't even supposed to be a whole thing—just comfy clothes, no glam, music playing low in the car. They stopped at a little vegan café in Venice, grabbed smoothies and avocado toast, and were just walking back to his car... when it happened.

Out of nowhere, a few paparazzi swarmed.

TMZ.

A guy with a camera popped up, walking backward in front of them like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.

"Shawn! Gloria! Are you two together?""Is it official?""Is she your new girlfriend?""Are you guys writing a full album together or is this just a romantic collab?"

Glo blinked, a little caught off guard, but Shawn stayed cool. Without missing a beat, he gently placed a hand on her lower back and guided her toward the car, his other hand shielding her slightly.

He smiled politely but didn't stop walking.

"We're just getting lunch, man," he said casually, as if they weren't being filmed.

"But Shawn, what's the truth—is this the new celeb couple we've all been waiting for?"

Shawn just looked back over his shoulder and said with a little smirk, "She's the coolest person I know. That's all I'll say."

Glo couldn't help the shy smile that crept up on her face.

They slid into his car, doors closing with a soft click, shutting the outside world away. The second they pulled off, Glo exhaled and laughed, shaking her head.

"That was wild."

Shawn glanced at her with that familiar boyish grin. "Guess we're that interesting now."

She gave him a look. "You played that way too smooth."

He shrugged, teasing, "I've had practice."

She rolled her eyes, and before the next red light turned green, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for not freaking out."

He looked at her, soft and real. "Never. You got me—I got you."

And even though they didn't say it out loud to the cameras... it was obvious.They were together.And they were happy.

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Gloria "Glo" Miller's career was anything but on pause.

Back in California, in between cute beach days and low-key hangouts with Shawn, she was locked in—mentally, physically, and emotionally. Her training for the US Open was back in full swing, and if anything, her time in California had helped her recharge. She was sharper. Faster. Stronger.

Her coaches noticed it immediately.Her serve had more power.Her footwork had tightened up.She was focused in a way that didn't just say "I want to win"—it said "I will."

Nike released a new campaign built around her: bold, cinematic, and unapologetically Glo. The tagline? "Don't Dim."It showed her sweating it out in training, slamming serves under the lights, walking through airports, stretching backstage at fashion shows, even laughing mid-practice with a mouthful of fruit snacks.It was real.It was her.

She also landed the cover of Vogue's summer athletic issue—posing in designer tenniswear on a clay court in Montecito. The profile called her "a once-in-a-generation athlete with the magnetism of a pop star and the discipline of a monk."

And speaking of pop stars, her brief, mysterious appearance on Shawn's album had blown up everywhere. Everyone wanted to know—was she going to do music now too?Well... maybe not a whole album, but she was working on something.

She started writing on her own—quietly. In notebooks. In her Notes app. Little verses and melodies that she didn't even plan to share at first. But one day in the studio with Tori, just messing around with a beat her producer friend sent, Glo ended up recording a raw, stripped-back track.It was about pressure.About growing up with the weight of everyone's expectations.About faith, identity, and holding on to your own voice when the world wants to mold you into something else.

She didn't post the full song—just a 45-second clip. Her in a hoodie, minimal makeup, hair braided back, sitting on the edge of her bed.

And in less than 12 hours... it went viral.

"This is the realest thing I've heard in a minute.""Glo got BARS???""Drop the full track PLEASE."

With all that heat, her team started making quiet calls. Producers. Songwriters. Licensing managers. Everyone was suddenly interested in hearing more.

Still, Glo made it very clear:Tennis comes first.That was the foundation. Her purpose. Her plan.

But now...She was starting to build something even bigger.

An empire rooted in authenticity.Not just an athlete.Not just a style icon.Not just someone's rumored girlfriend.

Glo was a force.And she was just getting started.

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By late summer 2018, Gloria and Shawn had been quietly seeing each other for months, and while neither of them had officially confirmed their relationship to the public, their inner circles knew the truth. So it was only natural that the time came for them to meet each other's families.

Shawn flew down to Florida first, arriving just before a small local tournament where Glo was making an appearance. It was his first time meeting David and Lauren Miller—Glo's dad was immediately protective, naturally, especially being both her father and her coach. But Lauren, ever the warm hostess, gave Shawn a hug and whispered, "Don't worry, he just needs to see you treat her right."

During dinner at their home, the tension eased. Shawn charmed them both, especially after watching Glo and her dad hit the court for some drills and he cheered like a proud boyfriend from the sidelines. Afterward, the four of them sat around their outdoor firepit, roasting marshmallows and laughing at stories from Glo's childhood—Shawn soaking up every word.

A few weeks later, it was Glo's turn. She traveled to Toronto with Shawn, where his parents, Karen and Manuel, welcomed her with open arms. His younger sister Aaliyah was excited to finally meet "the girl who makes Shawn write all these love songs." The Mendes family home was cozy, full of warmth and music, and Glo felt at ease immediately.

One night, Karen and Glo sat at the kitchen island together drinking tea. Karen looked at her kindly and said, "I can see you make him really happy. He hasn't stopped smiling since you came."

Back in L.A., Glo continued training hard, with David keeping up her conditioning and strategy sessions via FaceTime or flying in occasionally. She was preparing for the 2018 US Open, while also being pulled into more endorsement deals and magazine features. Nike was extending her contract, and she was on track to become one of the most recognizable faces in tennis.

But even as her star rose, the comfort of those quiet, private moments with Shawn—hiking Runyon Canyon, cooking together, watching movies on the projector in her theater room—kept her grounded.

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August 27, 2018 — Flushing Meadows, New York. The US Open.

The air was electric.

Glo had been here before—walked these same corridors, felt that same stomach-tightening anticipation. But this year felt different. This time, the world was watching her more than ever. Her Nike billboards were towering above Times Square, she had just made Teen Vogue's "21 Under 21" list, and she was the top-seeded American woman under 21.

Her coach—and father—David Miller stood courtside with his arms folded, sunglasses on, completely dialed in. Glo gave him a little nod as she stepped out onto the court in her sleek Nike match outfit: a rich gold tank with black detailing, matching skirt, and her signature braid tied back in a ribbon that fluttered when she moved. She looked like the future of tennis.

The crowd roared as she walked out. Somewhere in the stands were Lauren, her mother; Tori, waving a hand-painted sign that read "GO GLO!"—and a few rows above, wearing a baseball cap low over his eyes: Shawn.

Round by round, Glo made her way through the draw. Her footwork was sharper than ever, her serve more precise, and her mental game was locked in. She didn't let nerves get to her. The paparazzi outside the courts might've cared about her love life, but inside? It was just her, the racket, the opponent, and the roar of the crowd.

In the quarterfinals, she faced off against a seasoned European veteran who tried to rattle her with aggressive play, but Glo held her own. She pulled off a tight three-set win, falling to her knees when she landed the final ace.

In the semifinals, she faced a fellow American—someone she'd looked up to as a kid. It was a battle of generations, and the match was brutal. Long rallies, sweat, a busted string mid-game—but Glo edged her out in two tight sets, earning her spot in the final.

On September 8, 2018, Gloria "Glo" Miller walked onto Arthur Ashe Stadium for the US Open final. The energy in the stadium was almost deafening. It was primetime. Millions were watching. Commentators had already begun comparing her meteoric rise to that of Serena Williams.

She played the match of her life. Calm under pressure, eyes locked in, she danced across the court like she was born to be there. When she won the final point—smashing a forehand down the line—she collapsed, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Her father jumped over the barrier, lifting her into a hug.

Shawn watched from the stands, overwhelmed. He pulled his cap down to cover his face but couldn't help grinning as she held her trophy high.

That night, she FaceTimed her extended family in Florida, did interviews back-to-back, and changed into a chic white jumpsuit for the champion's dinner. Later, she and Shawn snuck out for milkshakes at a diner in Queens, sitting in a corner booth with her trophy beside them.

"You did it," he whispered, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

"No," Glo smiled. "We did it."

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Late September 2018 — New York City, again. This time, not for tennis.

The city buzzed in a different way now. The US Open had come and gone, but Gloria "Glo" Miller's face was everywhere. People who didn't even watch tennis suddenly knew her name. She had been trending on Twitter for three days straight after her win. Vogue had named her "the next American icon." And Coach — yes, Coach — noticed.

It started with a phone call. Glo was still in New York doing a whirlwind of interviews when her agent, Tara, got the call from Coach's creative team.

"They want you," Tara told her, nearly breathless with excitement as they walked through Midtown traffic after a shoot for GQ Style. "Not just as a brand ambassador. Not just to model a bag. They want a capsule collection. Bags. Apparel. Accessories. Designed with you. They wanna do this whole 'young America' meets legacy heritage thing. And you're the face of it."

Glo blinked. "Wait... like... they want me to design?"

"Yes, girl," Tara said, pausing dramatically. "The Glo x Coach collection."

It felt surreal. Her chest fluttered, but her mind locked in. "I want the pieces to feel like me," she said after a few beats. "Strong but soft. Like, sporty but... elegant. Nothing that's too stiff. I don't like stiff."

"Say less," Tara grinned.

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October 2018 — Coach Headquarters, Hudson Yards

Glo walked into the design studio with a neat notebook under her arm, dressed in soft cream trousers, a rust-toned crop top, and her Nike sneakers. Her braids were freshly done, two gold hoops glinting in her ears. She looked like a walking ad already.

The Coach team greeted her like royalty.

The creative director, Stuart, stood up from a leather couch and said, "We're so excited you're here. The way you move. The way you carry yourself. It's timeless, but you're also so now. We're not trying to make you fit Coach. We want Coach to meet you where you are."

Glo smiled, cheeks warming, but her voice was clear. "I wanna make something for the girls who go from the court to dinner. For the ones who grew up on gold jewelry and pink lip gloss and Sunday church. But I also want it to be cool in, like, Milan."

Stuart lit up. "I love that."

They got to work. For the next few weeks, between training and press, Glo made regular trips to the Coach office. She flipped through leather swatches, gave notes on bag shapes ("That one's cute, but it needs a thicker strap — I don't want it falling off the shoulder"), and hand-sketched a duffle bag inspired by her father's old tennis gear.

Each piece had her signature embossed somewhere subtle — a tiny G in script, or a gold-foiled "Glo" on the inside pocket of the handbags.

The line would feature:

• The Glo Duffle — a soft-structured, sporty-luxury bag with leather tennis strap detail.

• The Court Clutch — sleek, with clean lines and a nod to 70s New York glam.

• The Victory Jacket — a cropped varsity jacket in deep navy with a corduroy collar and "Miller" embroidered along the chest.

• The Smash Tote — roomy, everyday canvas with colorful leather trim.

• And accessories: gold-plated charms, silk hair scarves, leather phone pouches, and enamel pins shaped like tennis rackets and hearts.

They planned the shoot for December, but the promo machine started immediately.

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November 2018 — Coach x Glo teaser drops

Coach posted a cryptic teaser on their Instagram: a close-up of a gloved hand holding a tennis ball covered in vintage floral print. The caption read:"Serving something special. Glo x Coach coming Spring 2019."

The internet broke.

Black Twitter exploded. Fashion blogs ran with it. Teen Vogue did a write-up within an hour. Headlines read:"Coach Taps Tennis Star Glo Miller for Groundbreaking Collection""From Grand Slams to Glam Slams: Glo Goes Designer"

Glo didn't say anything right away. She let the tease simmer. Her next post was a black and white photo of her smiling wide, eyes closed, holding a coffee cup, with the caption:"dreaming bigger than my serve. 🖤 #GloXCoach"

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December 2018 — The campaign shoot

They shot it in Harlem, on brownstone steps and basketball courts. Glo wore the Victory Jacket over a silk dress and sneakers, swinging a Smash Tote over her shoulder while laughing with kids from the neighborhood who'd been invited to cameo.

One setup had her sitting on an old-school stoop at sunset, the Glo Duffle at her feet, her braids wrapped in the Coach scarf, gold lip gloss shining. She looked like the girl next door... who just happened to be a world champion.

Shawn came to set on the last day, quietly standing behind the monitors. When she was done, she walked over and slung her bag across her chest.

"So," she teased, "you think I could ever walk a runway?"

He grinned. "You just designed one."

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