If your parents had any idea how this night was actually going, they’d probably be regretting letting Walker stay over.

You hadn’t expected them to agree in the first place—not easily, at least. But after enough convincing (and them knowing how much you hated staying alone), they reluctantly gave in. His parents too, after making it very clear they were trusting you both to be responsible.

Which, technically, you were being.

If responsible meant you stealing his shirt, him lying shirtless in your bed, and both of you with face masks on as he recorded you dramatically belting Hopelessly Devoted to You into a hairbrush.

“You look ridiculous,” he laughed, phone shaking in his hands as you spun around the room. His t-shirt swallowed you, oversized enough that your shorts barely showed, and for some reason, he found that way too amusing. Or maybe too cute. He wasn’t sure which.

“But now… there’s nowhere to hide!” You clutched your chest dramatically, throwing your head back. “Since you pushed my love aside—”

Walker nearly dropped his phone from laughing. “Oh my God, please.”

“I’m out of my head!” You twirled toward him, pointing at him like he was the one who broke your heart. “Hopelessly devoted to you!”

He grinned, shaking his head. “You are so unserious.”

“Shut up,” you said between giggles, still swaying as the music played.

He just smirked, still watching. And that was the dangerous part—because his eyes lingered just a little too long, his grin softening just a little too much.

And maybe it was the way the dim light hit him just right. Or the fact that despite all the teasing, he still let you steal his shirt, still let you drag him into this—into something easy, something that made both of you forget about everything else.

Or maybe it was just that stupid, stupid way he looked at you.

Like you were something he was still hopelessly devoted to.