The crowd at the KCAs was loud enough to shake the floor — neon lights flashing, slime cannons warming up, every celebrity crammed backstage buzzing with nerves and excitement.

KATSEYE was up next.

You stood in the wings with your group, mic in hand, heart pounding against your ribs. Daniela bounced beside you, shaking out her hands.

“You ready, maknae?” she teased.

You grinned. “Let’s give them a Spanish verse they’ll never forget.”

The stage manager waved. “KATSEYE! You’re on!”

The music hit — the opening beat of “GABRIELA” thrumming through the arena — and you ran out with your group to a roar of screaming fans. Camera flashes strobed. Glow sticks waved.

You danced through the first chorus, adrenaline flooding your veins. Then Daniela stepped up beside you, her shoulder brushing yours.

“Listos?” she whispered into her mic.

You smirked. “Siempre.”

The track dropped into your verse, the Spanish lyrics flying effortlessly from your lips — Daniela harmonizing with you, the two of you spinning around each other like you’d been rehearsing for years instead of weeks. The crowd lost it.

What you didn’t see — couldn’t see — was Walker Scobell standing backstage, frozen like someone had hit pause.

He’d been invited as a presenter with the PJO cast, just chilling near the monitors, sipping from a juice pouch someone shoved at him. He wasn’t expecting this.

He wasn’t expecting you.

The moment the camera zoomed in on you — bright smile, powerful voice, moving with the kind of confidence that made people stop breathing — Walker’s jaw dropped.

“That’s KATSEYE’s maknae,” Leah said beside him. “She’s our age, right?”

Walker nodded, too quickly. “Yeah—I mean—yes—I think so—I just—uh—she’s really good.”

Charlie snorted. “Dude, you’re red.”

“I’m not—” He was. Bad.

And it only got worse when the Spanish verse ended and you winked into your mic, breathless and fierce. The arena shook with cheers.

Walker nearly fell off the equipment crate he was sitting on.

When the performance ended, KATSEYE jogged offstage, laughing and sweaty and glowing. The cast of PJO clapped as you passed, and you bowed politely, trying to catch your breath—

—and then your eyes locked with Walker’s.

Oh.

He was even cuter up close — messy blond hair, bright blue eyes, wearing a KCAs slime-green suit he somehow made look good. He froze like a deer in headlights. You did too.

Daniela elbowed you. Hard.

Walker snapped out of it first. Kind of. “Hey—uh—you were… amazing. Like, seriously. That verse? That was—wow.”

Your face warmed. “Thank you. I didn’t know you watched our performance.”

“I didn’t— I mean, I did—I just—Leah forced me—no, she didn’t— I—” He inhaled sharply. “I liked it.”

You laughed, soft and breathless from the adrenaline. “Well… I liked your movies. So we’re even.”

Leah muttered to Charlie, “They’re both losing it. It’s adorable.”

“Painfully,” Charlie agreed.

A handler called Walker to get ready for presenting.

He panicked. “Uh—wait—before I go—do you—are you guys sticking around after? Backstage?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We’re doing press.”

His shoulders dropped in visible relief. “Cool. Maybe I’ll… see you again?”

You tucked a loose strand behind your ear, smiling. “Maybe you will.”

He grinned — bright, nervous, a little too proud of himself — before running off with the cast.

Daniela stared at you with the smuggest look on earth.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “He was so whipped.”

You nudged her. “No he wasn’t.”

She raised both brows. “Girl, he forgot how to talk.”

You tried to hide your smile.

But you didn’t succeed.