We just needed a break. Europe had drained us—stress, expectations, life. So we packed our bags, booked a hotel in L.A., and promised ourselves nothing but laughter, sun, and alcohol. No plans, no drama. Just us.

That night, tipsy and glittering under the city lights, we stumbled into a bar—already a little too loud, a little too drunk. None of us had the faintest idea what kind of night it would turn into. We didn’t know the group of beautiful, magnetic strangers by the bar were the cast of a wildly popular series—Outer Banks. We didn’t even recognize them at first. It was just people. People who made us laugh. People who kept pouring drinks. People who started to feel like the night itself.

But all I saw was him. Drew. He had this quiet intensity in his eyes—like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and somehow that made me want him more. We flirted, the kind of flirt that hides behind laughter and drunken touches. His hand on my waist, my fingers brushing his jaw—casual things that made my skin burn.

Our friends peeled away one by one, until it was just us. He asked if I wanted to come back to his place. And I—drunk, reckless, and lightheaded from his attention—nodded.

We kissed like we’d waited years for it. Clothes on the floor, breathless whispers, heat and need. And then, sleep.

I woke up in his bed with a headache and a heart that dropped the second my memory cleared. Drew Starkey. Not just Drew. Celebrity Drew. And I—me—had just slept with someone the world watched on screen. I left before he even opened his eyes.

It was supposed to be forgotten. Just one night. Two strangers in a city that wasn’t home.

Two weeks later, back in Europe, my world crashed again. I felt off. Tired. Nauseous. Breasts sore. My best friend shoved a pregnancy test into my hand—and I cried before it even finished loading. Two lines.

Two lines. One night. Drew Starkey’s child.

I messaged him on Instagram with shaking fingers, not even sure he’d see it. But he replied. Shocked. Cold. Not cruel—but not warm either. He said he didn’t have time, filming was happening, life was happening. And subtly, he made it clear: he didn’t want it.

I stared at my screen, numb, alone, and ten years younger than him, carrying something he didn’t ask for.

But I didn’t ask for this either.