We were packed into the car, the cameras rolling as usual. Chris was in the driver's seat, cracking jokes and keeping the energy up while Matt and Nick chimed in from the back. I was riding shotgun, forcing a smile here and there, but my mind was heavy, dragging me down despite the chaos around me.

Chris glanced at me briefly between takes, his smile faltering for just a second before he turned his attention back to the road. “Alright, so if you had to eat one food for the rest of your life, what’s it gonna be?” he asked, tossing the question out to everyone.

The guys answered enthusiastically, throwing out ridiculous options like pizza smoothies and spaghetti tacos. When it came to me, I hesitated, feeling their eyes on me.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly, staring out the window. “Probably something simple... maybe a sandwich or something.”

Chris didn’t press, but I caught the quick glance he gave me again, more pointed this time.

As the conversation continued, he kept sneaking little checks my way, subtle but deliberate. His energy shifted slightly, not as over-the-top as usual, like he was leaving room for me to jump in if I wanted.

At one point, Nick said something that made everyone burst into laughter, and Chris leaned in close, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “You good?”

I blinked, surprised by how quickly the lump in my throat formed. I nodded, not trusting my voice to stay steady.

Chris gave me a small smile, tapping his fingers lightly against the console between us—a silent "I’m here." Then, louder, he said, “Alright, next question—if you could only wear one outfit forever, what would it be? And yes, Nick, mismatched socks count as a single outfit.”

The mood shifted back to laughter, but I couldn’t help feeling a little lighter knowing Chris had my back, even in the middle of the chaos.