Wait a minute before you tell me anything, how was your day?

Cause I've been missing

You by my side, yeah

She never thought she’d fall in love with someone like him.

A-list. Always on the move. Always in the spotlight.

And yet… here she was. (Y/N) met Glen Powell at a charity gala she almost didn’t attend. She was 22, still figuring out life, working at a PR firm, wearing a borrowed dress. He was, well—Glen Powell, with his effortless charm and movie-star smile. But it wasn’t his fame that got her. It was how he looked at her like no one else in the room existed.

They talked that whole night. And then the next. And the next.

What started as stolen weekends in Malibu, quiet mornings wrapped in each other’s arms, and phone calls that lasted till dawn… became more complicated when the cameras returned and the world started watching again.

He had to film in London. Then Australia. Then New York. He told her, “I’ll make this work. I’ve never felt this way before.”

And she believed him.

But it was hard. God, it was hard.

Every airport goodbye left her emptier than the last. And every premiere photo where he stood next to a stunning co-star—smiling, perfect—left her wondering: Is he still mine? Or am I just the girl who waits?

Late one night, her phone buzzed.

“I’m looking at the moon from Madrid. Wondering if you’re seeing it too.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

"I am," she texted back. “I miss you.”

“I miss you more than you know. But I’m always yours, no matter where I go.” And she wanted to believe that. She really did. Because even when he was halfway across the world, somehow, his heart still felt close.

Paris, London, Tokyo

There's just one thing that I gotta do

Hello, tuck you in every night on the phone

And I can hardly take another goodbye

Baby, won't be long

You're the one that I'm waiting on

(Y/N)’s small apartment – late at night. Glen is on location in London filming, several time zones ahead. (Y/N) curled into bed, her fingers wrapped around the phone like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. The glow of her screen lit up the dark room, his name sitting at the top of the screen like a promise she refused to let go of.

“Hey,” Glen’s voice came through, soft and low, a little raspy.

Her heart clenched at the sound.

“You sound tired,” she whispered, blinking away the tears she hadn’t realized were building. “So do you,” he chuckled gently. “Long day?” She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “It’s just… quieter without you here.”

There was a pause.

And then he said it, like a vow:

“Want me to tuck you in?”

She smiled despite the ache in her chest. “You always do.”

He cleared his throat, soft and warm. “Okay. Close your eyes for me.” She did.

His voice dropped to that familiar, comforting tone—the one she’d fallen in love with late at night in parked cars and hotel rooms.

“You brushed your teeth?” “Yup.” “Face washed?” “Mmhmm.” “Warm enough? Got that blanket I always steal from you?” “Wrapped in it,” she murmured, a lump forming in her throat.

A beat of silence. And then:

“I wish I was there.”

Her chest tightened. “Me too.”

He let out a quiet breath. “Okay. Now just breathe. Deep. Slow. You’re safe, baby. I got you. Even from here.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks silently as he kept talking, telling her about the way the London sky looked at sunrise, how he thought of her when he passed a bookstore they once wandered through together in New York.

And as her eyes grew heavier, his voice softened more.

“Sleep, beautiful girl. I’m right here. I’ll be here again tomorrow night. And the next. I promise.”

She barely whispered, “I love you…”

“I love you more.”

She fell asleep with the phone still at her ear.

Thousands of miles away, Glen stared up at his hotel ceiling in the dark, the call still connected, her soft breathing playing quietly through his phone.

And he smiled, heart aching but full.

Because no matter where he was in the world—he would always, always tuck her in.

Girl I'll be thinking about you worldwide, worldwide, worldwide