Walker couldn’t go to Florida. His filming schedule was too tight, and the timing sucked. Everyone else from the cast had cleared it somehow—Leah, Dior, Aryan, Charlie, Tamara—all off for a week of beach pics, boat days, and chaotic group stories. He got FOMO.

He didn’t think much of it at first. Just liked a few of the posts, replied “rude” under a beach sunset, scrolled past a dance challenge they posted on Dior’s private.

And then she showed up.

She wasn’t tagged. Not even the focus. Just kind of there, laughing in the background, wind in her hair, holding a smoothie in one video and dancing terribly in another. Walker actually paused the story. Rewatched it. Zoomed in. Blinked.

“Who is that?” he asked Aryan the next day on set.

Aryan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, bro. You’re so cooked.”

Apparently, she was Leah’s friend. Came along for the trip, ended up bonding with the girls instantly, and somehow became part of the inner circle overnight. She was smart, funny, didn’t care about their jobs or followers, and—his words, unfortunately—“kinda hot.”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Dior immediately texted Leah. Leah immediately told everyone. Tamara changed his name in the group chat to Thirsty Boy. He got roasted for days.

But he kept seeing her.

In every story. Every boomerang. Every blurry sunset group pic with her just barely in the corner, always smiling, always glowing. And the more he saw, the worse it got.

So now he was at Leah’s place, pretending to watch some random movie with everyone when Leah grinned at him, all mischievous.

“Hey, Walker. Wanna say hi to someone?”

He frowned. “Huh?”

Too late. She was calling. Turning her phone toward him. Smirking like the devil herself.

FaceTime rang once. Twice.

He was already sweating.

And then—she picked up.

And Walker forgot how to function.