She had been building her little corner of the internet for months—funny, relatable interviews with teen actors that somehow went viral enough to get noticed. And now… she had booked the cast of the show.
Walker. Naturally, that made her nervous. But she was also excited. He wasn’t just talented; he had that presence. Funny, a little self-aware, but undeniably magnetic.
Backstage, minutes before the cameras rolled, he leaned against the wall, scanning the room, arms crossed. He caught her looking and tilted his head, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. Not over-the-top, not obnoxious. Just… aware.
“You seem ready,” she said, teasing lightly.
He shrugged, voice low, quiet, softer than the image he usually put out. “Do I? Or am I just… nervous?”
She smirked. “You? Nervous?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, eyes darting briefly away, then back. “Kind of.”
She laughed softly. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, almost to himself, “well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
When the cameras started rolling, everything shifted.
Walker slid into his chair with casual confidence, smirking at the lights, the crew, the cameras. He was on, polished, cocky in the way he knew would play well on air. But his eyes kept flicking to her, just for a second longer than necessary.
She asked the first question, and he leaned forward, elbows on knees, smirked at the camera, letting his charisma do the work. But every now and then, when he answered, his gaze softened toward her.
“Honestly,” he said at one point, leaning back and flipping his hair, “my favorite part of filming… probably having a little fun on set.”
She raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Oh? Like what?”
He smirked at the camera, playing it cool, then glanced at her, quieter this time. “You know… just moments that don’t get caught on film. Stuff only people here get to see.”
Leah and Aryan exchanged looks behind the cameras. Leah nudged Aryan, whispering, “He’s literally lowkey flirting with her.”
Aryan snorted. “And he’s so smooth about it, it’s almost scary.”
Walker’s subtle flirty moments kept happening—small smirks when she laughed, leaning slightly closer when he thought no one would notice, a quiet joke directed just at her while answering something for the audience. He wasn’t over-the-top; he was careful. Calculated. Soft enough that only she caught it.
She caught herself smiling, almost out loud, more than once.
At one point, he answered a question, paused, and glanced at her like he was making sure she was following. “You’re laughing at the right part, right?” he asked, voice quiet enough that she had to lean slightly forward to hear.
“I am,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual, heart flipping.
The castmates—Leah and Aryan—were losing it, whispering snorts and giggles. “Oh my God, the way he’s looking at her,” Leah muttered.
Walker caught her eye again mid-answer, subtle but deliberate. He didn’t break the confident, cocky image for the cameras—he wouldn’t. But she could see it in the little details: the way his eyes lingered, the slight tilt of his head, the way he shifted when she laughed.