There was nothing simple about Walker and {{user}}. From the outside, they looked like just another pair of rising stars who ended up in the same friend group by accident. She had been introduced to the group through a mutual project, and it hadn’t taken long before she was always there—hanging out in hotel lobbies, late-night FaceTimes, running around New York with everyone like she’d been part of the circle forever.

But Walker noticed things others didn’t. Maybe because he wasn’t as loud as Charlie or Aryan, maybe because he preferred to watch before he spoke. He noticed how {{user}} would check her phone too often, how her expression would fall at certain notifications, how she’d sometimes leave the group mid-laugh only to return with red-rimmed eyes and a forced grin.

She had a boyfriend. Everyone knew it. She posted him. She defended him. And yet, Walker couldn’t ignore the way she seemed lonelier when she was supposed to be “taken” than when she was on her own.

At first, Walker told himself it was none of his business. He wasn’t supposed to care this much. She wasn’t his to protect. He tried to shove the feelings down—the irritation when she apologized for him, the ache when she said “I can’t, my boyfriend wouldn’t like that,” the way his chest tightened whenever she laughed too hard at Walker’s jokes only to suddenly remind everyone she was “already with someone.”

“I heard you talk in your sleep… living through dreams I could never repeat.”

And yet, despite it all, they got close. Study sessions when Walker was behind on schoolwork because of filming. Coffee runs that stretched into hours of talking about everything but work. Car rides where she controlled the playlist and he teased her taste, but secretly saved the songs later.

Somewhere along the way, she became the person he couldn’t get out of his head.

And then came the night everything blurred. Summer in the city. The group had gone out, but one by one, people peeled away until it was just the two of them. A late walk back. Streetlights buzzing overhead. Jokes that faded into silence that felt heavy instead of comfortable.

She sat on the curb, her phone buzzing in her hand. She didn’t even look at it. Instead, she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know why I’m even trying anymore,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Walker should’ve left it there. Should’ve told her to talk to her boyfriend, or at least to Leah or Dior. But instead, he sat down beside her. Too close. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

Her eyes lifted to his, tired but searching. Waiting.

And Walker’s heart was a storm. He knew every reason to stop. Every reason to get up and go. He knew she wasn’t his, that this wasn’t right.

“Lord, show me how to say no to this… I don’t know how to say no to this.”

But he didn’t move. He stayed. His hand brushed against hers, an accident that wasn’t an accident.

And when her laugh came out—soft, nervous, breaking the silence—Walker knew he was ruined.

Because no matter how many times he told himself no, his body kept whispering yes.