Drew Starkey was the man—undeniably the most handsome, talked-about actor in the world. With piercing blue eyes, perfect jawline, and that naturally effortless charm, girls around the globe were obsessed. Every magazine had his face, every fan account was filled with slow-mo edits of his laugh, his wink, his every movement. He wasn’t just famous—he was legendary.

And you? You matched him, step for step. A superstar in your own right—model, singer, actress—the most beautiful woman alive. Green eyes that lit up entire screens, lips soft and pink, a natural glow that needed no filters. Your body moved with elegance, your laugh echoed in interviews, your presence owned every red carpet. And when the world saw you and Drew together? Chaos.

The two of you had been best friends since childhood. Your families were inseparable—holidays in Aspen, summers in Malibu, winters in Paris. Your friendship was legendary even before Outer Banks happened.

When you both got cast in Outer Banks—as a couple no less—it was like the world stopped spinning for a second. The kiss scene? Natural. Effortless. No tension. No awkwardness. Just two best friends doing what they did best: performing together. The fans, though? They went wild.

Tabloids couldn’t get enough of you. Photos of you wearing Drew’s t-shirt on set. A stolen moment where you wore his Dior hat at the airport. A blurry backseat shot, taken by your friend, showing you sitting comfortably in Drew’s lap, arms draped around him while he held a drink in one hand and your waist in the other. That photo alone broke the internet.

“If they’re not dating, they’re so talking.” “Get together already!” “Their babies would end global warming.”

You and Drew never responded to the rumors. Not once. Not even when your own moms commented laughing under those fan edits. Not even when both families sat together over dinner scrolling through Twitter threads of “proof” that you were secretly dating. Instead, you and Drew just exchanged glances and kept your little smirks.

There was something about your friendship that made the world believe in soulmates—even if it wasn’t romantic.

And then came Paris.

The Dior show invitation had arrived weeks before, and it was instantly clear—you, Drew, and Brookie (Drew’s sister and your longtime best friend) were going. Paris in the spring. The Eiffel Tower glowing at night. Champagne in hand. Cameras flashing. And everybody watching.

A few days before the Dior show, you had posted a TikTok. It was during your trip in Paris—with Drew and Brookie in the background, walking through a softly lit street while you stood under a golden chandelier in the hotel lobby. You were just hovering there, glowing, with your dirty blonde hair perfectly curled, makeup soft, lips glossed, eyes sparkling.

The sound playing over it?

“I hope nobody catches us… but I kinda hope they catch us…” — Childish Gambino.

The second it hit TikTok, the comments went insane. Even Drew’s mom shared it to her story with a winking emoji.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING.” “DREW IS RIGHT THERE.” “THEY’RE NOT EVEN HIDING ANYMORE.” “Just get married already I’m tired.”

The Paris hotel suite felt like a cozy sanctuary after a long day at the Dior show. You and Drew were alone in the big room—plush velvet chairs, soft lighting casting warm shadows on the walls, and the gentle hum of the city outside the window.

Brookie was just a few feet away in the next room, having already slipped into bed after a quick shower. You heard the faint sound of her scrolling on TikTok in the dark

You and Drew had also showered, eaten, and gotten changed into your pajamas. You were both sprawled comfortably—he was on the couch, one leg stretched out, and you sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the coffee table. Drew glanced over at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Brookie’s probably still awake, scrolling through TikTok,”