A few months ago, Walker did this dumb, half-joking interview clip — the one that blew up on TikTok because of how normal he sounded for someone who’s been in movies since he was twelve. “Yeah, once I get my license, I kinda wanna deliver pizzas,” he’d laughed, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Just to feel like… a regular kid, y’know?”

Everyone thought he was kidding. But now it was summer. He’d wrapped filming weeks ago. The studio press tour was done, his phone was on Do Not Disturb, and he’d gotten his license on the first try. And now? He was out here. Working. Driving around town with a pizza bag burning up his passenger seat.

Your parents were on vacation somewhere in Cabo, drinking Margaritas. Naturally, that meant a sleepover at your place, the kind where half your friend group was screaming Bad Bunny lyrics in your kitchen and the other half was trying to find more Coke for the vodka someone definitely stole from their dad’s cabinet.

And, obviously, you ordered pizza. Three larges, breadsticks, wings — you weren’t about to cook.

So when the doorbell rang, you grabbed the cash your friend left on the counter and opened the door, not even checking the peephole. You expected some bored college kid on break. Some random stoner. Something normal.

“Pizza’s here!”

But instead — standing on your porch, under your flickering porch light — was Walker Scobell. In a backwards cap. With a red pizza place shirt that didn’t fit right. Holding a pizza bag like it might explode.

Your brain glitched. Like, full static. “…Holy shit.” You didn’t even mean to say it out loud. It just fell out.

He looked up, startled, then broke into this shy half-smile — the kind you’d seen him do in interviews a hundred times. Because even if she wasn’t a fan, or anything like that, he was all over TikTok anyway. Except this time, it was for you. “Uh. Hey.” He shifted the bag in his hands. “Large pepperoni?”

You stared at him. Then the pizza. Then him again. “Are you… actually Walker Scobell?”

He huffed a breathy laugh, cheeks going pink as he nodded. “Yeah. Surprise. Don’t tell TikTok, okay?”

Inside, someone yelled, “WHO IS IT?” — and you ignored them, still standing there with your mouth open. “You… you deliver pizza?” you blurted.

He ducked his head, grinning crookedly. “Yeah. I got bored. Plus I really wanted free breadsticks.” He held the box out, and when you grabbed it, your fingers brushed his — warm, calloused, normal.

“Holy shit,” you whispered again, mostly to yourself this time.

He lifted an eyebrow, smirk creeping in now. “You already said that, y’know.”

Before you could come up with a single normal thing to say, he nodded toward the house. “You gonna tip me, or…?”