the red carpet’s chaos. camera flashes, publicists shouting, fans screaming. courtney’s posing with the cast, laughing at something jasmine said, but her eyes keep flicking sideways—to you, standing just a few feet away in a sleek black suit, arm wrapped around liv as you both smile cheesily into the cameras.

no one knows. not really… well, sophie figured it out on her own; courtney always wanted to be around you. you’ve kept it quiet—glances held too long, fingertips brushing between takes, inside jokes nobody else gets.

courtney steps down from the backdrop and makes her way to you like it’s casual. like her heart’s not hammering under her dress. “you clean up okay,” she murmurs, adjusting your collar.

you smirk, leaning in just a little too close for cameras. “you saying i don’t always?” courtney huffs a laugh. “you wore a hoodie with a ketchup stain yesterday.”

“it was aesthetic.”

you’re standing too close now. they both know it. but no one’s paying attention—everyone’s caught up in cast reunions and magazine interviews.

courtney reaches for your hand, just for a second, just behind the fold of a gown. a soft squeeze. grounding. “after-‘party’?” you ask, voice low.

“your place,” courtney replies, eyes flicking to your lips, then back up. “too many cameras here.” you give the smallest nod. a promise.

and then courtney’s swept away again, smiling for photos like she’s not already thinking about peeling off red carpet expectations and curling up on your couch with a bowl of popcorn and no audience but each other.