Walker didn’t stop moving.
That was the first thing she noticed.
He paced the small green room like the floor might disappear if he stood still too long, hands tugging at the sleeves of his jacket, then smoothing them down, then doing it again. His knee bounced when he sat. When he stood back up, he rubbed his palms together like he was trying to warm them.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet,” she said gently.
He huffed out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Sorry. I just—this is Jimmy Fallon. Like. Jimmy Jimmy.”
She stepped in front of him before he could spiral any further, hands finding his automatically. They were warm. A little shaky.
“You’ve done interviews before,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but not like this,” he said, eyes wide in that way that made him look younger than seventeen for a second. “This one feels… loud.”
She smiled softly. “You’re allowed to be nervous.”
He looked at her then, really looked, like anchoring himself. “What if I forget how to talk?”
“Impossible,” she said. “You talk when you’re nervous. A lot.”
That earned her a crooked smile. The real one. The one that always meant she’d gotten through.
A knock came at the door. Five minutes.
Walker inhaled, then exhaled slowly, forehead resting briefly against hers. “Okay. Okay. I can do this.”
She squeezed his hands. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be you.”
He nodded, then hesitated. “You’ll be out there, right?”
“Front row,” she promised. “I’ll be the one aggressively nodding at everything you say.”
He laughed, quieter this time. “God. I love you.”
“I love you too. Go be amazing.”
He brushed a quick kiss to her temple—nothing dramatic, just familiar—and followed the producer down the hallway.
She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he disappeared.
⸻
The studio was brighter than she expected.
Lights everywhere. Cameras sliding smoothly across the floor. The crowd buzzed with energy, clapping on cue, laughter waiting to happen. She found her seat easily—someone had guided her there with a smile and a whispered, “He’s excited you’re here.”
Jimmy Fallon had actually come over during the break.
“Hey, you must be the girlfriend,” he said warmly, shaking her hand. “He’s great. Little nervous, but that’s my favorite kind of guest.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that checks out.”
When Walker walked out to applause, her chest tightened.
He waved a little awkwardly, shoulders slightly hunched, smile wide but unsure. He adjusted himself in the chair, nodded along to Jimmy’s intro, laughed a beat late at one joke and then immediately relaxed when the crowd laughed with him, not at him.
She could see it—his leg bouncing, fingers lacing together, unlacing, then gripping the armrest.
He talked with his hands more than usual.
He smiled at the floor when Jimmy teased him.
He took a breath before answering questions, like he was reminding himself to slow down.
And still—he was charming. Thoughtful. Funny in that unforced way that came from sincerity, not timing.
At one point, he glanced out at the audience.
His eyes found her immediately.
She gave him a small thumbs-up and mouthed, you’re doing great.
His shoulders dropped just a little after that. His smile softened.