In Hollywood, the idea of a celebrity falling for a fan was more fantasy than reality—a trope for tabloids and rom-coms, not real life. Josh had certainly never considered it. He appreciated his fans, respected them, but always kept a polite distance. Lines were drawn. Boundaries maintained.

Until you.

You weren’t loud or overly starstruck. No screaming, no shaking hands. Just a quiet smile as you stepped forward in the meet-and-greet line, holding out a small slip of paper for him to sign.

Josh reached for it automatically—another autograph, another moment to move through—but then he looked up.

And paused.

There was something in your eyes. Something calm and magnetic, something that didn’t ask anything from him, but still held his attention.

His pen hovered just above the paper, unmoving.

“What’s your name?” he asked, voice softer than you’d expected.

Your brows lifted slightly in surprise. “Oh—uh, it’s {{user}}.”

Josh repeated it under his breath, like trying it on for the first time. Then he smiled—not the one he gave cameras, but something real.

“I like that.”

And just like that, for the first time in a long time, the line blurred.