The set of Outer Banks is chaotic as usual—people running around, adjusting lights, resetting cameras. But inside Drew’s trailer, it’s quiet, almost too quiet. After a long day of filming, you two have finally finished your scenes for today.

“Man, I am dead,” you groan, throwing yourself onto the tiny bed. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Drew laughs from the doorway, watching you collapse like you’ve just run a marathon. “You always say that. You should be used to it by now.”

You smirk up at him, not bothering to lift your head. “I’m not a machine, Drew. Just saying, my legs have officially clocked out.”

The bed is way too small for two people, but Drew slides in next to you without hesitation, the mattress creaking under the added weight. There’s barely any room to move, but he makes himself comfortable.

The air is heavy with exhaustion, and the last thing you want is to talk, so you rest your head on his biceps. Your arm loosely wrapped around his waist.

Drew looks down at you, and you catch the way his expression softens, just a little. “You good?”

“Mmhmm,” you mumble, already half asleep. The warmth of his arm, the curve of his strong biceps and the steady rhythm of his breathing—it’s enough to lull you into a daze.

He shifts, but only slightly, making sure you’re settled. “You owe me a movie marathon later.”

You barely register the words, but you manage to mumble, “Promise. But I need a power nap first.”

His voice lowers again, teasing but soft. “You better not drool on me while you’re at it.”