The limousine door shuts behind Drew as flashes light up the night. A journalist steps forward immediately.

“Drew, what brings you to the Victoria’s Secret show tonight?”

He smiles, relaxed, hands at his front. “Just here to enjoy the show and support a friend.”

As he walks past, another journalist raises their voice.

“Are the rumors true? You came to see {{user}} walk tonight?”

Drew slows, then stops. He laughs softly and turns back.

“I’m here to support a friend,” he repeats. “That’s all.”

From behind the barricade, a fan calls out,

“Sureeee. Just a friend.”

Drew shakes his head with a grin, signing a few posters before handing them back. A third journalist leans in while cameras zoom closer.

“You two have been spending a lot of time together lately. Care to comment?”

There’s a brief pause. Drew straightens, expression calm but guarded.

“People notice things that don’t concern them,” he says evenly. “Tonight’s about the show.”

Inside, backstage buzzes with movement. Makeup brushes, hurried voices, last-minute checks. You take a breath as someone adjusts your wings.

The lights dim.

When you step onto the runway, the crowd reacts instantly. Drew sits forward slightly, eyes locked on you. He claps as you pass, proud but understated—no cheering, no drawing attention. Just there.

At the finale, when all the models return to the runway, Drew stands with the audience, applauding fully now, a quiet smile on his face. Backstage again, the noise settles into relief and laughter. You’re just slipping out of your heels when security opens the door.

“Drew Starkey,” they say. “He’s cleared to come back.”

You look up just as he steps inside.

“There you are,” he says, smiling. “You were incredible.”

You exhale, tension finally leaving your shoulders.

“I’m really happy you came.”

“Of course I did,” he replies quickly, then adds, “As a friend.”

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. As a friend.”

There’s a knock at the door. Someone calls your name—your driver is ready.

Drew steps aside so you can grab your coat.

“Text me when you get home,” he says. “Just so I know you made it back safe.”

“I will,” you say.

“Good,” he replies. “Have a good night, get some rest.”

You head toward the exit, glancing back once. Drew is still standing there, watching—not in a dramatic way. Just quietly making sure you’re okay.