why would you ever kiss me? im not even half as pretty

The plane hums softly beneath you, clouds drifting past the window. Walker sits beside you, his hand resting lightly over yours, eyes closed in a half-sleep. Vancouver waits below—a new city, a new adventure. You’re here with him. Just you and him. No one else.

The first few days blur by. When he’s on set, you wander—coffee shops tucked into corners, streets lined with trees, the ocean breeze brushing your cheeks. When he’s free, you’re inseparable. Late-night walks, sharing fries in tiny diners, getting lost and laughing about it. With him, the city feels smaller and warmer—like it belongs to you both.

But every so often, the doubt slips in.

Like when fans post clips from set, their excitement flooding every corner of the internet—"I wonder who he's dating 👀"—and your stomach knots.

You shove your hands deeper into your jacket pockets, your steps slowing. He could be with anyone. Someone famous.

“We're landing” Walker’s voice cuts through your spiral. You blink, and he’s watching the horizon.

You sprint through the crisp Vancouver air, laughter bubbling from your chest as you and Walker race toward the taco truck. His feet pound the pavement beside you, but you push harder, fueled by his playful shout—

“No way you’re beating me!”

But you do. Barely. You reach the truck, breathless and triumphant.

“Winner!” you gasp, grinning.

Minutes later, you’re sharing tacos, warm and messy. When you finish, you gather the plates. “I got it,” you say, heading to the trash can nearby.

Two girls, probably around your age, eyes wide and starstruck. One clutches her phone tightly.

“Oh my God, you’re Walker Scobell,” one breathes, excitement bubbling in every word. The second girl giggles, cheeks flushed. “We love you. Percy Jackson is, like, our whole childhood! Can we have a picture?"

Walker grins and pulls you closer. "Sure!"

The girls look at you judgmentally, not wanting a stranger to be part of their picture. "She's going to be in the picture?"