Walker was just some guy tonight. He’d let his friend convince him to wear the Top Gun jacket again because “it makes your shoulders look good, bro.” He didn’t argue. They pregamed with gummy worms and energy drinks, and someone spilled Monster on the car seat before they even made it to the party.

Now they were here—too loud, too hyped, already halfway sweaty.

You and your friends had claimed the snack table like it was a VIP lounge. You were in a black dress and red boots, devil horns on point, looking way too good for the sticky tile floor you were standing on. Your whole group looked like they walked out of a music video. You’d been rating people’s costumes for an hour and roasting anyone with a Spirit Halloween tag still attached.

Then came the moment.

One of Walker’s friends attempted a dramatic spin move to dodge a spilled drink… and instead flew straight into a folding table like a cartoon character.

Your best friend didn’t even blink. “MAN DOWN!” she shouted like it was breaking news.

Walker turned, saw his friend on the ground, then looked up and spotted your group trying (and failing) not to laugh.

He walked closer, grinning as he pushed his sunglasses up into his hair.

“Alright,” he said, pointing at your friend, “who invited the narrator from Grey’s Anatomy?”