Chapter 6: 5

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It was nearly sunset when Walker found me loitering by the catering table, pretending to look interested in the endless trays of finger foods.

The air on set had settled into a quiet hum now that filming had wrapped for the day. I was still grappling with my frustration from earlier, the emotional scene that hadn't gone the way I wanted—or rather, hadn't gone perfectly.

"Hey," Walker said, strolling up with his usual lazy grin, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. He had a way of looking perpetually unbothered, and for some reason, it irritated me. "We're heading out to a spot near here. You should come."

"Who's we?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I grabbed a bottled water from the table.

"The cast, crew... you know, people." He shrugged, and his grin widened. "Don't worry, it's low-key. No red carpets."

I hesitated. The idea of hanging out with everyone—especially him—wasn't particularly appealing. Still, the thought of being alone in my hotel room, stewing over today's failures, wasn't much better. "Fine," I said. "But if it's lame, I'm leaving."

Walker laughed. "Deal."

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The place he'd chosen turned out to be a cozy, dimly lit restaurant with a private back patio. It was buzzing with energy—the kind of easy camaraderie that comes from a group of people working together.

I slid into a seat near the edge of the table, trying to stay on the periphery of their jokes and laughter while still appearing approachable.

Walker, of course, was in the middle of it all, cracking jokes that had everyone roaring with laughter. I found myself stealing glances at him, annoyed by how effortlessly he fit into the group dynamic. How could someone be so... comfortable in their own skin?

"You okay over there?" Walker's voice cut through my thoughts. He had somehow materialized in the seat next to mine, his blue eyes studying me.

"Fine," I said, perhaps too quickly. "Just... taking it all in."

He nodded, leaning back casually in his chair. "You don't do this kind of thing often, do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, my defenses rising.

"Hanging out. Relaxing. Not overthinking everything." His tone wasn't mocking, but it was annoyingly perceptive.

I bristled. "Just because I don't act like a carefree golden retriever doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun."

Walker chuckled, clearly unbothered by my jab. "Fair enough. Guess I'll have to see for myself."

Before I could respond, someone called his name, pulling him back into the center of the group. I exhaled, relieved to have him out of my immediate space but annoyed at how much his words lingered.

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As the night wore on, the group started to thin out. A few people left for early call times the next morning, while others lingered around the patio, sipping drinks and sharing stories.

I found myself relaxing a little despite my initial resistance. Maybe it was the atmosphere, or maybe it was the way Walker's energy seemed to fill the space without demanding attention.

At one point, he returned to my side, holding out a glass of something that looked suspiciously like alchole. "Virgin rum and Coke," he said, grinning, Ugh virgin. "I figured you're not the type to break any rules."

I took the glass, narrowing my eyes at him. "You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe not," he admitted, sitting down. "But I'm good at reading people. And you're kind of an open book."

That made me laugh, a short, sharp sound. "An open book? You have no idea how wrong you are."

He tilted his head, considering me. "Okay, then. What's the last thing you did just for fun? No cameras, no scripts, no expectations."

I froze. The truth was I couldn't tell him, if I told him and he told anyone about the real me then it would be over for me.

"Exactly," Walker said, his voice softer now. "You've got to give yourself a break, Ava. You're allowed to be a person, not just a perfect actor."

I hated how his words hit a nerve, like he'd found a crack in my carefully constructed armor. "You don't get it," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "You've got this whole laid-back thing going for you. You can afford to mess up. I can't."

Walker frowned, leaning forward. "Why not?"

"Because people expect me to be perfect. If I'm not, they'll find someone else who is."

For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, he shook his head. "That sounds exhausting."

"It is," I admitted quietly.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, a flash of light caught my attention. I turned to see someone pointing a phone in our direction.

Paparazzi.

My stomach sank.

"Great," I muttered, standing up. "Just what I need."

Walker followed my gaze, his expression hardening. "Ignore them. They're just trying to get a reaction."

But it was too late. The moment was ruined. I mumbled a quick excuse about needing to leave and walked out of the restaurant without looking back.

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The next morning, the headlines were everywhere. Pictures of Walker and me sitting close, laughing together, had been plastered across gossip sites with captions speculating about a budding romance.

My phone buzzed non-stop with texts from my publicist, my manager, and even my mom.

I groaned, tossing the phone onto my hotel bed. This was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid.

A knock on the door startled me. I opened it to find Walker standing there, holding two to-go cups of coffee.

"Figured you'd need this," he said, holding one out to me.

I stared at him, unsure whether to be grateful or annoyed. "Why are you here?"

"Because I know what it's like," he said simply. "And because I don't think you should have to deal with it alone."

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten. I took the coffee, mumbling a quiet thanks. Maybe Walker wasn't so bad after all. But that didn't mean I had to let him in. Not completely.

"I don't like straight coffee," I say giving him a bland look "I'm more of a ice coffee girl"

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