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i'd been secretly talking to his assistant for a week.
if i was going to pull this off right, i needed details—what studio gate would get me closest, what time he usually grabs lunch, how to avoid getting tackled by security.
she was into it immediately. "this is the most fun i've had all month," she texted me. "don't tell him i helped. he'll pretend to be mad but secretly love it."
so i booked the flight. red-eye. middle seat. no legroom.
i landed in la at 6:13am, did a half-decent job fixing my hair in the airport bathroom, bought a coffee i didn't even want, and ubered to the studio with my heart thudding like it was trying to climb out of my chest.
the plan was simple: facetime him. flip the camera. watch him malfunction.
but standing outside the building—heart pounding, breath catching in my throat—this didn't feel like a plan anymore. it felt like a moment that could change everything.
the last few weeks had been a complete whirlwind.
one minute, we were just texting. the next, we were falling asleep on facetime. i'd wake up to good morning texts, and sometimes he'd send me pictures of things that made him think of me—a dog in a sweater, a sunset, a dumb inside joke we came up with at 3am. but my favorite were the random voice notes, saying things like, "i wish you were here right now."
so now, standing on the same pavement he probably walked every day, all that digital space between us disappeared.
and it hit me, all at once: this wasn't just a visit. this was real now.
i hit facetime.
he picked up fast, maybe two rings.
"hey, you," he said, smiling instantly. he looked stupid good. tousled hair, hoodie, low light behind him. "you're up early. or did you never sleep?"
i smiled. "maybe i just missed your face."
"yeah?" he leaned closer to the camera. "consider me flattered."
i felt a rush of nerves crawl up my spine. my fingers hovered over the camera button. "okay...quick question."
"shoot."
i flipped the camera.
the studio logo came into view behind me, bold and unmistakable. trailers lined up. a crew member passing by with a walkie clipped to his belt.
"you wouldn't happen to know where i could find a tall, hot guy named drew starkey around here, would you?"
i flipped the camera back to my face.
his mouth was parted. eyes wide. the kind of look people probably described as starstruck, except it was aimed at me.
