The First Test

"We were keeping things quiet," Nathaniel said smoothly, filling the silence before it could stretch too long. "New relationship, or new enough that we didn't want to make a production out of it before we were ready."

"How considerate," Priya said, her tone giving nothing away. Her gaze slid back to Everly, sharpening just slightly, like a hunter catching a scent. "And where exactly did the two of you meet?"

"We're neighbors," Everly said, sticking to the truth where she could, grateful her voice came out steadier than she felt. "Been living next to each other for over a year."

"How romantic. Right under everyone's nose the whole time." Priya's smile didn't waver, but something behind her eyes stayed watchful, cataloguing.

Dinner was announced before the conversation could go further, and Everly felt her shoulders drop half an inch in relief as they moved toward the dining room, Nathaniel's hand staying at her back the entire way. Diane peppered her with questions through the first two courses, her job, her family, her intentions, each one answered as honestly as Everly dared while keeping the fictional timeline intact.

It was over the third course that Priya set down her wine glass with a soft, deliberate click.

"I have to say," Priya said, her eyes fixed on Everly with a smile that didn't quite reach her voice, "it's fascinating that a couple who's supposedly been together for six months has never once posted a single photo together. Not one. I checked before I came tonight."

The table went quiet. Diane's fork paused halfway to her mouth. Nathaniel's hand went still against Everly's back, and for one long second Everly's mind went completely blank, every rehearsed detail from the car ride evaporating under the weight of Priya's stare.

Then Nathaniel laughed, easy and warm, like the question was nothing at all. "That's because Everly hates being tagged online. She's not exactly thrilled about her face being all over social media. I've learned to respect that."

"Is that so." Priya's gaze didn't leave Everly, waiting.

"Guilty," Everly said, forcing a small laugh of her own. "I got doxxed once after a work thing went semi-viral. Ever since, I keep my life fairly private. Nathaniel's actually been really understanding about it."

It wasn't even a full lie. The story belonged to a coworker from two jobs ago, but the memory was vivid enough that she could borrow the details without stumbling.

Diane made a sympathetic noise, reaching over to pat Everly's hand. "Well, I think that's very wise, dear. Too many young people put everything online these days."

Priya's jaw tightened, the first genuine crack in her composure all evening. "Of course. Privacy is important." She picked her glass back up, though Everly noticed she didn't drink from it. "I just find the timing interesting, that's all. A relationship nobody's heard about, surfacing right as your parents started discussing our engagement."

"Priya." Diane's voice carried a note of warning.

"I'm only saying what everyone at this table is thinking." Priya's mask slid back into place, smooth and unreadable. "But I'm sure it's exactly as it looks. Nathaniel wouldn't lie to his own mother."

The word lie landed heavier than it should have, and Everly felt Nathaniel's fingers tighten around hers beneath the table.

"I wouldn't," Nathaniel said, his voice quietly firm. "Everly's important to me. I wasn't hiding that from anyone, I just wasn't ready to make it a production."

Diane's expression softened, something almost hopeful crossing her face as she looked between them. "Well, I for one am glad you've finally brought her around. It's about time this house had some good news in it."

The rest of dinner passed without incident, though Everly could feel Priya's gaze on her through dessert, sharp and considering, cataloguing every detail for later use. By the time Robert walked them to the door, Everly's face ached from smiling, and her hand was still faintly warm from where Nathaniel had held it through most of the meal.

They didn't speak again until they were both in the car, the porch light throwing long shadows across the windshield.

"That," Everly said, exhaling for what felt like the first time in an hour, "was terrifying."

"You were incredible." Nathaniel started the car but didn't pull out of the driveway right away, turning to look at her instead, something like relief and admiration crossing his face. "The doxxing story. Where did you even pull that from on the spot?"

"Borrowed it from a coworker. Don't tell anyone."

He laughed, real and unguarded, and the sound did something strange to her chest that she immediately tried to ignore. "Your secret's safe with me. Though I have to say, Priya's not going to let this go. That was her testing the waters. She's going to dig."

"Great. Love that for us."

"I'm serious, Everly." His humor faded, replaced by something more careful. "If she starts asking around, checking old photos, talking to people who know us, this could unravel fast. We need the story locked down tighter than we had it tonight. Every detail, rehearsed until neither of us hesitates."

"So basically, we need to date for real. Just to get the details right."

"Basically, yes," he said, and something in the way he said it made the words land differently than either of them probably intended.

Everly leaned her head back against the seat, watching him in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. "Fine. Let's build the world's most convincing fake relationship. Starting with an actual trip to Rossi's, since apparently we're supposed to have gone there for our first date."

"Tomorrow night," Nathaniel said, an edge of something eager creeping into his voice despite the exhaustion of the evening. "Not for the act. Just so if anyone asks, we're not lying about details we've never actually experienced."

"That sounds like a real date, Nathaniel."

"It sounds like research," he corrected, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he knew exactly how thin that excuse was.

She should have said no. She should have reminded him, and herself, of the rules she'd laid out four nights ago, no blurring lines, a month and out. But there was something about the hopeful, careful way he was watching her that made the refusal die somewhere in her throat.

"Fine," she said instead. "Research."

His smile widened as he finally pulled the car out of the driveway, the porch light shrinking in the rearview mirror behind them. Neither of them noticed the curtain in the upstairs window shift, or the figure standing just behind it, phone already raised, typing a message to someone who would be very interested in exactly what she'd witnessed downstairs that evening.