Chapter 1- The Fake That Felt Too Real

I slammed the front door behind me, my heart still racing from another one of Mom’s lectures. The words echoed in my head like they always did. You’re not getting any younger, Evie. Men don’t wait forever. Look at what happened to me.

She meant well. I knew that. But it still felt like a rope tightening around my neck.

I was twenty-six, not exactly ancient, but in Mom’s world that was basically expired. She’d married Dad at twenty-seven, had me at twenty- eight, and watched him walk out when I was six. Six years of marriage, then nothing. Now she spent her days worrying I’d end up scrolling dating apps at thirty, begging for scraps of attention. So she pushed. Hard.

That night I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my phone and texted Alex.

You free? We need to talk. It's urgent.

His reply came in seconds. Always. My place or yours?

Yours.

I drove over with the windows down, letting the cool evening air slap some sense into me. Alex had been my best friend since high school. The kind of guy who remembered my coffee order, showed up when my car broke down, and never made things weird. Or so I thought.

He opened the door before I even knocked, wearing that faded black hoodie I always teased him about. His hair was messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times.

“Evie? You look stressed. What’s up?” he asked, stepping aside so I could come in.

I dropped onto his couch, pulling my knees up. “Mom’s at it again. Full force. She keeps showing me profiles of her friends’ sons, talking about how I need to settle down before I ‘miss my window.’ It’s exhausting, Alex. I just want her off my back for a while.”

He sat across from me, elbows on his knees, listening like he always did. His eyes were steady, brown and warm. Safe.

I took a deep breath. “What if… we pretended to date? Just for a bit. Long enough for her to think I’m off the market. No pressure, no real commitment. We hang out, post a couple pictures, and sell the story. Then in a few months we ‘break up’ quietly. Please?”

The silence stretched for a second. I watched his face, expecting him to laugh or tell me I was crazy.

Instead he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“For you? Yeah.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Whatever you need.”

That was seven months ago.

Seven months of fake dates that felt suspiciously easy. Seven months of Mom’s face lighting up every time Alex came over for dinner. Seven months of holding hands in public, laughing at inside jokes, and me telling myself it was all pretend.

Tonight was another performance. We’d gone to Mom’s place for Sunday dinner. Alex played my fiance 's part perfectly, complimenting her cooking, talking about work like he was planning a future, even squeezing my hand under the table when Mom started hinting about rings and marriage.

“You two are so good together,” Mom had said, eyes misty. “Any idea when you plan to make this official?”

I’d forced a smile. Alex had chuckled and said something smooth about taking things one step at a time. On the drive back, the car felt too quiet.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing over.

“Yeah. Just tired of acting.”

He didn’t reply right away. His fingers tapped the steering wheel. We were supposed to head straight to my apartment, but he pulled off onto a quiet side road near the park, killing the engine. The sudden silence made my stomach flip.

“Alex? What are we doing?”

“I need to talk to you.” His voice was low, different. He turned to face me. The dashboard lights caught the sharp line of his jaw. “Evie… this fake thing. It’s got me thinking deeply."

Before I could process that, he leaned across the console and kissed me.

It wasn’t the quick peck we sometimes did for show. This was real. Warm lips, urgent, like he’d been holding back for years. For a second I froze, then kissed him back, instinct, confusion, maybe something else. His hand cupped my cheek, and it felt… nice. Too nice.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, breathing hard. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. Since high school, actually. I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose you. But these past months? Pretending? It’s not pretend for me anymore.”

My mind spun. “Alex… what?”

“I love you, Evie. I’ve always loved you.” His hand slid down to my shoulder, then lower. “Let me show you. Please.”

He kissed me again, deeper this time, and his fingers tugged at the hem of my shirt. The seatbelt buckle dug into my side as he tried to pull me closer. Alarm bells rang loud in my head.

“Whoa, Alex, stop.” I pushed against his chest. He didn’t move right away. His breath was hot on my neck.

“Come on, Evie. We’ve been doing this dance for months. You feel it too, don’t you? The way your mom looks at us. It could be real. We could make it real right now.”

His hand moved under my shirt, cold against my skin. I shoved harder. “I said stop!”

He paused, eyes dark. “Why? We’re good together. Your mom wants this. I want this. Stop fighting it.”

I fumbled for the door handle, heart hammering. “This isn’t what we agreed to. This is meant to be fake, remember? Fake!”

“It stopped being fake the moment you asked me,” he said, voice cracking. “I thought if I played along, you’d see me. Really see me. Not just as the safe best friend.”

His hand tightened on my waist, pulling me across the console. The seatbelt dug into my ribs. I pushed harder, but he leaned in again, his mouth crashing against mine roughly, his other hand sliding up my thigh, gripping too tight.

“Alex, stop! Get off me!”

He didn’t listen. His breathing grew heavy as he tried to climb over, pinning me against the seat. “Just let me show you, Evie. Please—”