Cheers To Fake Relationships

The ride back home was quiet, Melody kept looking out the window, her fingers fiddling with the edge of Tara’s borrowed purse. Logan kept stealing glances at her like he was trying not to stare too long. Like she was made of something delicate and dangerous at the same time.

When his car pulled up in front of her apartment building the slightly peeling brownstone, he put the car in park and turned to her.

“Melody…” he started, his voice low and surprisingly soft.

She held the purse closer. “Yes?”

“I just want to say… thank you.” His eyes were steady when they met hers. “Really. Thank you for agreeing to do this for me.”

She blinked. “Oh, you don’t have to thank me. You’re paying for my services, remember?” She tried to joke because seriousness made her chest tight.

“I know,” he said, his lips curving slightly. “But still you barely know me. And you’re willing to help. I want you to know I appreciate that more than you think.”

She smiled. The kind she wasn’t expecting. “You’re welcome, Logan.”

He nodded once, exhaling. It looked like relief. Or maybe nervousness. Maybe both.

“So…” she leaned a little closer, lowering her voice. “When do I get my money?”

He laughed, an honest laugh that made the air feel lighter. “When you sign the contract. Then the transfer goes straight to your account.”

She raised a brow. “Wait, you’re sending the money before I even do anything?”

“Yes.”

“You trust me that much?”

He tilted his head, squinting at her playfully. “Do I really need to trust you? You’re signing a contract. If you run away, you’ll get arrested.”

She burst into laughter, covering her mouth. “Oh. So that’s how it is?”

“That’s exactly how it is,” he said in a mock serious tone.

“Now I think I’m stuck,” she teased.

“You’re not stuck,” he said. “Just… take your time. Read everything first. If you think you can do it, sign. If not, it’s okay. I’m grateful you’re even considering it.”

She swallowed the truth she wanted to say that she needed the money. Desperately. That she had no real choice. Her pastry shop was slipping through her fingers, her family needed help back home, and she couldn’t keep sleeping in a borrowed space forever.

Instead, she nodded quietly.

“Well,” she said, touching the door handle. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight, Melody.”

She stepped out, closing the door gently behind her. And as she walked toward the building, she felt his gaze on her warm, curious, unreadable.

……….

The moment Melody opened the door, Tara practically pounced on her, barefoot, wearing mismatched pajamas, her bonnet halfway off her head like she’d been pacing for hours.

“Oh my God, oh my God, start talking!” Tara grabbed her by both hands dramatically. “Okay, talk. What happened? How was he? Was he nice? Oh my God, did he smell good? Wait, of course he smelled good. Did he kiss you? Did y’all hug? Did he look at you like you were the last slice of chocolate cake?”

Melody blinked, then burst into laughter. “Tara… breathe.”

Tara inhaled aggressively.

Melody narrowed her eyes. “Not like you’re hyperventilating.”

“Okay, fine. I’m breathing normally. Now speak, woman!”

Melody dropped the purse on the nearest couch and kicked off her shoes. “The date was nice.”

Tara made a disgusted face. “You don’t go on a date with that fine man and come back with words like ‘nice.’ Be serious.”

“Okay,” Melody amended, giggling. “It was really nice. The restaurant was great. The food was good…” She paused, eyes widening. “But it was so freaking expensive, Tara. Like why would anyone willingly spend that much on food?”

“That’s what happens when you go out with wealthy men,” Tara said with her hands on her hips. “He’s got the money.”

“I swear I saw the price once and felt my soul leave my body.”

“That’s because you don’t have the money. If you had the money, you would spend the money.”

Melody snorted. “I don’t think I would spend money on food. Not that kind.”

Tara waved her off. “Okay, Miss Humble Pie. Did you guys kiss?”

“Shut up already. Guess what?”

“What?”

“He offered me a job.” Her eyes glowed as she talked.

“Oh my goodness Lord. He owns a restaurant and you're now the new chief cook?”

Melody shook her head.

“Oh! Oh! He has a friend who owns a bakery and wants you to work there?” Tara asked, eyes gleaming.

“No.”

“He wants to hire you as an accountant?”

Melody laughed. “Girl, you know I hate numbers.”

“Okay, then what job? Stop giving me suspense induced hypertension.”

Melody cleared her throat. “He wants me to act as his girlfriend.”

Silence.

Silence so loud it was comedic.

Then Tara gasped. “No. No way. No freaking way. Like… pretend girlfriend? For real?”

“Yes.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes.”

Tara staggered back like she’d been stabbed. “You said whar? Melody! You barely know this guy!”

“I know,” Melody shrugged. “But… he’s paying me two hundred thousand dollars.”

Tara’s mouth dropped open. No sound came out.

“Two whole hundred thousand? Real dollars? As in USD? Actual American money??”

“Yes.”

“For what? Pretend kissing? Fake hand holding? Breathing near him?”

“Yes.”

“Girl.” Tara placed a hand on her chest. “Do you know how many organs I would donate for $200,000? Do you? Because I will donate everything except my brain. That one is needed for drama.”

Melody burst into laughter. “Funny how you switched sides when you heard the money.”

“You don’t understand,” Tara said, pacing dramatically. “This is New York City. We sing one anthem here.” She wiggled her fingers like a magician. “It’s all about. The moneyyyyy.”

Melody was laughing so hard she leaned onto the wall.

“Okay, I have questions,” Tara said, suddenly serious. “When do you start acting? Do you have to move in? Do you start pretending to love him tomorrow? Do you need to practice holding hands? The people need answers!”

Melody wiped tears from her eyes. “No. He’s sending the contract tomorrow morning. Once I sign and the money drops…”

“HALLELUJAH!”

“I just chill until Christmas. Then we travel to his parents’ house.”

Tara sank onto the couch dramatically like she was overwhelmed with life. “Does he have a friend who also needs an actress for Christmas? Because I am available. I can cry on command. I can look shy. I can look innocent. I am a full package.”

Melody shook her head. “I don’t know, Tara. I’ll ask.”

“Please do.” Tara clutched the throw pillow to her chest. “Because if you come back with another rich man opportunity that I can join? Girl, I will faint from joy.”

They both burst out laughing again.

“Wow,” Tara said softly after a moment. “Two hundred thousand dollars. That’s life changing money.”

“I know.” Melody’s voice cracked without meaning to.

Tara noticed.

She moved closer and nudged her shoulder gently. “Hey. You okay?”

Melody stared at the floor. “I… I didn’t want to tell him I didn’t have a choice. That I need the money that badly. That my family is depending on me…”

Tara’s playful expression softened completely. “Melody.”

“It’s just… I feel like this is all too fast, you know?” Melody whispered. “But I need the money. And I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s just acting.”

Tara pulled her into a hug. “Baby, listen to me. This isn’t desperation. It’s survival. And you’re doing it with dignity. And if anyone deserves a miracle? It’s you.”

Melody swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“Also,” Tara added, pulling back with a smirk, “if your fake boyfriend looks at you the way he looked at you when he picked you up earlier? Then this holiday is about to be very christmasy.”

Melody shoved her playfully. “Stop!”

“Never.” Then Tara jumped up suddenly. “We’re celebrating.”

Melody blinked. “Celebrating what?”

“Girl, we’re celebrating your two-hundred-thousand-dollar Christmas miracle!” Tara swung open the fridge dramatically. “Where is my cheap dollar-store wine?”

Melody groaned. “Tara, that wine tastes like regret.”

“It tastes like an opportunity tonight!” Tara grabbed the bottle triumphantly.

They popped it open well, unscrewed the cap and Melody grabbed the bottle straight from Tara, taking a long swig.

“Cheers to fake relationships,” Melody said.

“And real money,” Tara added, clinking her imaginary glass against the bottle.