02

The bell above the door tinkled softly as Layla stepped into Sage & Quill Bookstore, its warm lamplight and the faint scent of old paper wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. She’d come here to escape—away from her messy apartment, away from Derek, and even away from the chaos of the city streets. Layla reached for a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights, her fingers brushing the spine just as another hand reached for the same book.

She looked up, startled.

Ethan.

Of course. Layla’s heart stuttered. Of all the places — she never expected to bump into him again so soon. He looked just as casually disheveled as he had in the coffee shop—plain black hoodie, dark jeans, sleeves pushed to his elbows. His hair was a little messy, and his expression was that same unreadable mix of curiosity and calm.

“Oh,” Layla said, stepping back quickly, the book slipping from her fingers. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

“You take it,” Ethan said, offering her the novel.

“No, it’s fine. You were here first.”

They both stared at the book for a beat, then laughed awkwardly. Layla cleared her throat, suddenly remembering every humiliating detail of their last encounter—especially the part where she’d yanked his arm and told her smug, tailored ex-boyfriend he was her new boyfriend.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Ethan set the thriller aside and stepped forward. “I didn’t expect to see you.” He sounded amused, but the warmth in his tone chased away any lingering awkwardness.

She cleared her throat. “Me neither. This is my favorite bookstore. I come here when I need... peace.” She gestured vaguely at the tall shelves, the quiet corners, the old leather armchairs.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, glancing around. “It’s nice.” He winked. Ethan walked closer and tilted his head. “So... was that guy really your ex?”

Layla nodded, closing the poetry book. “Yeah. Derek. We dated for three years. Broke up six months ago. He moved out of town. I thought he was gone for good.”

"And now?"

She sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of the shelf. “Apparently, he’s in town for a few weeks. He’s consulting on some tech project. And of course, he had to show up at our coffee shop while I was dressed like roadkill.”

Ethan smirked. “I thought you looked... creatively disheveled.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Flattery noted. But the moment I saw him, I panicked. And then you were just... there.”

"Wrong place, right time, I guess," Ethan said, his tone light. “For the record, I think we made a convincing couple.”

Layla blushed. “Well, thanks for going along with it.”

Ethan waved off her apology. “It was entertaining.” He paused, studying her. “Are you okay, though? Really okay?”

Layla sighed and dropped onto a nearby stool at a small reading table, patting the seat beside her. Ethan sat. She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m... managing,” she said, forcing a small smile.

Ethan’s brow furrowed. “So, Derek? he’s going to keep showing up?”

“He’s probably going to show up here too,” she muttered. “This place was on our ‘favorites’ list.”

“Guess I’m lucky I got in before the ex-boyfriend invasion.”

Layla looked up at him thoughtfully. “You were really good back there. Most guys would’ve frozen or just walked away. But you… you played along like it wasn’t weird at all.”

Ethan sipped his coffee. “Maybe I have a hidden talent.”

“Do you… do you always say yes when women randomly declare you as their boyfriend?”

He chuckled. “Only if they look as panicked as you did.”

Layla gave a sheepish smile. “It’s just… Derek made me feel like crap for so long. I didn’t want him thinking I was still pining or something.”

Ethan raised a brow. “Are you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Still pining.”

She hesitated. “Not… in that way. It’s complicated.”

Ethan nodded like he understood, even if he didn’t say anything. The silence between them was comfortable for a few moments. He finally leaned back and tapped his fingers against the cup. “Well, you’re not the only one with a complicated family situation.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“My brother’s wedding is next weekend,” Ethan said. “And my mom’s been on a matchmaking spree ever since she found out I’m still single.

“Oh no,” she said, eyes widening. “That sounds… intense.”

“You have no idea,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “She’s got binders. Like actual binders. With profiles of ‘eligible ladies.’”

Layla laughed. “You’re joking.”

“I wish.” He said. “She’s relentless. And honestly, I don’t have the energy to smile through another blind date with someone named Brittany who only talks about her cactus collection.”

Layla tried not to laugh but failed. “Cactus collection?”

“It was intense,” he deadpanned.

Layla felt sympathy for him—his mother’s matchmaking sounded brutally persistent. “That sucks.”

“Which brings me back to you.” He met her gaze. “What if we kept pretending? Just for a little while.”

She stared at him. “Kept... pretending?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward. “You know, you and me. A fake couple. I need someone to get my mom off my back for the wedding. And you want Derek to think you’re doing great, right?”

She looked at him carefully. “You’re not joking.”

“Nope,” he replied, smiling. “This could be mutually beneficial.”

Layla bit her lip, her mind spinning. “You do realize how ridiculous this sounds?”

“Absolutely. That’s part of the charm.”

Layla’s mind raced. It sounded insane—and brilliant. “But won’t it get messy?”

He shrugged. “Only if we let it. We set ground rules. Keep it casual. No real expectations.”

Her breath caught. “You’re serious?”

Ethan held up a finger. “Dead serious.” He sat up straight, dropping his voice. “We do a few staged dates, post photos, hold hands in public. You make Derek jealous. I make Mom think I’m happy.”

She eyed him carefully. “That’s a lot of acting.”

Ethan grinned. “I’ve had practice.”

She took a deep breath, thinking of Derek’s smug face, and of her own bruised pride. “Okay,” she said finally. “And when Derek leaves town, or your brother gets married—we end it.”

Ethan stared at her for another moment, then nodded. “Deal.”