chapter 5

Ethan’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, the sharp ping of a dating app notification breaking through the quiet as he finished washing his coffee mug. He froze, water dripping from his fingers, before reaching for the screen. A match. Zoe. Her profile picture was cute, bright eyes and a crooked smile. The kind of girl he would've considered before Layla tangled her way into his life with Post-it notes and sarcasm.

He stared at the screen, thumb hovering. This wasn’t a betrayal. It wasn’t even real. He and Layla weren’t real. Just a well-choreographed lie for mutual benefit. Right?

So he typed back: "Hey, Zoe. Nice to meet you."

---

The rooftop event was too trendy for Ethan's taste. Fairy lights zigzagged above the crowd, indie music thumped softly under the buzz of conversation, and people held cocktail glasses like accessories. Layla thrived in it.

She wore a burnt orange jumpsuit with wide legs and a plunging neckline that made Ethan forget the safe things he normally thought around her. Her smile dazzled every circle they drifted through, and she introduced him like they were a couple who had shared Sunday brunches and N*****x passwords for years.

He played along with a hand on her waist, a whispered inside joke here and there. When someone asked how they met, Layla grinned and said, “Mutual trauma at a corporate retreat.”

They took a photo at sunset, Layla’s head tilted against Ethan's as they laughed at something no one else heard. She posted it to I*******m before he even realized.

No caption.

Just them.

Ten minutes later, Ethan checked the post. Derek had already liked it. His mom commented with heart emojis and a wedding GIF. He almost laughed. Almost.

That night, Layla lay in bed, lights off, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly. The rooftop event still buzzed in her ears, the memory of Ethan's hand on her waist lingering like a touch that hadn’t quite faded. Her chest felt too full.

Just for balance—just for grounding—she unlocked her phone and scrolled to Jay’s name.

Her thumb tapped out: "Hey."

Seconds ticked.

Then, the dots appeared.

Jay: "Miss me already?"

She smiled at the screen. Familiar. Easy. Predictable. But her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

The next day, Ethan dropped by to help her update her online portfolio. Layla had thrown together a brunch spread as a thank-you: scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice. She looked unusually domestic in an oversized sweatshirt and biker shorts, hair tossed into a lazy bun.

“You know,” Ethan said, opening her laptop, “you’re one of the few people I know whose desktop is more chaotic than mine.”

“Organized chaos,” she replied, tossing him a piece of toast. “You wouldn’t understand."

They sat cross-legged on the couch, thighs nearly touching, as Ethan worked through the glitch. His fingers moved quickly across the keys, occasionally brushing hers as she pointed something out.

Her phone buzzed.

Jay.

She saw the name and froze.

Incoming call.

Ethan glanced at her phone, then back to the screen. He said nothing, but the tension thickened.

Layla declined the call quickly, color rushing to her cheeks. She adjusted her posture and leaned in to study the screen. "Anyway, so here’s where it lags when I try to upload..."

Ethan didn’t push.

But he noticed.

After he left, Layla flopped onto the couch, staring at the ceiling again.

She texted Jay: "Busy. Talk later."

His reply came fast.

Jay: "Still pretending with your new guy?"

Layla stared at the message, her fingers tightening around the phone. It wasn’t that it was untrue. But it wasn’t his to say.

She typed. Deleted. Typed again.

Eventually, she sent nothing. She tossed the phone onto the couch, then buried her face in a pillow.

---

Ethan walked home in silence, hands in his jacket pockets. The fresh air cleared his head, but not his thoughts.

Zoe had replied.

He opened the app and read her message: “So, tell me about you. I’m a sucker for terrible first date stories.”

He smiled absently and then closed the app. He could reply later.

For now, all he could see was Layla’s startled face when that call came in, the way she fumbled to look normal again. Maybe this whole thing was messing with both of them more than they thought. And maybe, just maybe, fake wasn’t the same as harmless.

***

Ethan told himself it wasn’t a big deal.

It was just coffee.

That’s what he kept repeating as he stared at Anna's message on his phone for the third time in an hour.

"Hey stranger, I’m in the area! Want to grab coffee? No pressure."

Anna. He hadn’t spoken to Anna in over a month—not since before the whole fake-dating Layla thing started. They’d met through a dating app, gone out a few times. She was nice. Funny. Pretty. She liked strong coffee and hated pineapple on pizza. In another life, maybe he'd have given her an actual shot. But this wasn't another life.

He typed back before he could overthink it. "Sure. When?"

Her reply came almost instantly, like she’d been waiting. "Today? Noon? I know a little café on 8th Street."

8th Street. His stomach sank. That was dangerously close to the design studio where Layla liked to work on her client projects. But he told myself it wasn’t a big deal. He'd grab coffee, catch up for twenty minutes, and be gone before Layla even knew.

Except… he wasn’t sure why I was agreeing at all.

Maybe it was because the lines between “fake” and “real” with Layla were getting blurry. And Layla was supposed to be fake.

Supposed to be.

He ran a hand over his jaw and let out a slow breath. They’d been doing this “pretend” thing for weeks now—smiles at events, casual touches that were supposed to look effortless, inside jokes only they understood. But the problem was… some of it had stopped feeling like acting.

Which was exactly why he should say yes to Anna. Just to remind himself that his life, his options, and his sanity existed outside of Layla.

“Coffee’s harmless,” he muttered under his breath.

Harmless.

Sure.

---

By the time Ethan pushed open the door to the little corner café, Anna was already there, perched at a window seat, waving like they’d been old friends. She was exactly as he remembered from her profile—bright smile, stylish without trying too hard, and that easy confidence of someone who knew people looked when she walked in a room.

“Ethan!” she said, standing to hug him.

He smiled, returning it politely, keeping his hands light on her back. “Anna. Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too. I almost didn’t recognize you without the suit,” she teased.

He chuckled, sliding into the seat across from her. “Figured I’d give the coffee shop a break from boardroom energy.”

They talked. It was fine. Easy, even. Anna laughed at his dry jokes, and she was quick with stories of her own. But under the table, Ethan’s knee kept bouncing, restless. Every few minutes, his mind drifted—wondering what Layla was doing. Wondering why he cared.

---

Across town, Layla was having her own problem.

The last thing she expected that morning was to see Jay leaning casually against the counter of the café she’d chosen to work from. Laptop open, latte beside her, she’d been deep into a design mockup when his voice—smooth and self-satisfied—cut through her focus.

“Hey, stranger.”

Her head jerked up. “Jay?”

“Missed me?” He grinned, the same grin that had once charmed her into a disastrous rebound fling after her last breakup.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d stop by. Check in.” He glanced at her laptop screen. “Still doing your little design thing, huh?”

“It’s not ‘little.’ It’s my career.” She shut the laptop halfway, trying to make it clear this was not a social call.

Jay leaned on the table, lowering his voice like he was about to share a secret. “So… this new guy. Ethan, right?”

Layla’s stomach tightened. “What about him?”

Jay shrugged, smirking. “Just curious how long you plan to keep up the act.”

Her pulse jumped, but she kept her face neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. I can spot fake from a mile away. You and Ethan? It’s cute. Temporary, but cute.”

Before she could bite back, the bell above the door jingled—and the air in the café shifted.

Ethan walked in.

And he wasn’t alone.

Layla’s eyes went from Ethan… to the woman beside him. Tall, stunning, laughing at something he’d just said. The kind of laugh that hit Layla like static in her chest.

Ethan froze for a split second when he saw Jay sitting across from her. His gaze flicked from Jay to Layla, then to the subtle, cocky tilt of Jay’s smirk.

Anna followed his line of sight and smiled brightly. “Oh! Friends of yours?”

He didn’t answer, because he was already walking over.

He stopped beside her table, looking from Jay to Layla like he was mentally trying to rearrange the seating chart. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, voice just a shade too casual.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” she shot back, her tone mirroring his.

Ethan moved closer, instinctively resting an arm along the back of Layla’s chair—territorial, protective. Too natural to be entirely fake.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “So, Ethan, right?”

“And you are the infamous Jay?” Ethan asked, his voice calm but edged.

“That's me." He said with a smirk on his lips. "Old friend.”

Layla, refusing to let Jay win whatever silent competition was happening, leaned slightly into Ethan’s side. Her shoulder brushed his, her hand settling casually on his knee. “Very old.”

Anna glanced between them, completely oblivious to the tension. “Well, this is… cozy.”

She sipped her coffee like she was waiting for someone to explain the rules.

The next few minutes were a blur of forced small talk and unspoken words. Jay made little jabs about Ethan’s “business type,” Anna laughed a bit too freely at Ethan’s comments, and Layla smiled just enough to make Jay think she was unbothered.

Under the table, Ethan’s hand found hers. Not a romantic lace of fingers—just a firm grip. A silent message: I’m here. Don’t let him get to you.

She didn’t pull away.

---

The car ride was silent—except for the sound of Ethan gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

Halfway to her place, he finally spoke. “So… you and Jay?”

Layla kept her eyes on the passing streets. “So… you and Zoe?”

His jaw worked. “It’s not—”

“Neither is mine,” she interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended.

They didn’t say another word the rest of the drive, but the air between them was electric—buzzing with something they weren’t ready to admit, but couldn’t quite ignore anymore.