All Chapters of Fake To Fall : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

LakeThe air inside the rustic cooking cabin buzzed with playful energy. It was the mid-point of the couple's retreat, and tensions—both sexual and emotional—were simmering hotter than the cast iron skillets. Today’s challenge? A couples cooking class where every pair had to whip up a signature three-course dish for the judges, who were apparently the grinning, nosy hosts of the entire program.Ivy tied her apron behind her back, fingers trembling slightly—not from nerves over cooking, but from the sizzling pressure of being paired with Lake again after last night’s emotionally messy, skin-tingling spooning situation.Except fate had other plans.“Everyone, to keep things spicy,” their hostess chirped, clapping her hands, “we’re swapping partners for this challenge. Time to see how well your chemistry holds up under heat!”A murmur of surprise rippled through the couples. Ivy blinked, looking toward Lake. He looked… not pleased.She was assigned to Jeremy.Jeremy—tan, confident, model

LakeIt started with spilled coffee.Well, technically, it started with Lake teasing her about almost kissing him again during last night’s truth-or-dare fiasco. The group had been tipsy on cheap wine and mischief, and someone thought it would be hilarious to dare Ivy to kiss him. Again.She hadn’t, not fully—but it was close enough that everyone gasped and laughed and started chanting their names like they were the evening’s main event. She’d laughed it off then, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing with denial. But now, in the pale light of morning, the whole thing felt heavier—like something had shifted overnight.Lake leaned against the kitchen counter, shirt half-buttoned, hair a mess that looked infuriatingly good on him. “Another ‘fake’ kiss,” he said with that familiar smirk, handing her a mug of too-hot espresso.The coffee promptly sloshed over the rim and scalded her fingers.“Damn it, Lake!” Ivy hissed, jerking back. The mug clattered onto the counter, brown liquid spreading l

LakeThe cabin was silent except for the rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional chirp of a cricket outside. Ivy lay curled up on the couch, a blanket draped loosely over her. The day’s exercises had exhausted her. The massage class, the tension, the accidental moans—she needed rest.Lake, however, couldn’t sleep.He sat by the window, camera in hand, flipping through footage from earlier in the day. Most of it was blurry nonsense or retreat documentation, but there was one segment that caught his attention: a quiet moment he had accidentally filmed of Ivy sitting alone in the garden that morning, talking to herself. No audience. No pretenses.She had whispered dreams. Real ones.“I think I’m scared to be seen,” her voice said in the footage. “Not the polished version. The messy parts. The parts even I try to ignore.”Lake stared at the screen.He should delete it.But instead, he pressed play again.Later that night, when she shifted in her sleep, mumbling, her lips curlin

LakeThe night air was thick with the kind of buzz that only good wine, firelight, and too many suppressed emotions could create. The retreat had hosted a bonfire-themed open mic night, encouraging couples to share poems, songs, or embarrassing stories. Ivy hadn’t participated—she was too focused on the way Lake’s eyes had followed her all evening like he was trying to solve her.When the flames dwindled and couples peeled off toward their cabins, Ivy and Lake remained. Still seated on the log they’d claimed hours earlier, still sipping the last of the red wine Lake had snagged from the drinks table.“I can’t feel my face,” Ivy said with a giggle, the wine finally warming her to total honesty.Lake chuckled, a slow, lazy sound that made her chest do strange things. “Yeah, I’m starting to think this was not ‘retreat approved’ alcohol. I feel like my face is doing jazz hands.”She laughed. And then there was silence. Not awkward. Just… suspended.“Let’s not go back to the cabin yet,” sh

IvyThe retreat’s annual Fall Festival was like stepping into a Pinterest board—vibrant autumn leaves everywhere, string lights twinkling overhead, booths with apple cider and caramel corn, couples laughing over pumpkin painting and three-legged races. It was disgustingly adorable. And Ivy, somehow, was the queen of it all.Or at least that’s how it felt.She wore a cream-colored knit sweater dress with tall boots, her curls wild and frizzed from the breeze, cheeks pink from the crisp air. Lake hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she stepped out of their cabin that morning. And she noticed.The festival was also the final couple contest of the retreat—a kiss-off. Couples were tasked with delivering the most authentic, chemistry-packed kiss in front of the judges and retreat guests. Yes, it was cheesy. Yes, Ivy wanted to die. But with $50,000 and reputations on the line, there was no backing out.She and Lake stood in the queue of couples, hands linked. His thumb traced slow, distracti