Can't Fake The Feeling Novels & Stories

Students passing. Laughing. Talking. Normal. Everything looked normal. But something felt off. It wasn’t about him pulling me in. Or pushing me away. It was the space. The distance. The fact that he wouldn’t be there. And somehow— That bothered me more than it should have. I exhaled slowly. “This is ridiculous.” It was fake. It was all fake. So why did it feel like I was losing something?

“That works for me. I don’t want to make your life harder, Ariana. I promise.” I studied him for a moment. He looked tired. Not the golden boy everyone saw on the ice, but someone carrying too much. For a second, I felt a strange flicker of comfort sitting here with him. Like I could actually talk without pretending. I pushed the feeling away. “One more thing. No feelings, at all. This is fake. Completely fake.” He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on mine a little longer than necessary. “Completely fake,” he repeated quietly.

Staring at Talon did nothing but remind me of the nightmare I wanted so badly to forget. Talon glanced at me. I could tell he could see right through the lie. “You’re not. And it’s okay.” “I feel like if I keep saying that I’m fine, it might actually be.” Then I added, “Fake it till you make it, yeah.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t work on me, and it isn’t healthy. It’s okay to feel.” “I called you here as a friend, not a therapist.” I reminded him and he shrugged.

It’s so dark, but because of the light coming from the moon, I can see how beautiful this place is. “Mom, Dad, I’m okay. I will be okay. Maybe I should do my part, right? I’m just his fake wife, nothing more.” I looked up at the sky, trying to touch the stars, but I knew I couldn’t, just like how I wouldn’t be able to reach Marcus. I shouldn’t have felt this way. What we have is all just fake. Fake marriage, fake treatment. I should stop this. I don’t want to reach the moment I will be on my knees, begging him to love me.

They felt so real. InternetRealityCheck: [I feel bad for the person above. Don't be naive. They're both acting. Look at Isolde's stream next door. She's practically rolling around with the fitness coach, and her heart rate is over 160 too. This fake couple doesn't have a single sincere moment.] ChampagneTonight: [Fake is fake. The moment they put on heart rate monitors and face a real test, their true colors show. You ship Isolde and Bruce? What a joke.]

I don't waste words on him. He huffs and lifts me up from the floor. He presses me tight under his chin as his arms constrict around me. His heart races at my proximity. Subconsciously he strokes my arm with his finger as we go wherever. I'm still wrapped in the blanket and have yet to look out. I force my heart to slow, focusing on my disgust instead. I won't allow soft touches to sway me. His head nuzzles the top of mine, and I tuck my head as far down as I can. I hear his lips against the blanket. I swallow a whimper and steady my breathing. I will not cry. I will show no reaction to him. I will fake it until I really feel nothing for him. Still my lip wobbles and I nesrly bite the blood

Anyone else would do the same. I just had to remember none of this was real. The passion, the lust, the connection—all of it was fake. When the moment came, I would have to forget all those feelings and pull the trigger. But for now, I couldn’t resist. “Fuck me, baby.”

The tried again. I spontaneously started wondering what she means by ‘real' party. I didn’t know we had any fake parties. “In short, I expected more than the deafening music, awkward smiles and the enigmatic foolishness. It is a bit overwhelming.” “So you are allergic to happiness.” “I guess so, if you consider the fake smiles and forced behaviours happiness.” I, once again, raise my thin brows excited. “finally, a real life dementeur!” I shriek under my breath to avoid her from hearing, but she did.

Instead, she turned and walked up the porch steps, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding like I’d just sprinted a mile uphill. And all I could think was — If pretending feels this real… What the hell happens when it’s over?

He said that definitely hadn't been fake. I looked down because I couldn't survive watching his face while admitting the truth. I'd been hiding behind the same word. Fake had become useful whenever my feelings scared me. It gave me somewhere to put every moment I couldn't explain. The jealousy. Missing him. Looking for him. Wanting him at the championship. The clinic. The empty seat. The kiss I'd wanted before he'd even moved toward me. I told Luca my reactions hadn't been fake either. Nothing happened after that.