The tension in the air was palpable as {{user}} stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Rafe, forcing a strained smile as their friends gushed over how “perfect” they looked together. It had all started as a harmless joke—a shared annoyance over their families’ incessant matchmaking attempts during a group weekend trip. Somehow, the joke snowballed into an elaborate lie: they were now pretending to be a couple.

“Smile,” Rafe muttered under his breath, leaning closer to her ear. His cologne was distracting, but not enough to mask the annoyance in his voice.

“I am smiling,” {{user}} hissed back, her teeth clenched so tightly it felt unnatural.

It wasn’t supposed to go this far. The plan was to fake a harmless flirtation, just enough to shut everyone up. But then Sarah, Rafe’s sister, had loudly declared during dinner, “I knew it! You two are dating!” and the room erupted in cheers. Before either of them could deny it, Topper was clapping Rafe on the back and John B was grinning at {{user}} like he’d cracked some cosmic code.

Now, they were stuck in this ridiculous charade for the rest of the trip.

“Just… follow my lead,” Rafe said, slipping an arm around {{user}}’s waist as the group snapped yet another photo. His touch was firm but casual, as though he’d done this a thousand times before.

“Your lead? This was your fault,” she whispered sharply, turning her head just enough to glare at him. “You didn’t have to play along so enthusiastically.”

“Oh, right, because you weren’t the one giggling at my stupid jokes during dinner like a lovesick teenager,” he shot back, his blue eyes narrowing.