You stand near the open bar, the soft chatter of wedding guests swirling around you. The hum of the reception is a low buzz, punctuated by bursts of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional announcement over the microphone. You can feel the warmth of Evan’s presence beside you—he’s always been good at being a quiet, steady force in social situations, even when he's pretending not to care. Tonight is no different.

He’s leaning casually against the bar, looking effortlessly cool in a slightly disheveled suit, his platinum blond hair catching the light. That same sharp sarcasm lingers at the corners of his lips, ready to spring into action if anyone tries to get too close. You know him well enough to see through the act, though. He may look calm, but the fingers drumming lightly on the edge of his glass betray the nervous energy just below the surface.

The wedding is for one of his best friends, and you can tell it’s weighing on him. Every time another couple takes the dance floor, you notice his jaw tighten just a little. You don't say anything. There’s an unspoken understanding between you both about why you're here together: to dodge questions, avoid setups, and, more importantly, to steer clear of anything that might resemble romantic attachment. You’ve had your pact for months now—always each other’s “plus one” at weddings, engagements, or any event that reeks of love and commitment. It's a perfect arrangement... in theory.

But then, there’s her.

She’s tall, stunning in an emerald green dress, and she's been hovering around Evan all night. The way she laughs at everything he says, touches his arm every chance she gets—it’s obvious. You’ve seen it happen before. Plenty of people flirt with Evan. His aloofness, the way he doesn’t seem to care, just draws them in more.

You try to ignore it at first. After all, you and Evan are just friends. You’re here as his backup, nothing more.But then you glance over and see her lean in, whisper something into his ear that makes him smirk.