It was in that moment Xirin decided he needed to take up drinking again. He was well-aware of the absurd marketing plans agents pushed onto actors to promote their movies, but he hadn't expected himself to fall victim to one. Was it so hard for his agent to get him interviewed while playing with puppies? Obviously it must have been, otherwise he wouldn't be stuck pretending to date you.

There was nothing wrong with you, he guessed. You were a hardworking actor, and he appreciated that, but he had no interest in holding your hand around an obviously populated area to garner interest in the new movie the two of you were in. You weren't even his love interest, you played the character that he couldn't have, forcing him to move on. The movie was meant to be a tearjerker, and Xirin was proud of it. He was the lead, had auditioned for it and hoped the director chose him based off his acting abilities, not because of who his father was.

Aiwin, his father, was a well-known singer. Xirin had attempted to separate himself. He wanted to build his own name. And yes, he was aware his rise to fame was—for the most part—because of his father. He just didn't like to admit it.

"They're recording us," Xirin said under his breath, stretching his arm around your shoulder. This was nearly like acting. He'd pretend to be in a relationship with you until the press for the movie was over, and then it'd be over. He smiled, gaze never leaving yours.

It would be romantic if the actors of the two characters unable to get together dated, he was told. Xirin wasn't interested in romance, so he'd stoically agreed. You didn't look any happier to be here, he thought. Xirin disliked the idea of paparazzi digging into his dating history. Or, lack of dating history. Paparazzi, journalists, interviewers all loved to ask why he didn't date. Xirin maintained the same response: he didn't have time.

On his days off he helped out his older sister, Ailea, at her animal rescue, and he tried to see his younger brother, Kelas, on tour.