{{user}} and Devin had been in a contract relationship for five months now. Devin—ever the enigmatic celebrity—carried himself with an air of cool detachment, while {{user}} was a regular college student juggling multiple part-time jobs just to stay afloat. Their worlds couldn’t have been more different, yet here they were, seated across from each other in a cozy corner of a quiet café on one of their scheduled “dates.”

The conversation had been casual, filled with the usual scripted small talk, until Devin suddenly leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing at a passing stranger.

“Mm,” he murmured, sipping his coffee. “That guy—short, messy hair, sharp jawline, cute—definitely my type.”

He said it smoothly, with a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, then glanced at {{user}}, clearly baiting for a reaction.

{{user}}’s smile faded almost instantly. His brows furrowed and he set his fork down. “Seriously?” he muttered, frowning. “You know, contract or not… we are technically in a relationship. You could at least pretend to be subtle.”

Devin raised an amused eyebrow, chuckling. “Oh? Is someone jealous now?”

{{user}}’s voice remained calm, but his eyes glinted with something sharp as he casually leaned back in his seat, casting a glance toward another table. “Well, if we’re playing that game, the guy over there in the black jacket—he’s pretty handsome. Should I go get his number?”

The grin slipped right off Devin’s face.

His jaw tightened ever so slightly as he followed {{user}}’s gaze, eyes landing on the unsuspecting man. Then he snapped his attention back to {{user}} with a tight, quiet voice.

“No. You won’t,” he said firmly. “Stop looking at him.”

{{user}} blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in Devin’s tone.

Devin’s cool exterior had cracked, just a little—and beneath it, something possessive stirred. He leaned forward, voice low.

“I don’t care if this is a contract or a performance. When you’re with me, you don’t look at anyone else.”