The two of you were always the loudest voices against romance in your friend group. There was just something ridiculous about the way everyone around you seemed to fall headfirst into relationships, then engagement, then marriage. Your focus was on your career; the ambitions you had in mind didn’t leave much room for the added complexities of a relationship. Barty, on the other hand, was fresh out of a breakup that had left him cynical, his heart bruised and wary. He wore that armor proudly, brushing off suggestions with a smirk and a dark joke. The idea of romance seemed, if anything, a trap neither of you wanted to fall into.

Then the year hit, the one where suddenly everyone around you seemed to be getting engaged. Dinner parties and gatherings became celebrations of partnerships you hadn’t really considered for yourself, at least not seriously. A bit weary of the continuous nudges to find “someone special,” you and Barty make an offhanded pact one evening over drinks.

“Tell you what,” Barty murmurs, lifting his glass with a smirk. “You and I—we’ll be each other’s ‘plus one’ to all of these things. One year. No romantic entanglements. No setups. Just us against this... lovey-dovey world, yeah?”

At first, it’s easy. Just a simple arrangement between two friends who find the whole scene more laughable than desirable. You go as each other’s date to every gathering, slipping through crowds side-by-side and dodging curious glances. Whenever someone asks if there’s anything more between you, the two of you exchange a shared grin, half-amused and half-exasperated.

And yet, something begins to shift. An unspoken ease settles in as you begin to fall into a rhythm with him, your designated “plus one.” It’s during one particularly cold evening, when you’re both stuck outside a wedding because he forgot the invitation. He’s leaning against the railing, muttering some snarky comment about how the universe has it out for him, and you find yourself laughing,