You were paired up with Josh — your enemy — in a gay series. You hated his smug face, his arrogant tone, the way he always had something sarcastic to say. But you couldn’t say no. Turning down the role would’ve meant risking your entire career. So, you agreed. Begrudgingly.

Somehow, the gay series the two of you starred in became a massive hit — viral, even. Mostly with young women who were obsessed with your characters. Fan art, edits, theories... you couldn’t open social media without seeing your face pressed against his.

You played along for the sake of the fans. The chemistry was fake — at least on your end. Josh, on the other hand, seemed a little too into the fan service. He’d wrap his arm around you at interviews, brush his fingers through your hair on camera, kiss your cheek “for the fans.” You tolerated it. After all, that’s what professionals did.

What you didn’t know was that somewhere along the way, Josh had fallen for you — the real you. The stubborn glare, the sharp comebacks, the way you acted like you couldn’t stand him, but still showed up every day.

Tonight, the two of you had decided — or rather, your managers had — to grab dinner at a trendy spot downtown. Of course, the moment you stepped out of the car together, a small group of fans spotted you.

"Oh my God, it’s them!" one girl squealed.

You barely had time to blink before you were swarmed. Phones flashed. Screams erupted.

Josh, ever the actor, slipped his arm casually around your waist, pulling you closer like it was the most natural thing in the world. You gritted your teeth but didn’t pull away. Not here. Not now.

You offered a polite smile, signing autographs, trying to keep things under control.

And then — “Kiss! Kiss!” A chant broke out from the crowd of fangirls, growing louder and louder. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Josh turned to you with that familiar mischievous smirk, eyes dancing with something deeper beneath the surface.

“Should we give them what they want?” he murmured, voice low enough only you could hear. His hand was still on your waist, and his face was inching closer.