I had spent the better part of the day agonizing over my outfit. A tailored navy blue suit, crisp white shirt, and a silk tie that Jenna had personally picked out. I had even subjected myself to a painful grooming session. Still, I felt like a cardboard cutout compared to the polished perfection of Hollywood.

“Seriously,” she said, her voice earnest. “You look handsome, you’re smart, and you're funny. People are going to love you. Besides, I want to show you off. You’re my man.”

Her words were laced with genuine affection, and the knot in my stomach loosened a fraction. This was Jenna, my Jenna. She was just as excited to have me there as I was terrified.

As the limo pulled up to the red carpet barriers, the sound of screaming fans and the blinding flashes of cameras became almost deafening. Jenna gave my hand another reassuring squeeze. "Ready?"

The moment we stepped out, the chaos erupted. A swarm of photographers descended upon us, yelling questions and snapping pictures at a dizzying pace. I felt a surge of panic, wanting nothing more than to disappear back into the limo.

Jenna, however, was calm. She smiled, posed for a few photos, and then subtly guided me forward, her hand firmly on my back. “This is my boyfriend, [Your Name],” she announced to a nearby reporter who was trying to shout a question about her upcoming movie.

As we moved further down the red carpet, navigating the throng of reporters and fans, Jenna stayed close. She introduced me to some of her friends and colleagues, all of whom were incredibly gracious and welcoming. But even their kindness couldn’t completely shake the feeling that I was an imposter.