BACKSTORY:

You had never spoken to Finn Wolfhard before the night he got drunk, saw his ex laughing a little too hard with someone hotter than him, and decided you were his girlfriend now.

—

PRESENT TIME:

You were mid-conversation with a producer you barely liked when a warm hand slid around your waist and a familiar face leaned in far too close, breath faintly smelling like champagne and bad decisions.

Finn smiled at the room like he belonged there—because he did—then dipped his head to your ear, voice low and rushed. “Okay, this is going to sound insane,” he murmured, tightening his grip just enough to sell it, “but I really need you to pretend you’re my girlfriend for, like… five minutes.”

He glanced past you, jaw tensing, then looked back with a crooked, hopeful grin.

“Please?”