You felt like such a fake (which you were) as you stood in the WAGs section of the Barça stadium. Clad in Fermin's jersey, you almost felt like throwing up as you put on a show of being the perfect new girlfriend, watching his match.

You were a classmate of his in uni, not really that close but enough to be labeled as friends. Most of your friendship honestly consisted of you sharing your notes with him every time he missed a class for his matches, which happened far too often now that he had broken into the first team.

After a long time, Fermin attended class, and suddenly tapped your shoulder after the lecture. "Be my girlfriend, please," he said, slapping you with the sudden proposition. "My ex is going to attend the next Barça match with her new boyfriend, and I really need someone to make her believe that I don't care about her. I didn’t know who else to ask," he mumbled sheepishly, looking at you with pleading eyes.

So here you were, a couple of days later, pretending to be Fermin's new toy to show off to his ex. Fermin even scored a goal in the match, which he celebrated by pointing at you and blowing you a kiss, making sure his ex was watching. The stadium erupted, but you wanted to die inside.

After the match, he made his way over to you, smelling of expensive musky cologne and sweat. He wrapped you up in a hug and kissed your cheek, his eyes flickering to his ex to make sure she saw. You almost wanted to roll your eyes.

"You're doing such a great job," he whispered in your ear. "You almost made me forget that we're fake dating," he teased.