It was clearly a bad idea, I knew it. Only supposed to let things be uncomplicated, like a rusty fence gate swinging by its hinges. That's how it was supposed to be anyway. Ryan and I were supposed to pretend, act like a couple for the sake of his career, and mine, I guess. But everything got much... complicated.I had spent most of the last few weeks convincing myself that it all was for show, all that close proximity, the late-night talks, the same glances looking at each other, all acrobatics. I was good at this, good keeping my feelings in check. I had to. I had to remember this was fake. A business arrangement, and a favor. That is all. Still, it would flutter for a while in my chest every time Ryan laughed; and even he brushed past me and touched me ever so lightly, my skin tingled. It was absurd, really. I mean, I shouldn't feel anything. He was my fake boyfriend. We had a deal. But as I stood in front of the mirror this morning, fiddling with the blouse I picked for the day's faux outing, I couldn't help but think: What if? What if this wasn't all pretend? What if Ryan felt something afterward too? What if… no. I quickly dismissed the thought. I knew better. As I step into the coffee shop we were supposed to meet at, I don't linger on the idea. Ryan was already there, sitting by himself at a small table next to the window. His back was facing me but it was unmistakable because of the way he was seating himself, automatically garnishing the space without even putting effort into it. Ryan was effortlessly charming, magnetic even. That was part of the problem.I reached just in front of the table and immediately, he turned and wore that all too easy of a smile on his face. "Hey, Emily," he said, standing up to pull out the chair for me. It was natural, as if we had known each other for ages. "Hi, Ryan." I sat down. I tried not to overthink the longer-than-usual gaze directed toward me. It was probably nothing. Just part of the act.We started discussing what's happening in the media about us finally coming out into the open regarding the so-called relationship. I brushed the thought aside: it was easy to be with him, much easier to slip into our roles. He added that after our conversation, he had to catch up on a press event, so I decided to go with him as moral support. We didn't have any plans, and besides, I couldn't back out of such a thing without it looking suspicious.Chatting turned into wandering thoughts, and I lost myself in the stupidest things, like when his hand brushed against mine as he reached across to grab his coffee cup from the table. Nothing heavy or touchy. Just something small, but it sent a wave of fire through my chest. My thoughts scattered, and I pulled my hand back as quickly as I could to tuck it into my lap. He didn't seem to notice, or at least, he didn't acknowledge it. He spoke again, but I couldn't pay attention to his words. My heart was racing; my palms were clammy. All that I could think about was the touch itself. The way his fingers had felt against mine-was that just part of the act too? "Emily?" Ryan's voice cut through my stupor, and I blinked to realize that I had not heard a single word in the past minute. "Sorry, what?" Eyebrow raised with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Are you okay? You look a little... distracted."I grinned artificially at him, attempting to brush aside the throbbing beat of my heart. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a long week, you know?"Ryan studied me for a second and then nodded. "I get it. We've both got a lot going on. It's been nuts, hasn't it?""Yeah. But that's the job, right?" I said, trying to sound casual, since revealing my tangled emotions was the last thing I wanted.He just took a long sip from his coffee before his eyes flickered away to mine once again. "Yeah," he said slowly, "that's the job." And there it was again... a slight hesitation before he spoke. I'd caught it a few times before, those little moments when the professional mask slipped for just a fraction of a second. Enough that no one else would notice it, but me. I noticed everything. As we made our way through the conversation, I found myself stealing glances at him more often. He was so easy to talk to and so infuriatingly difficult to read at the same time. Things were getting blurry between our sham relationship and something more, and I wasn't ready for it.We finished coffee and stood up to leave. Ryan always opened the door for me, and this time was no exception. Stepping out into the cold air, I instinctively leaned into him for warmth. I hardly thought about it, just... natural. "Hey, Emily..." he started in a soft voice. I looked up at him, my heart racing. "Yeah?" He hesitated, breathing out slow. "Do you ever think ... about this whole thing? I mean, about us?" I stood still as the world slowed for a moment; my stomach dropped. No. He couldn't be... Could he? No.I opened my mouth to make a reply, but the sounds did not come. There was a long silence--a deep stretch of silence--and finally, I brought forth a forced laugh. "It is just for cameras, Ryan. That's all."He nodded, looking down at the ground. But dear God, the way he looked at me-almost felt apologetic, even though it would not be right. I ended up not making it right."Yeah," he said, softly, almost unsure. "You are right."The weight of unspoken words hung between us, and it had drawn us closer while I fought to keep it all at arm's length. We walked in silence to the car.So I got into the car, telling myself that everything was fine, that I could keep pretending. I could keep this professional. I had to. It was all part of the plan. Yes, I told myself all this, even as somewhere deep within me there was a deep awareness that the plan was spiraling out of control. And soon, I wasn't sure how to know where the act ended and the truth began.
