Pretend to Be Mine

I clutched my phone with both hands like it might slip away if I loosened my grip. What had I just agreed to? The words still felt unreal in my mouth: a fake relationship with Adrian Harrington. I'd left his office an hour ago, my mind reeling, and now I paced our tiny living room, wearing a path into the threadbare rug.

My footsteps echoed faintly against the apartment walls. Each pace made my stomach flutter like a trapped bird. My chest tightened, a cocktail of fear, thrill, and something I didn't want to name.

There was only one person I trusted with something this ridiculous.

"Maya!" I called, my voice high and urgent. "Come here. Now."

A muffled giggle floated from behind Maya's bedroom door. "Emergency, or did you finally decide to organize your closet?"

"This is serious!" I snapped, pacing faster.

Seconds later, Maya appeared in the doorway, T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, braid messy, a pen still tucked behind her ear. She looked like chaos in human form-and entirely too amused.

"You look like you swallowed a thunderstorm. Spill." She plopped onto the couch, eyes gleaming. "If you dragged me here because of a spider, I swear-"

"This is worse than a spider." I sat across from her, voice hushed, guilty. "I agreed to something stupid."

Maya leaned forward, eyes widening. "Stupid like you bought a juicer? Or stupid like you sold your soul to the internet?"

"Adrian Harrington," I blurted, then clapped a hand over my mouth.

Maya froze. "Wait. THE Adrian Harrington? Billionaire, broody, terrifying cheekbones?"

I nodded miserably. "He asked me to... pretend to be his girlfriend. And I said yes."

The silence lasted a single stunned heartbeat. Then Maya exploded-half laugh, half squeal. "You WHAT?"

"I know, I know-"

"You WHAT?" She threw her arms in the air. "You said YES? To the human embodiment of a stock market crash?"

I buried my face in my hands. "I didn't plan it. He offered-connections, opportunities, security. For us. And I thought of rent, tuition, groceries, all of it, and-"

Maya slapped her knee dramatically. "This is literally fanfiction. Fake dating the billionaire boss? I've read this trope a hundred times!"

"This isn't a trope, it's my life!"

She snorted. "Same thing." But then her humor faded, her expression turning sharp.

"Okay, real question. Are you safe with him? He's not going to... I don't know, lock you in a glass tower?"

I rolled my eyes, though the knot in my stomach tightened. "He's not dangerous, Maya. Just-intense. Calculated."

"Mm-hm." She tapped her chin, eyes narrowing. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Text me every single time he so much as touches your sleeve. If I see one dramatic photo online of his hand near yours, I'll march to Harrington Enterprises myself and serve him a cease-and-desist for emotional distress."

Despite myself, I laughed. "Deal."

Maya smiled, satisfied, and squeezed my hand. "You can do this. Remember when you tried to 'cook' spaghetti and almost burned the kitchen down?"

I groaned. "Please don't remind me."

"Consider this the same-except now the kitchen is a skyscraper and the spaghetti is a billionaire. And hey-if this comes with free designer dresses, you'd better bring at least one home for me."

I chuckled weakly, but inside my nerves were a storm. I'd made a decision that couldn't be undone, and Maya's joking faith was the only thing keeping me steady.

Across town, Adrian stood by the glass wall of his office, the city lights glinting against his reflection. Marcus lounged at the conference table, arms crossed, grin infuriatingly smug.

"You actually convinced her?" Marcus asked, laughter bubbling.

Adrian adjusted his cufflinks. "Convinced is a strong word."

Marcus barked a laugh. "Please. What did you do-promise her your private island? Or unleash the legendary Harrington charm? Oh wait-you don't have any."

Adrian's glare was sharp enough to cut glass. "It's a mutually beneficial agreement."

"Sure," Marcus drawled. "Totally business. Not personal at all." He raised his glass in mock salute. "To fake love stories."

Adrian didn't rise to the bait. But Marcus's next words landed harder.

"Don't break her."

Adrian's hand tightened around his glass, a silent admission he wouldn't say aloud.

Back at the apartment, Maya had already taken over "training" me. She queued influencer videos on "How to Survive Rich People Spaces" and scribbled a checklist in neon marker:

• Smile like you own it.

• Don't faint near chandeliers.

• Rehearse rich-people small talk.

• Emergency exits: always locate.

I groaned. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're about to step into billionaire territory," she retorted. "This is survival."

Despite the sarcasm, I felt lighter. My sister's absurd loyalty steadied me more than any contract clause.

That night, though, lying in bed, I couldn't silence the unease. I thought of Adrian's smirk, of the way he'd looked at me like he was already sure I'd fold. I thought of Maya's fierce humor, her insistence on being my anchor.

And beneath all of it, a thrill pulsed-dangerous, unwanted, but undeniable. For once, my carefully built world was shifting. And for someone who had spent years trying to hold everything together, that shift felt terrifying and almost... promising.

I grabbed my phone and typed a quick message to Maya: Promise I'll text if he ever touches my sleeve.

Her reply was instant: I'll come swinging. Baseball bat ready.

I laughed softly in the dark. Tomorrow, the performance would begin. But tonight, I had Maya's ridiculous, fearless faith-and that was enough.

Meanwhile, in Harrington Tower, Marcus lingered as Adrian prepared to leave.

"You really think this will work?" Marcus asked lightly.

Adrian didn't look up. "It has to."

Marcus's smirk faded into something sharper. "Careful, my friend. Performances have a way of turning into truths."

Adrian's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.

The city outside both apartments glittered-half promise, half warning. And as I drifted into uneasy sleep, neither Adrian nor I knew just how quickly the line between pretending and reality was about to blur.