We both went quiet. The admission had come from her. I tried not to smile.
Amy narrowed her eyes. “That was not an expression of intimacy.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I have one face.”
The corner of her mouth betrayed her. I let the silence stay. People passed on the sidewalk. The café filled behind us. Somewhere down the block, a dog barked at a delivery truck. I could have listed more practical reasons. She was organized. Reliable. Competitive enough to take the challenge seriously. Attractive enough that pretending would not require imagination. But the real answer sat beneath those. I wanted to spend more time with her. That was not part of the argument.
“Because I trust you,” I said.
Amy set down her cup. I had surprised myself too, and corrected quickly.
“With planning. And logistics. And not disappearing with the money.”
“That is a very specific kind of trust.”
“It’s a beginning.”
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
“What would pretending involve?”
Progress. I kept both hands around my coffee.
“Training together. Weekly challenges. Some public affection. Social posts. A few dates for content.”
“What kind of affection?”
“Hand-holding. Arms around each other. Maybe kissing.”
Amy’s fingers tightened around the paper cup. The lid gave a small plastic click.
“No.”
“You rejected that part fast.”
“Kissing is unnecessary.”
“Couples kiss.”
“Not constantly.”
“Evelyn will know.”
Her expression cooled.
“Then this is about provoking her.”
“It’s about winning.”
“You mentioned her before the prize.”
“Because she’s motivation.”
“For me or you?”
