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I explained my dream of establishing myself as an artist here in Pebble Point. How I only had a month left before my parents’ financial support ran out. My only hope of avoiding the predetermined path they’d set out for me was proving I could make it on my own.
Dylan listened intently, his gaze never leaving my face. I finally got to the crazy part - my idea for him to pretend to be my fiancé.
“It’s the only way I can get them to take my choices seriously,” I finished in a rush. “If they think I’m engaged, especially to someone like you, a local firefighter, they can’t just dismiss it as a flighty phase.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to bear looking at Dylan’s reaction. A tense silence filled the space between us. This was it. He would either laugh in my face or politely decline and then avoid me forever. I braced myself for the rejection.
“Okay.”
My eyes flew open. “Wait, what?”
Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. “I said okay. I’ll do it.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re willing to pretend to be my fiancé?”
He nodded. “I know how important this is to you. And I want to help.”
“But...why?” I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Dylan looked thoughtful. “Let’s just say I understand what it’s like to have other people’s expectations forced on you. Everyone deserves a shot at following their dreams.”
I noticed a flicker of some unspoken emotion in his eyes. There was more to this than he was letting on. But the fact he said yes at all was astonishing enough for now.
I flipped open my notebook, pen poised to capture every intricate detail of our faux engagement. Nothing could be left to chance if we were to pull this off.
“Okay, first thing first,” I said, tapping my pen on the blank page. “How did you propose?”
Dylan leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Well, it must be somewhere memorable, but casual enough to fit my style.”
I nodded, scribbling notes. “Oh! What about that cliff side overlook on the south edge of town? It has amazing sunsets.”
“Perfect.” Dylan smiled. “I could say I surprised you with a picnic dinner there. Candles, flowers, the whole nine yards. When the sun started going down, I could drop to one knee and pop the question just as the sky lit up in shades of pink and orange.”
My heart fluttered at the image he painted. Focus, Avery! This wasn’t real. I cleared my throat and added more notes about the fictional proposal scene.
“We should figure out a ring, too,” I said. “Something that looks real, but we can say is just a placeholder.”
“My buddy Jake is a jeweler. I’m sure he could lend us something.”
We hammered out other critical details - the length of our fictional relationship, how often we saw each other, with me being so focused on my art, and cute stories of our first dates. It amazed me how easily ideas flowed between us, each building off the other’s thoughts. It was like our imaginations were in sync.
After an hour, we had fleshed out a thorough history of our “courtship.” My notebook pages were filled with bullet points, scenes, and reminders. We even started a list of pet names to use and details to learn about each other for authenticity.
“I think we’ve got enough here to fool even the toughest skeptics,” I said, my eyes roaming over our handiwork.
“We make a pretty good team,” Dylan said with a crooked smile that did inexplicable things to my stomach.
I stepped out of Dylan’s front door, my mind spinning. Our planning session had been exhilarating, terrifying, and confusing all at once. I had agreed instinctively when he jokingly proposed a test run of our fake engagement at the community beach picnic this Saturday. It was a clever idea, a chance to practice convincing people we were madly in love before the actual performance for my family.
But now, alone with my thoughts, the reality of what I’d signed up for was sinking in. I’d have to hold his hand, gaze adoringly into his eyes, and pretend to be completely enamored. Could I pull that off convincingly? And why did the idea make my heart race for reasons entirely unrelated to anxiety?
I took a deep breath of the salty sea air, trying to clear the jumble of emotions swirling inside me. Excitement warred with uncertainty. Curiosity with apprehension. The attraction with...well, more attraction. I couldn’t deny Dylan was appealing in many ways. And the thought of getting to know him better, even under false pretenses, stirred up feelings I hadn’t expected.
But I couldn’t lose focus. This arrangement was born of necessity, not romantic notions. I was an artist on a mission, determined to gain my freedom and forge my own path. Entertaining girlish daydreams about Dylan would only distract me.
Still, as I walked home, I couldn’t stop replaying our planning session. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. His unexpected patience and willingness to help. I hugged my notebook tightly to my chest, covering cover with details of our fabricated relationship. It was real to me now, in black and white.
I paused when I reached my front door, looking back toward Dylan’s house down the street. My heart hummed with a buoyant melody of relief and excitement, spiked with tremulous notes of anxiety about deceiving my family. But there was also a curious spark of thrill at the thought of playing the role of Dylan’s fiancée, even for pretend.
