“You know him?” Mom asked Sam, stunned the third time around.
“Jeez, Mom, what a question,” Sam said, breezy as ever.
A blink of silence. I could practically hear the gears turning in Mom’s head, but Sam didn’t flinch. My MVP of crisis management, someone please give her a medal.
“Okay, Love, want to finish the intro with your dad?” Sean asked.
“Wait,” Sam cut in. “Before you do, Ella wants a photo. You, me, Sean. Graduation backdrop, over by the hedge where the string lights look good. Two minutes.”
Grateful to escape the tension, we followed Sam out to the back porch, Sean holding my hand. I didn’t look back, but I felt Mom’s and Vince’s eyes drilling into me, with smoke probably coming out of their ears.
Sean’s timing had been flawless, so smooth I started wondering if he practiced this kind of performance in his freetime. Meanwhile, I was barely holding it together, my dress suddenly too warm. A walking, talking stress ball on the arm of Mr. Cool Under Pressure.
The air outside was cooler, scented with honeysuckles climbing the fence and the smoky sweetness of grilled food.
“What’s the photo for?” Sean asked as we descended the steps.
“You know Ella, Mel,” Sam said. “She’s in full blog mode. Theme of the month is graduation, and she’s taking my grad recap as seriously as finding a cure. You’ll be a tiny part of it. C’mon.”
She waved to her friend, who stood at the edge of the lawn, camera slung around her neck.
After a quick greeting with Ella, she framed us: Sam in the middle, beaming in her gown. Me on one side, Sean on the other, his arm slung behind us.
“One more couple pic, please.” Ella grinned. “You two are too cute not to document.”
Couple pic?My heart skittered.
“Are you okay with that?” Sean asked, amused.
I was already flushed. “It’s fine.”
It was totally not fine, but how could I deny Ella when she thought we were an actual couple?
Sean’s hand grazed the small of my back as we posed for the photo. The same spark that lit through me when he pulled me close in front of Mom flared again. One photo, but it felt like I’d stepped into quicksand, and the more I tried to stay upright, the deeper I sank.
Ella thanked us.
Sean and I went to meet my dad. He was with his group of friends clustered on a backyard corner. After introducing Sean, Dad lifted an eyebrow, then offered a genuine smile. The party rolled on. Plates continued passing, and music shifted fromupbeat to mellow. People laughed, hugged, and slowly began to peel off in twos and threes.
I caught Sean at the drink table later, refilling my glass without asking. “Hydration,” he said, and it was stupid how much that small gesture cut through the leftover adrenaline.
He stayed close but not clingy, chatting with a few guests, helping move a cooler without being asked. Every time our eyes met across the yard, my stomach did that stupid swoop thing. And when the sky turned that hazy purple-blue of late evening, I realized I didn’t want him to leave.
The aftershock of playing pretend all night lingered; his presence made me feel steadier than I felt in years. After a lifetime of bracing for my mother’s expectations pressing down on me, it felt good to stand next to someone who backed me up like he meant it.
We’d drifted to the back porch, settling shoulder to shoulder on the rail as the evening trickled down. From a distance, we probably looked like any couple taking a quiet breather together. Whenever one of us shifted, his sleeve brushed my arm—small, unspoken touches that sold the picture better than words ever could.
He didn’t seem fazed by the charade, no nervous glances, no awkward pauses. If anything, he wore the role like a second skin. He was surprisingly good at this fake-boyfriend thing, and I wasn’t ready to let that go just yet.
“I should head out,” he said, after we’d stood a while, people-watching and catching snippets of conversation drifting out from inside and across the yard.
I bit my inner cheek. He’d been great company.
“Of course,” I said, disappointment curling through me as I looked through the yard to hide it. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
I didn’t want the night to end, but I could at least stretch it a few more steps.
We passed the last few lingering guests on our way out to the poorly lit sidewalk. My sandals clicked softly on the pavement; the neighborhood buzz of the party had thinned to a hush.
