“An intensive workshop,” she repeats slowly.
“Sure. Think of it like stunt work. It's all about selling the illusion, right? Making something fake look completely real.” I ditch the tea and grab two beers from the fridge instead because this conversation definitely requires alcohol. “I've taught actors how to throw convincing punches and fall down stairs without actually getting hurt. How hard can it be to teach someone to fake a relationship?”
She grabs the beer I offer her and immediately takes a long gulp. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is simple. We just need to establish some ground rules so neither of us accidentally makes this weird.”
“Ground rules. Yes. I love ground rules.” She perches on my coffee table, facing me with the intensity of someone about to negotiate a million-dollar deal. “What kind of ground rules?”
“First, we're clear that this is purely business, right? We're friends helping each other out. Nothing more.” I take a sip of my beer, keeping my voice casual. “No catching feelings, no blurred lines. When this is over, we go back to exactly how things were before.”
“Absolutely,” she says quickly. “This is just temporary. A favor between friends.”
“Good. Second question. Exactly how much acting are we talking about here? How often do you think we'll be around your mom together?”
“Not that much, honestly. I have work, and you're on set most of the time anyway.” She nods, and I can see her confidence growing. “Maybe a meal or two with her. It's not like we'll be performing twenty-four-seven.”
I nod. “Okay, so when we are with your mom, what kind of touching is acceptable? Hand holding? Sitting close together?”
“Basic couple stuff. Nothing dramatic.” She waves her hand like she's shooing away my concerns. “Maybe you put your arm around me like you did tonight. We sit close together. Act like we actually like each other.”
“I do actually like you.”
“You know what I mean.” Her cheeks flush slightly. “Like we like each other in a couple way.”
“And what about kissing?”
The question just hangs there between us, and I watch her face cycle through about six different expressions before settling on determined.
“If the situation absolutely requires it,” she says finally. “But my mom's not going to expect us to make out in front of her. She's Southern.”
“But if she does expect it?”
“Then yes. If the situation absolutely requires it.” She meets my eyes directly. “Would that be okay?”
Any guy in his right mind would say yes to kissing Stella Rhodes, fake relationship or not. She's gorgeous, obviously, but it's more than that. She's… I don't know. Easy to be around. Comfortable. The kind of person who makes you feel like you're the funniest, most interesting version of yourself, and all she's doing is paying attention to you.
Which is probably why I'm not nearly as bothered by this whole fake boyfriend thing as I should be.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual about it. “That's fine. Totally professional.”
“Professional,” she agrees, though something in her voice makes me think she's trying to convince herself as much as me.
“And we're both clear that whatever happens during this whole thing, it doesn't change our friendship. We don't let it get complicated.”
“Right. No complications. We're just two friends doing each other a favor.”
“Exactly.” I raise my beer. “To keeping it simple.”
“To keeping it simple,” she echoes, clinking her bottle against mine.
“You can take my bedroom,” I continue, standing up. “I'll sleep on the couch.”
“Brandon, no. This is your apartment. I can't kick you out of your own bed.”
“You're not kicking me out. I'm offering.” I head toward my bedroom to grab some pillows and blankets. “Besides, your mom would expect me to be a gentleman about sleeping arrangements.”
“Are you sure?”
