29
SPIRAL LIKE YOU MEAN IT
Holly
“They said ‘pretend it’s real.’ And I said ‘cool, let me go compartmentalize behind the nearest fern’. Good times.”
Kendall
Hey girl.
I know it’s your day off…
But we need you at the studio today for some promo work.
I’ll forward the schedule. Thx babe
The second Holly saw the ‘set’ she wanted to fake an injury and go home. Kendall had placed two IKEA stools, a faux exposed brick wall, and a sad fern in the corner ofherrehearsal studio. There was a camera crew of three, a wardrobe rack of outfits that screamedsponsored by people who hate subtlety,and Nate was leaning against thewall to the side as though he was auditioning to be the lead in a Scandinavian thirst trap calendar.
He looked good. Like, genuinely illegal. Rolled-up sleeves, top two buttons undone, tattooed forearms doing the most. Just to be clear, she still wanted to lace his coffee with a laxative or three, but if hesighedat her wrong, she was going to need electrolytes.
“This won’t take long,” she muttered to him, dumping her bag on their shared table while a production assistant spritzed her with setting spray like she was being prepared for battle. “Smile, pose. Pretend to be madly in love. Easy.”
Nate glanced sideways at her with his heart in his eyes right as Martin clapped his hands.
“Okay! Lovebirds! We’re going forvintage flirtmeetsmodern chaos! Think: ‘We’re falling in love during a break between rehearsals and someone justhappenedto capture the moment for Instagram.’”
Nate raised a brow. “What a coincidence.”
They started simple. Nate perched on a stool, Holly standing between his knees, one of his hands at her waist, the other casually draped over his thigh like it was any other Tuesday. She posed. Smiled. She resisted the urge to scream.
But then Martin wantedvibes.
“Let’s try something more playful. Holly, sit on the back of the couch, lean down like you’re about to whisper something dirty in Nate’s ear while he’s watching a game. Nate, look like you’ve just been blessed by the saints.”
“Which saints?” Nate asked, deadpan. “Be specific.”
“Saint Thirstina of Horny TikTok,” Martin replied without missing a beat.
“I’m gonna throw myself down a flight of stairs,” Holly muttered darkly under her breath, drawing a huff of laughter from Nate that surprised her.
They rearranged. She balanced on the back of the sad gray loveseat, Nate between her legs like this was definitely how regular couples showed their affection during work breaks at the office. The whole thing was ridiculous, but it would’ve been much easier if he didn’t touch her like he meant it.
Every time his hands landed on her, they lingered. Not long enough to break HR rules, but long enough to make her skin hum. His gaze followed her mouth like it was a script he’d memorized. He looked at her like heknew. She tried to just push through the shoot with her dignity intact and her pantiesnotself-combusting in public.
And then Martin said it.
“Perfect. Now pretend it’s real.”
And Nate, her six-four asshole PR punishment of a dance partner, leaned in close and murmured: “I don’t have to pretend.”
Right in her fucking ear.
The world shifted. Her brain blue-screened. Somewhere, a keyboard smash appeared in the sky. Holly glanced at him, her heart racing even as her face registered her confusion. She'd offered to give him everything right out there in the open in front of everyone, and he hadn’t taken it. Yet he was looking at her now with the raw, simple truth of a man who’d clearly already bought the emotional engagement ring and was waiting for her to stop panicking.
“Touch-up!” she called to Martin fleeing toward the hair and makeup table like it was the exit to a hostage situation. “Lips are dry!”
Her lipstick was fine, but hersanitywas seriously unwell. By the time she reached the mirror her hands were shaking, and she’d broken out in a full-body existential crisis. She stared at her reflection, taking in the flush in her cheeks and the haunted shadows in her eyes.
