Page 15 of Cupid's Beau

“You two are dating. Just started. Very private, very new. You’ll leave together, head to New York. We’ll release a joint statement asking for privacy during this early stage of your relationship.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Absolutely not,” Jack says at the same time I blurt out, “Is that really necessary?”

“It’s the best option,” Malik argues through my phone. “The story’s already viral. If we try to deny it now, it’ll just fuel more speculation, more digging.”

“The photos are… compelling,” Sandra adds. “The way you were dancing-”

“That was private,” Jack cuts in, voice sharp. He still doesn’t look at me.

“Nothing’s private anymore,” Sandra says gently. “You know that, Jack. At least this way, you both have some control. A few weeks of dating, an amicable parting - it’s better than months of speculation and stalking.”

I watch Jack’s hands clench on the counter. Last night, those hands were so gentle in my hair, down my back, around my waist…

“The inn,” I blurt. “The photographers - they won’t leave unlesswe do, right?”

“Probably not,” Malik confirms.

Jack finally meets my eyes. The walls are back up, but there’s something else there too - regret? Worry?

“You don’t have to do this,” he hisses.

“Do we have another choice?”

Sandra and Malik lay out the plan: we leave today, together. They’ll arrange transport to avoid the photographers. Issue a joint statement. A few carefully orchestrated public appearances in New York. Then, in a few weeks, an amicable parting.

Simple. Clean. Fake.

Except, nothing about last night felt fake.

My parents appear in the kitchen doorway, my mother’s eyes are wide with concern, my father’s arm around her shoulders.

“We’ll handle things here,” my father says firmly.

“I’m so sorry,” Jack tells them, and for the first time since this morning, his voice holds real emotion. “This isn’t what I wanted for your home.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” My mother steps forward to squeeze his arm. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I need to pack,” I say, unable to bear the weight of it all.

He nods. “The car will be here in an hour.”

I head upstairs without looking at Jack again. In my room, I start throwing things in a suitcase, trying not to think about how everything changed so fast. Just hours ago, I was falling asleep smiling, my lips still tingling from his kiss. Now we’re about to pretend to date to avoid a scandal.

A soft knock at my door makes me jump.

“Neneh?” Jack’s voice comes low and hesitant. “Can we talk?”

I stare at the door, my hand frozen over the open suitcase. “It’s open.”

He steps inside, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he just stands there, and I can’t help noticing how he makes my childhood bedroom feel tiny. I wonder what he thinks of my pink walls, plush animals, and motivational posters.

“Listen,” he starts, then runs a hand through his hair. “About last night-”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” I turn back to my packing, shoving clothes in with more force than necessary. “It was just a kiss. Obviously, it didn’t-”

“Don’t.” The roughness in his voice makes me look up. “Don’t say it didn’t mean anything.”

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