Page 50 of The #FakeBoyfriend Bet

"Real is worth it." He brings our joined hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I promise."

As we lie together in the fading afternoon light, the Luminous Beauty contracts forgotten in the living room, I allow myself to believe him. To imagine a future where what we show the world and what we feel in private might eventually align. Where authenticity isn't just a marketing strategy but a way of life.

It's terrifying. It's exhilarating. It's real.

And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm not trying to filter it, edit it, or package it for public consumption. I'm just living it, moment by moment, with a man who sees beyond my carefully constructed image to the messy, imperfect woman beneath.

The woman who, it turns out, might be enough after all.

FOURTEEN

Max

Of all thebizarre experiences in my life—and there have been many, including that time in Cleveland when our drummer got arrested for serenading a police horse—sitting in a glass-walled conference room discussing how I should propose to my girlfriend takes the cake. Except Lena isn't just my girlfriend. She's my fake-girlfriend-turned-real-girlfriend who I'm now going to fake-propose to for a beauty campaign that's paying us to pretend to be what we actually are. If that sentence makes your head hurt, imagine living it. I'm nodding along as Victoria Ellis from Luminous Beauty gestures animatedly at a mood board featuring disgustingly happy couples in various states of engagement bliss, while Tori takes notes and Lena maintains her perfect professional smile. Meanwhile, I'm fighting the urge to laugh hysterically at the cosmic joke that is my life.

"The 'Forever Luminous' collection launch needs a centerpiece moment," Victoria is saying, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against an image of a woman crying photogenically while extending a ring-adorned hand. "Something that embodies the journey of lasting love that our brand represents."

"A proposal," Tori translates unnecessarily, her eyes gleaming with marketing possibilities. "Captured authentically but professionally."

"Exactly!" Victoria beams at her. "We want it to feel genuine, spontaneous—but also perfectly photographed from multiple angles." She turns her attention to me. "Max, this is where you come in. Your proposal to Lena will be the cornerstone of our campaign."

I glance at Lena, who's watching me with an expression I've learned to read over the past months—outwardly composed, inwardly amused. Since our confession and decision to make our relationship real, we've developed a private language of looks and subtle gestures. This one says, *Can you believe this? Play along.*

"I'm honored," I say dryly. "Though I'm not sure how spontaneous it'll be if we're planning it in advance with a professional photography team."

Victoria waves this concern away like an annoying gnat. "That's the art of modern romance, Max! Authenticity with optimal lighting."

"We're thinking an outdoor location," Tori interjects, pulling up images on her tablet. "Sunset at Brooklyn Bridge Park, perhaps? The city skyline provides a stunning backdrop."

"And we'll have a subtle photography team positioned to capture every moment," Victoria adds. "Plus a videographer for social content."

"Don't forget the drone shots," says the marketing director whose name I've already forgotten.

"Naturally," Victoria agrees. "We want aerial coverage of the moment."

"So just the two of us and a small army of cameras," I mutter.

Lena's foot finds mine under the table, a gentle pressure. Warning or solidarity, I'm not sure.

"What about a ring?" she asks, smoothly redirecting. "Since this is for the campaign, should it be one of the Luminous Beauty collaboration pieces?"

The question launches a fifteen-minute discussion about jewelry aesthetics, including a PowerPoint presentation on "engagement ring trends that photograph well." My attention drifts as they debate princess cuts versus cushion cuts, white gold versus platinum. The whole scenario is surreal—planning a fake proposal for a real relationship that we're pretending is fake for public consumption.

Two months ago, after that afternoon in my apartment when Lena finally admitted her feelings were real, we've been living a strange double life. In private, we're a normal couple—well, as normal as a bartender/former musician and a social media influencer can be. We argue about takeout choices, binge-watch shows together, learn each other's quirks and habits. In public, we perform a slightly more polished version of the same relationship, always aware of the cameras, the contractual obligations, the narrative we're selling to her followers and Luminous Beauty customers.

And now they want me to propose. To create the ultimate relationship milestone as content.

"What do you think, Max?" Victoria's voice snaps me back to the present.

"About?" I ask, unabashedly lost.

"The timing. We're thinking three weeks from now, to coincide with the collection's soft launch."

I nod like this makes perfect sense. "Three weeks. Got it."

"That gives you enough time to prepare something special," Tori says meaningfully. "Something that reflects your relationship journey."

Our relationship journey. Right. The one where we met at a bar, made a business arrangement, accidentally fell for each other, slept together, denied our feelings, then finally admitted the truth while maintaining the public fiction that started it all. Not exactly the stuff of Hallmark cards.

---