The stand
514 Words
Max arrived at my doorstep, dressed in a fitted T-shirt and jeans, his dark hair perfectly messy. He grinned, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Ryder's come to life," I said, admiring his transformation.
"Time to convince your family and friends," Max replied, winking.
We rehearsed our lines, perfecting the fake boyfriend narrative. Max mastered Ryder's mannerisms, from the charming smile to the subtle gestures. I marveled at his acting skills.
The first test came at my family's weekly dinner gathering. Max, as Ryder, charmed my parents with stories of his entrepreneurial ventures and outdoor adventures. My mom swooned, and even Dad seemed impressed.
"Welcome to the family, Ryder," Mom said, beaming.
As we left, Max whispered, "Easy peasy."
But maintaining the illusion proved challenging. Friends requested group outings, and Max obligingly played Ryder. We navigated conversations, ensuring our stories aligned. The fake relationship began to feel eerily real.
One evening, as we strolled through the park, Max turned serious.
"Hey, how long do you plan to keep this up?" he asked.
"As long as necessary," I replied, shrugging.
Max raised an eyebrow.
"You know, people might get hurt."
I hesitated, considering his words.
"I'll handle it," I said, trying to sound convincing.
As we parted ways, I couldn't shake off Max's concerns. The line between reality and fiction blurred, and I wondered:
What if someone discovered the truth?
What if I lost control of the narrative?
And, most unsettlingly:
What if I started believing the lie myself?
The next morning, my phone buzzed with an unexpected text:
"Hey, love. Missing you."
Ryder's signature.
My heart skipped a beat.
It was Max, playing along.
Or was it?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitant to respond. Max's message had caught me off guard. Was he still playing Ryder, or had something shifted?
"Hey," I typed, trying to sound casual. "Missing you too."
The response came instantly:
"Can't wait to see you tonight."
Tonight? I hadn't planned anything.
"Plans?" I asked, trying to clarify.
"Dinner at 7. I'll pick you up."
My heart skipped a beat. This wasn't part of the script.
"Max, what's going on?" I called, abandoning the texting charade.
"Ryder's taking you out," Max said, chuckling. "Just go with it."
I arrived at 7, dressed in a simple yet elegant outfit. Max, as Ryder, stood at my doorstep, holding flowers.
"You look stunning," he said, handing me the bouquet.
The dinner date unfolded like a dream. Max played Ryder effortlessly, regaling me with stories and laughter. For a moment, I forgot this was pretend.
As the night drew to a close, Max walked me home, his arm around my shoulders.
"Thanks for tonight," I said, feeling a flutter.
"No problem," Max replied, his voice low. "I had fun."
We stood outside my apartment, the tension palpable.
"Max?" I began.
"Ryder," he corrected, his eyes sparkling.
My heart skipped a beat.
"Ryder, then," I whispered. "What's happening here?"
Max's gaze locked onto mine.
"I think we're blurring the lines," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
And with that, he leaned in.
- Writer
