Chapter 2
1387 Words
Just Pretend - Chapter 2
It had been years.
Years since their last conversation.
Years since their last encounter.
Not a single call. Not a single message. So long, in fact, that Evelyn Carter had nearly erased him from her memory.
But not quite.
She still remembered.
Their final conversation had been anything but pleasant.
Not the kind of exchange that would make a guy come over and offer help when he saw her in a mess.
Her first thought?
He must have mistaken me for someone else.
But then another possibility crept in.
Maybe over the years, West Langley had matured, grown past old grievances, and now saw their past as nothing more than the trivial dust of adolescence. Maybe this was nothing but a polite gesture—a casual formality between former classmates.
Evelyn pushed those thoughts aside and held out the jacket to him, her expression unreadable but questioning.
West didn’t take it. His gaze flickered past the coat before he said, casually, “I own this place.”
Her hand hovered midair.
For a second, she didn’t quite know how to react.
Was he introducing himself?
Or flexing?
Was this meant to be a self-proclaimed achievement, a sign of how well he was doing now? Look at me. I’ve made it.
Oddly enough, in this moment, her mind drifted back to Chloe’s words.
"The bar owner is basically the poster boy of Temptation Alley."
Her eyes involuntarily lingered on his face a little longer.
Dark hair, sharp brows, eyes an inky black that seemed even colder in this dim lighting.
Gone was the defiant recklessness of his youth. His features had hardened, sharpened, matured into something more striking. He was tall and lean, draped in all black, his stance exuding effortless arrogance—a mix of indifference and confidence.
If he was the so-called poster boy...
It wasn’t an exaggeration.
West spoke again, his voice steady, pulling her back to reality.
“Langley.”
“…?”
Was he... telling her his last name?
So, he really hadn’t recognized her.
He was introducing himself.
Evelyn’s thoughts clicked into place. She met his gaze and, with practiced calm, asked, “Is there something you need?”
“My apologies,” he said, his tone polite but detached. “It was our mistake. I hope it didn’t cause too much inconvenience. If there’s anything we can do to make up for it, please let me know. Also, your drinks are on the house tonight. I hope this doesn’t ruin your evening.”
Every word was formal, respectful even.
And yet, somehow, it didn’t sound respectful at all.
His voice still carried that same lazy, careless indifference from years ago, a tone that made it feel more like an obligation than a sincere apology.
Evelyn shook her head. “No need. It’s fine.”
The moment the words left her lips, West’s brows relaxed, like he’d been expecting trouble and was relieved when none came. His tone even softened a fraction as he nodded. “Alright, then. Enjoy your night.”
With that, he turned and strode away.
Evelyn was still holding his jacket.
Without thinking, she called after him, “West—”
He glanced back.
Their eyes met.
And that’s when she realized.
They were strangers now.
The name stuck in her throat.
Her mind jammed, scrambling for something—anything—to call him.
The air grew awkward, heavy with silence.
Then, from the depths of her unfocused thoughts, the words that had been floating in her mind resurfaced.
She stared at his face.
And before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Poster boy.”
“…”
The world stilled.
For a second, Evelyn swore she saw something flicker in his expression.
A barely-there twitch of his brow.
“…?”
Wait.
What the hell did she just say?
West. Poster. Boy.
Oh.
West...
Oh, f**k.
Oh f**k.
West Poster Boy, oh my f*****g god.
Her breath hitched.
Her face remained composed by sheer force of will, but internally, she was screaming. She didn’t even dare to look at his reaction. Quickly, she pushed his jacket toward him again. “Your coat.”
The best solution?
Pretend nothing happened.
Move on.
Act like it was nothing but a passing breeze.
But West didn’t let it slide.
He tilted his head, repeating her words slowly, deliberately. “Poster. Boy?”
Evelyn feigned innocence. “What?”
Silence.
Then, something shifted in his gaze—like he had just put the pieces together. He let out a slow, amused breath and leaned back slightly. “Sorry, but this is a respectable bar.”
“…”
The implication was clear.
I know I’m attractive, but I’m not offering that kind of service. Please control yourself.
Evelyn wanted to clarify. Really, she did.
But how the hell was she supposed to explain this?
She exhaled, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. It wasn’t like they’d see each other again after tonight. So, instead, she leaned into it. “Oh? That’s a shame.”
West’s expression flickered.
Just for a second.
Or maybe she imagined it.
Because when she blinked, his face was as unreadable as ever.
Evelyn didn’t dwell on it. She merely lifted his coat again. “Your jacket.”
Still, he made no move to take it.
For the next ten seconds, Evelyn noticed something strange.
West’s gaze wasn’t on her eyes.
It lingered at the corner of her lips.
There was an unreadable weight behind his stare—straightforward, deliberate, yet oddly thoughtful.
Then—
He smirked.
“Wearing my jacket,” he mused, “seemed to make you pretty happy.”
“…?”
Evelyn: What?
“Not sure if you know, but apparently, I’m more famous than this bar,” he continued, his tone easy, his brow raising slightly in mock thoughtfulness. “Might as well take it as a souvenir.”
“…?”
Later that night.
“You’re telling me he actually said that?” Chloe nearly choked on her drink. “Jesus Christ. Why didn’t he just tell you to frame it and hang it on your wall?”
Evelyn took a slow sip of her cocktail. “That was basically the subtext.”
Chloe wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Goddamn. I mean, to be fair, considering how many people probably come here just to gawk at him, I guess it’s understandable.”
“Gawk?” Evelyn corrected. “Did you forget our actual purpose tonight?”
“…?”
“We came to ogle, Chloe,” Evelyn said flatly. “His words should at least match our intentions.”
“…Pfft—”
Chloe doubled over, laughing again.
Evelyn let out a quiet chuckle. “Alright, calm down. He’s still here.”
At the bar, West remained seated at the edge, lazily nursing a drink. His posture was relaxed, an air of indifference wrapped around him like a second skin.
Chloe finally reined in her laughter.
At that moment, the young bartender from earlier approached their table, placing a tray of fresh drinks down.
“Here’s your order,” he said, a little nervous.
Evelyn frowned when she noticed something under the bill holder.
Money.
Before she could ask, the bartender quickly explained, “It’s on the house. The owner’s orders.”
A memory flickered.
West’s words from earlier.
She hesitated, instinctively wanting to refuse. “That’s not—”
“No, please,” the bartender insisted. “And if you need anything else, just let me know.”
His tone left no room for argument.
Evelyn sighed and relented. “Alright.”
As he left, Chloe nudged her. “You could’ve just taken the free drinks.”
“People run businesses to make money,” Evelyn muttered. “No need to rob him over something so minor.”
Chloe snorted. “Girl, this guy’s been rich since birth. Don’t worry about his pockets.”
She paused, then tilted her head. “So, he really didn’t recognize you?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Probably not.”
“…How?” Chloe scoffed. “Do you not know how you look? I swear, you have the face of a goddamn femme fatale.”
Evelyn nearly choked on her drink.
- Writer
