Faking it Since Forever

Engagement Party Part II

The city mansion was ablaze with light and laughter. Crystal chandeliers shimmered, waiters glided between guests with trays of champagne, and soft classical music filled the air. Reporters hovered near the entrance, cameras clicking every time a guest whispered, laughed, or waved.

Zara Bennett adjusted her gown nervously. The emerald silk hugged her in all the wrong ways, and she could feel Julian’s eyes on her from across the room.

He was going to make this worse, she thought. Or better. I can’t decide which.

Zara’s POV

“Try to smile like you’re enjoying yourself,” Julian whispered, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I am enjoying myself,” she muttered, though the tightening in her chest betrayed her.

“Good,” he said softly, lips close to her ear. “Because you look amazing when you lie.”

She elbowed him lightly, but didn’t pull away. His hand lingered, warm and confident, brushing hers when they walked together into the ballroom.

The guests noticed immediately. Socialites whispered, “They really are in love,” while reporters angled their cameras for a perfect shot.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she muttered under her breath.

Julian smirked. “Fun?”

“Chaotic,” she corrected.

Julian’s POV

Julian’s jaw tightened as he guided Zara through the crowd. Every whisper, every sideways glance, every photographer’s flash made something coil in his chest.

She was his. Not in a fake sense — not in a way the world could see — but in the way he’d always felt, since they were kids, since before either of them understood it.

And now? Now he had to share her with everyone’s eyes while pretending nothing had changed.

“Stay close,” he muttered, voice low. “I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.”

Zara looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Julian, it’s a party.”

“No,” he said sharply. “It’s a spotlight. And I don’t share my spotlight.”

Her pulse skipped. He meant it.

By mid-evening, the mansion was buzzing. Flashes went off every few seconds. Socialites whispered about their “romantic Paris proposal,” the elegant green gown, Julian’s smoldering charm.

“Honestly, I feel like we’re in a movie,” Zara whispered, ducking under a chandelier.

Julian’s arm brushed hers deliberately. “Except it’s a movie where I get to be possessive.”

She choked on her laugh. “Possessive? We’re pretending, remember?”

He leaned closer, voice low and smooth. “Are we?”

Zara swallowed hard. Please stop doing that to me, Julian.

Later, when the crowd momentarily shifted toward the champagne table, Julian guided Zara toward a balcony overlooking the city skyline.

The wind tugged at her dress. Lights twinkled below, the music and chatter muted by distance. It was intimate, stolen, and impossibly tense.

“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” he said softly, stepping closer.

“I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, heart hammering. “I’m… surviving your family’s mania.”

He chuckled slowly, brushing his thumb along her wrist. “Sure. That’s it.”

“You’re impossible,” she whispered.

“And you,” he countered, tilting her chin up, “are distracting me from everything I’m supposed to be doing right now.”

Her breath hitched. He’s not pretending anymore.

Lightning flashed across the distant sky, illuminating his face. He was breathtaking — dangerously close, eyes dark, lips just barely brushing hers as he whispered, “Zee…”

Her knees weakened, her chest ached. The world had narrowed to just the two of them.

“I—” she started, and the space between them grew electric.

Then, a sudden clatter — a champagne glass tipped inside the party — echoed through the mansion. Both of them jumped, breaking the spell.

Julian ran a hand down his face, groaning softly. “Always someone interrupting us.”

Zara laughed breathlessly, hiding a shiver that had nothing to do with the wind. “Maybe the universe doesn’t want us to kiss yet.”

“Maybe,” he said quietly, eyes lingering on hers. “Or maybe it’s giving us time to realize we’ve already crossed the line.”

The night stretched on. Every glance, every accidental brush of hands, every shared laugh in the chaos of the party hammered a single truth into both of them:

This wasn’t just pretending anymore.

Zara felt it in the way her chest tightened when Julian’s gaze found hers across the room.

Julian felt it in the heat that pooled in his veins every time she laughed, leaned toward him, or rolled her eyes at his teasing.

And neither of them could deny it.

Not tonight. Not ever.

Because when the world was watching, and everyone thought they were perfect together… the line between fake and real had already blurred.

And deep down, both of them knew: pretending was no longer an option.