Chapter four: Fake romance
1120 Words
After the dinner date, the evening air was cooler, wrapping the city in a light breeze that made everything feel more surreal than it was. Noah walked Elena to her car in silence, their previous conversation still lingering in the space between them. They both knew what came next—they had agreed on the plan to make their families believe something real had bloomed from this blind date. Pretending to be into each other? Easy. Making everyone believe it? That was the tricky part.
"Let me know when you get home," Noah said, slipping his hands into his pockets, the formality of his tone balanced by the gentleness in his eyes.
"I will," Elena replied with a small nod. Her keys jangled as she unlocked her door. Noah waited until she drove off, then turned and made his way to his car.
About twenty-five minutes later, Elena pulled into her parents’ driveway. The lights in the house were still on, and as soon as she stepped inside, her mother, Mrs. Rosita Carter, beamed from the couch.
"How did it go, my darling?" she asked, excitement bubbling in her voice.
"Honey, allow the young lady to cool off first," Mr. Carter interjected from behind his newspaper.
Elena paused halfway up the stairs, turning back to face them. “It wasn’t that bad,” she answered simply.
Just then, her phone rang.
“Oh, hello. Yes, I just got home,” she said as she continued up the stairs and into her room. “I enjoyed myself today. Thank you.”
Downstairs, Rosita chuckled like a teenager. “You see?” she said to her husband, nudging his shoulder. “She already found a partner! I knew it.”
“You need to take it easy on her,” Mr. Carter replied without looking up. “Let the girl breathe.”
Back at Noah’s house, his black car pulled into the wide driveway. The sleek gate rolled back quietly as the night stretched its arms across the city. The security guard opened the door, giving a respectful nod.
Before Noah could even step out of the car fully, his sister, Isabelle, was already at the door.
"Welcome, Noah. How did it go?" she asked, her breath slightly uneven. She must’ve run out the moment she heard the gate open.
Noah smirked slightly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t that bad.”
She narrowed her eyes curiously. “Not that bad?”
He stepped past her and dropped his keys into the bowl on the console near the entrance. “Actually… it was decent. Enjoyable even.”
Isabelle followed him inside. “That’s progress. So?”
“So what?” he asked, loosening his tie and walking toward the sitting room.
“Do I finally get to know if I was right or not?” she asked with a hopeful smile.
Noah turned, looking amused. “Right about what exactly?”
She threw a cushion at him, which he caught effortlessly. “Stop dodging. I mean, was there chemistry?”
Noah sighed, still wearing a calm expression. “She’s the bookkeeper’s niece.”
Isabelle blinked. “Wait—Aunt Helen’s niece? The woman who owns a bookshop down the street?”
Noah nodded. “Exactly".
“That’s so crazy!” Isabelle said. “I had no idea she was the same person. Aunt Helen never mentioned her name, just kept going on about how beautiful and smart her niece is.”
Noah smiled slightly. “Well, she wasn’t wrong.”
He pulled out his phone and dialled Elena’s number.
“Hi, honey. Have you gotten home?” he asked casually.
There was a slight pause.
“Oh really? Wow, I did enjoy myself too. Thank you for today.”
Another pause.
“Yes, yes. Alright. Talk to you later.” He ended the call and tossed the phone gently onto the couch.
“That was fast,” Isabelle remarked, eyebrows raised.
“Isn’t that what you want?” he asked.
Her expression softened into a smile. She didn’t answer with words, but her eyes said enough.
Isabelle curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow. “So, are you going to see her again?”
Noah shrugged. “We’ll see. Maybe. If things stay this smooth, I don’t mind.”
“Well, I hope it’s more than smooth,” Isabelle said. “You deserve someone who understands you. Someone who challenges you a little.”
Noah let her words hang in the air. He walked over to the window and looked out into the darkness, the hum of the city still faintly audible through the glass. It was funny how quickly things shifted. One minute, he was just agreeing to dinner as a formality; now, he was pretending to fall in love. Or maybe, just maybe, it was something in between. Not quite love. Not quite a game either.
Elena had been honest—open in a way that startled him. And while their arrangement was just a façade, he had to admit she wasn’t what he expected.
But this was all temporary. A means to an end. He reminded himself of that.
Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Elena lay across her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mind replayed the dinner, every word Noah had said, every subtle smile. He was sharp and careful with his words—just like her. And though they were only faking it, she couldn’t deny the ease of their conversation, the comfort in their silence.
Her phone buzzed again.
Noah: “Don’t forget we need to plan the next steps. Let’s text tomorrow?”
Elena: “Sure. Goodnight.”
She turned off her light and slid under the covers, letting out a long sigh.
Downstairs, Rosita was still pacing. “I should have gotten more details from her. Did she even kiss him goodnight?”
Mr. Carter folded his newspaper, finally setting it down. “Go to bed, Rosita.”
She grumbled but headed upstairs, a small smile on her face.
Back at Noah’s, he stood in front of the mirror in his room, unbuttoning his shirt. He thought again about Elena’s eyes—the way they almost filled with tears when she spoke about being hurt. The way she caught herself just in time.
She was strong. Maybe even too strong.
He set his shirt aside and climbed into bed, placing his phone on the nightstand.
It buzzed again.
Isabelle: “Don’t mess it up.”
Noah chuckled, replying with a thumbs-up emoji.
He lay back on the pillows, arms behind his head.
He wasn’t going to mess it up. After all, this was just a performance.
Only... he’d never played a role so well.
- Writer
