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"Aren’t you happy?" I ask, surprised by the melancholy in his voice.

"I'm... content," Adam replies carefully. "I love my job, I love working with you, I love the life we've built here. But sometimes I wonder if contentment is enough, or if I'm using it as an excuse to avoid taking risks."

"What kind of risks?"

"The kind that might lead to the kind of happiness we read about in books but never seem to experience ourselves like leaving and exploring the world.”

His words hit closer to home than I want to acknowledge. There's truth in what he's saying, we've both built comfortable lives that protect us from disappointment but also insulate us from possibility.

"Adam," I say suddenly, the idea crystallizing as I speak, "what if we went together?"

This is too much to handle. I have a feeling that Adam is saying something, something I really don't want to hear. It's one thing for him to go and find a mate, but leaving?Really? Is this what he desires so badly?

"Together?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Like... as friends?"

"Like as a couple," I clarify, feeling my heart race as the plan takes shape. "Think about it. We both have invitations. We're both terrified of the matching aspect. What if we went as each other's dates and avoided the whole thing entirely?"

Adam stares at me for a long moment, processing the suggestion. In the dim light, I can see the wheels turning in his mind, weighing the pros and cons of what I'm proposing.

"You mean fake dating," he says slowly.

"Exactly. We attend together, present ourselves as an established couple, enjoy the experience without any pressure to find our 'perfect matches' or participate in whatever matching ceremonies they have planned."

"That's..." Adam pauses, running his hand through his hair in the way he does when he's thinking hard about something. "That's actually not a terrible idea."

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, we know each other well enough to be convincing. We're comfortable together. And it would solve both our problems, because I'll attend without my mother assuming I'm actively pack-hunting, and you get to experience the ball without whatever pressure you're worried about."

Relief floods through me so intensely that I feel lightheaded. "So you'll do it?"

"I'll do it," Adam confirms, then grins. "How does one fake date with their best friend? Because I feel like there might be some acting involved that we're both crap at."

I laugh, remembering our last disastrous attempt at deception. "Remember when we tried to convince Mrs. Henderson that we were dating so she'd stop trying to set you up with her niece?"

Adam groans and covers his face. "Oh God, yes. You called me 'sweetie' and I physically recoiled like you'd slapped me."

"And then you tried to put your arm around me and somehow managed to elbow me in the ribs instead!"

"I panicked! You were standing closer than usual and I misjudged the distance!" Adam protests. "But you weren't any better. You tried to hold my hand and grabbed my wrist like you were checking my pulse."

"I was nervous! And then when she asked how long we'd been together, we both answered at the same time with completely different timelines."

"Three weeks!" Adam mimics in a high voice.

"Six months!" I counter in a deeper tone.

"And then we both just stood there staring at each other in horror while Mrs. Henderson looked between us like we'd lost our minds."

"She definitely didn't believe us. I think she felt sorry for us and stopped asking questions out of secondhand embarrassment."

"We are going to be terrible at this," Adam says, but he's still grinning.

“Yeah,” I agree. "But at least we'll fail together.”This time we’ll practice in advance, to prepare us for the event.”

“How?”

“We..” I pause, realizing I haven't thought this through as thoroughly as I probably should have. "Stand closer together? Hold hands? Look at each other like we're... romantically interested instead of platonically comfortable?"