Page 51
Story: The #FakeBoyfriend Bet
"I'll come up with something suitably romantic," I promise, catching Lena's eye. A flash of something—vulnerability, maybe—crosses her face before her professional mask resettles.
The meeting wraps up with discussions of hashtags and embargo timing. As we exit the Luminous Beauty offices, Lena's hand finds mine, our fingers interlacing with practiced ease that no longer feels performed.
"Well, that was surreal," she says once we're in the elevator, mercifully alone.
"Understatement of the century." I pull her closer, needing the physical connection to ground me. "How do you feel about your impending fake engagement?"
She looks up at me, her expression softening. "Honestly? It's weird. But also..." She trails off, seeming unable to find the right words.
"Also?"
"Also not entirely terrible?" She winces, as if the admission pains her. "Is that crazy?"
"If it is, we're both crazy." I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. "But just to be clear, when I really propose someday, there won't be a photography team or drone shots or hashtag strategy meetings."
She stiffens slightly in my arms. "When you really propose?"
The elevator doors open before I can backpedal from the implication, saving me from digging the hole deeper. We step into the lobby, immediately switching to our public personas—still affectionate but more camera-ready, more conscious of potential eyes.
"So," Lena says as we exit the building, "we need to plan your proposal."
"My fake proposal," I clarify, perhaps unnecessarily.
"Right." She flags down a taxi. "But it needs to look real. Feel real."
"I'm aware of the irony," I say dryly as we slide into the backseat.
She gives the driver her address, then turns to me with the focused expression I've come to know means she's in planning mode. "We should brainstorm. Figure out what kind of proposal would be both photogenic and believable for us as a couple."
"You mean what kind of proposal would Max Donovan, smitten bartender, plan for Lena Carter, lifestyle influencer?"
"Exactly." She pulls out her phone, already creating a notes page. "Something that fits our public narrative but feels authentic."
I watch her, equal parts amused and unsettled by how easily she compartmentalizes. "You're really going to strategize this like a content campaign?"
She glances up, her expression softening. "I know it's weird. But this is my world, Max. Planning, optimizing, creating moments that resonate with an audience." She reaches for my hand. "It doesn't make what's between us any less real."
"I know." I squeeze her fingers, acknowledging the strange dance we're doing. "So what's your vision for this perfectly orchestrated romantic milestone?"
"Traditional but with a twist," she says, warming to the topic. "Something that honors the conventional aspects people expect—down on one knee, heartfelt speech, ring—but with unique elements that make it distinctly us."
"Like what?" I'm genuinely curious now, wondering how she sees us as a couple.
"That's where you come in." She nudges my shoulder. "What would make it uniquely Max?"
I ponder this as the taxi navigates midtown traffic. What would make a proposal uniquely me? More importantly, what would make it meaningful to Lena—not Influencer Lena, but the real woman who's afraid of geese and can't whistle?
"Let me think about it," I say finally. "If I'm going to plan a fake proposal, I want to do it right."
She studies my face, seeming to understand the complexity beneath my casual tone. "Okay. But remember we need to finalize the plan soon for the photography team to prepare."
"The romance of modern relationships," I quip, but there's no real bite to it. We're both playing the game we agreed to, strange as it may be.
The next three weeks pass in a blur of planning meetings and preparation. Luminous Beauty selects a specific area of Brooklyn Bridge Park for optimal sunset lighting and city backdrop. A photographer walks us through the positioning, the ring handoff, the best angle for Lena's reaction. A social media coordinator discusses the timing of posts and the content strategy for the "journey to yes."
Through it all, I'm developing my own plan—one that adheres to their requirements while incorporating elements that will surprise Lena, make her genuinely laugh, remind her that even in this orchestrated moment, there's something real at the core.
The day of the proposal dawns clear and bright, promising the perfect sunset Victoria has demanded. Lena is whisked away early for hair, makeup, and styling, while I'm left to prepare on my own, with instructions to arrive at the park by 5 PM for final coordination.
The meeting wraps up with discussions of hashtags and embargo timing. As we exit the Luminous Beauty offices, Lena's hand finds mine, our fingers interlacing with practiced ease that no longer feels performed.
"Well, that was surreal," she says once we're in the elevator, mercifully alone.
"Understatement of the century." I pull her closer, needing the physical connection to ground me. "How do you feel about your impending fake engagement?"
She looks up at me, her expression softening. "Honestly? It's weird. But also..." She trails off, seeming unable to find the right words.
"Also?"
"Also not entirely terrible?" She winces, as if the admission pains her. "Is that crazy?"
"If it is, we're both crazy." I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. "But just to be clear, when I really propose someday, there won't be a photography team or drone shots or hashtag strategy meetings."
She stiffens slightly in my arms. "When you really propose?"
The elevator doors open before I can backpedal from the implication, saving me from digging the hole deeper. We step into the lobby, immediately switching to our public personas—still affectionate but more camera-ready, more conscious of potential eyes.
"So," Lena says as we exit the building, "we need to plan your proposal."
"My fake proposal," I clarify, perhaps unnecessarily.
"Right." She flags down a taxi. "But it needs to look real. Feel real."
"I'm aware of the irony," I say dryly as we slide into the backseat.
She gives the driver her address, then turns to me with the focused expression I've come to know means she's in planning mode. "We should brainstorm. Figure out what kind of proposal would be both photogenic and believable for us as a couple."
"You mean what kind of proposal would Max Donovan, smitten bartender, plan for Lena Carter, lifestyle influencer?"
"Exactly." She pulls out her phone, already creating a notes page. "Something that fits our public narrative but feels authentic."
I watch her, equal parts amused and unsettled by how easily she compartmentalizes. "You're really going to strategize this like a content campaign?"
She glances up, her expression softening. "I know it's weird. But this is my world, Max. Planning, optimizing, creating moments that resonate with an audience." She reaches for my hand. "It doesn't make what's between us any less real."
"I know." I squeeze her fingers, acknowledging the strange dance we're doing. "So what's your vision for this perfectly orchestrated romantic milestone?"
"Traditional but with a twist," she says, warming to the topic. "Something that honors the conventional aspects people expect—down on one knee, heartfelt speech, ring—but with unique elements that make it distinctly us."
"Like what?" I'm genuinely curious now, wondering how she sees us as a couple.
"That's where you come in." She nudges my shoulder. "What would make it uniquely Max?"
I ponder this as the taxi navigates midtown traffic. What would make a proposal uniquely me? More importantly, what would make it meaningful to Lena—not Influencer Lena, but the real woman who's afraid of geese and can't whistle?
"Let me think about it," I say finally. "If I'm going to plan a fake proposal, I want to do it right."
She studies my face, seeming to understand the complexity beneath my casual tone. "Okay. But remember we need to finalize the plan soon for the photography team to prepare."
"The romance of modern relationships," I quip, but there's no real bite to it. We're both playing the game we agreed to, strange as it may be.
The next three weeks pass in a blur of planning meetings and preparation. Luminous Beauty selects a specific area of Brooklyn Bridge Park for optimal sunset lighting and city backdrop. A photographer walks us through the positioning, the ring handoff, the best angle for Lena's reaction. A social media coordinator discusses the timing of posts and the content strategy for the "journey to yes."
Through it all, I'm developing my own plan—one that adheres to their requirements while incorporating elements that will surprise Lena, make her genuinely laugh, remind her that even in this orchestrated moment, there's something real at the core.
The day of the proposal dawns clear and bright, promising the perfect sunset Victoria has demanded. Lena is whisked away early for hair, makeup, and styling, while I'm left to prepare on my own, with instructions to arrive at the park by 5 PM for final coordination.
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