The morning after the campaign video dropped, Ava avoided mirrors.

Every reflection reminded her of something she couldn’t control—the smile she didn’t mean, the look in his eyes, the way the world decided to believe in a story she didn’t write.

By nine, Chloe had already texted fifteen times.  

*We need brunch.*  

*Emergency brunch.*  

*Don’t say no, I already ordered mimosas.*

Ava gave up fighting fate.

Chloe was already waiting at the café, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown of chaos. When Ava walked in, the grin on her face could have powered a small city.

“Well, if it isn’t half of America’s favorite couple,” she said.  

“Don’t start.”  

“Oh, I’ve been starting since breakfast. I’ve seen the video six times. Accidentally, of course.”  

“Accidentally?”  

“It kept autoplaying. I had to respect the algorithm.”  

Ava dropped into the seat opposite her. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”  

“Absolutely. You’re living my favorite genre: enemies-to-lovers with corporate sponsorship.”  

“It’s not real.”  

“Neither is reality TV, but we still watch it.”  

“Chloe.”  

“What?”  

“Stop quoting the internet at me.”  

“Then stop living like a meme.”

The waiter set down their drinks. Chloe lifted her glass. “To fake love, real chaos.”  

Ava rolled her eyes but clinked anyway.

Halfway through brunch, Chloe leaned forward, eyes glinting. “So when are you introducing me to him?”  

Ava choked on her coffee. “What?”  

“Evan. The man, the myth, the photo filter.”  

“Never.”  

“Too bad. He’s already on his way.”  

Ava blinked. “You didn’t.”  

Chloe grinned, unrepentant. “I did.”  

At that exact moment, the café door opened. Evan walked in wearing a denim jacket and trouble.  

“Hey,” he said, spotting them. “Hope I’m not crashing.”  

“Oh, you’re exactly crashing,” Ava muttered.  

Chloe stood up and extended a hand. “So you’re the reason my best friend’s blood pressure is trending upward.”  

Evan shook her hand, amused. “And you must be the chaos consultant.”  

“I prefer truth advocate.”  

“Same difference.”  

Ava rubbed her temple. “This is a nightmare.”  

Chloe grinned. “Correction: this is brunch.”  

They ordered pancakes, though no one actually ate much. Chloe, predictably, steered every conversation toward Ava and Evan’s “relationship.”  

“So,” she said, cutting into her food, “who made the first move?”  

“No one,” Ava said immediately.  

Evan smiled. “Technically, the internet.”  

“Good answer,” Chloe said approvingly. “Now, on a scale from one to ten, how fake are we talking?”  

Ava glared. “One hundred.”  

Evan countered, “Eighty-seven. There’s some realism in the acting.”  

“Evan.”  

He smirked. “What? I’m just being transparent.”  

Chloe laughed so hard she nearly spilled her mimosa. “Oh, this is gold. I could sell tickets.”

Ava exhaled, half-annoyed, half-resigned. “Remind me why we’re friends again?”  

“Because I tell you what you don’t want to hear,” Chloe said.  

“And because she’s right,” Evan added.  

“Stay out of this.”  

“Can’t. Apparently, I’m half of your brand.”

After brunch, Chloe dragged them out for a walk, ignoring Ava’s protests. The sun was too bright, the world too loud, and Evan somehow ended up walking between them like an accidental referee.

“So,” Chloe began casually, “what’s your plan now? Keep faking it till the wedding photos?”  

“Funny,” Ava said.  

“I’m not joking.”  

Evan shrugged. “I’ll follow her lead.”  

“Bad choice,” Chloe said. “She’s emotionally constipated.”  

“Hey!” Ava snapped.  

Chloe shrugged. “Am I wrong?”  

Evan chuckled. “She did make a spreadsheet for fake relationship rules.”  

“It was for structure!”  

“It had subcategories.”  

Chloe gasped. “You color-coded your feelings?”  

“Both of you, stop talking.”  

They didn’t.

By the time they reached the park, Chloe had somehow convinced a street musician to play something “romantic” while she took photos.  

“Smile,” she ordered.  

“No.”  

“Do it for the content.”  

Evan leaned toward Ava. “She’s scarier than your boss.”  

“Don’t encourage her.”  

“Too late.”  

The musician started playing a slow tune, and Chloe snapped picture after picture.  

“Closer,” she said. “Pretend you like each other.”  

Evan whispered, “Pretend?”  

Ava shot him a look that could curdle milk.  

Chloe lowered the camera, studying the screen. “Hmm. Weird.”  

“What?” Ava asked.  

“It doesn’t look fake.”  

Ava turned away. “Delete it.”  

“Nope. Frame it.”  

They sat on a bench afterward, ice cream in hand because Chloe insisted “emotional regulation requires sugar.” Evan licked his spoon thoughtfully.  

“You know,” he said, “your friend’s terrifying.”  

“Thank you,” Chloe said brightly.  

“It wasn’t a compliment.”  

“It never is.”

Ava rubbed her forehead. “I can’t believe this day happened.”  

“Oh, it’s happening again,” Chloe said. “Next time, I’m inviting your PR team.”  

“Absolutely not.”  

Evan smirked. “I’ll bring my camera.”  

“Don’t you dare.”  

“Boundary test?”  

“Evan!”  

He laughed. “Fine, fine. Rule number three: don’t anger the best friend.”  

“Good luck,” Chloe said. “I invented anger.”  

When they finally parted ways, Chloe hugged Ava tight. “You know he likes you, right?”  

Ava stiffened. “He doesn’t.”  

“He does. It’s written all over his face every time he looks at you.”  

“That’s called acting.”  

“Then you’re both Oscar-worthy.”  

Ava sighed. “You’re insufferable.”  

“I’m right,” Chloe said, grinning. “Which is worse.”  

Evan waited by his motorcycle, helmet in hand.  

“How was that?” he asked.  

“Mortifying.”  

“Entertaining, though.”  

“Never again.”  

“We’ll see.”  

He handed her the helmet. “Boundary test?”  

She hesitated.  

He smiled. “Third time’s the charm.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t walk away either.