I stare at the message for a solid minute, my brain trying to make sense of it. Nice try, Cleo. But I'm not going to let you get away with this.
The words don't make sense. Who could be sending this? I'm already deep into pretending to be Eli's girlfriend, so what could anyone possibly want to "get away with"?
I glance up at Eli, who's halfway through a conversation with the guy sitting next to us—some old family friend who's been eyeing me like I'm a piece of overpriced wedding cake.
I hold my phone tighter, like it might jump out of my hand and run off to do something useful, like solve this mystery. The message is from an unknown number, so I don't have a single clue about who's behind it.
"I don't know who this is," I mutter to myself.
"What?" Eli asks, turning toward me. His face is all concern as he notices the tension in my posture.
"Nothing," I say quickly, slipping my phone back into my purse. "It's just… a spam message. You know how those go."
"Mm-hmm," Eli hums, not entirely buying it. But instead of pressing the issue, he just gives me that half-grin of his, the one he probably saves for moments when he's trying to seem like a human being. "You good?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, plastering on a fake smile and leaning back in my chair. "Just… you know, wedding stuff. Makes my brain itch."
"Tell me about it," he chuckles, then nods toward the wedding party. "If I have to listen to my mom talk about flower arrangements one more time, I'm going to start using the centerpieces as pillows."
I laugh, glad for the change in subject. For a moment, the tension lifts, and I can almost pretend we're here for fun, instead of being forced into an incredibly awkward scenario where everything is high-stakes, including the wedding cake.
Just then, the music shifts, and the DJ announces it's time for the first dance. The crowd moves toward the dance floor like they've been waiting for this moment since they put on their fancy shoes.
Eli, who's been swirling his glass of water like it holds the secrets of the universe, nudges me. "You wanna dance?"
I blink at him. "Dance? You've seen me move, right? I trip over my own feet when I'm walking."
He gives me that mischievous grin. "I'm not asking for a Broadway number, Cleo. Just a slow dance. You know, pretend to enjoy yourself."
I roll my eyes but stand up anyway, because apparently, I've signed up for every form of humiliation this evening. "Fine. But if you step on my feet, I swear, I'll make you pay for it."
"Deal," Eli says with a shrug, offering me his hand like we're about to embark on some secret mission.
The dance floor is crowded, but we find a spot near the edge, where it's quieter, and I'm far enough from the endless eyes of the guests. Eli's hand settles on my waist, and I feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of my dress. I look up at him, and for a second, we're both just standing there, staring at each other, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this whole thing is.
"What are we doing?" I ask in a hushed voice, still not quite sure how this is supposed to work. Do we just sway back and forth like we know what we're doing? Do we talk about our feelings? (God, please no.)
"Just… pretend to be a couple. It's easy," Eli replies, his tone serious but teasing.
"Yeah, right," I mutter. "This is literally the opposite of easy."
Eli steps back, making me spin in a tight circle, his grip on my hand firm but gentle. And for a second—just a second—I get this weird feeling that we're actually kind of good at this. Like maybe we could pull it off.
"See? You're doing fine," he says, his voice suddenly softer.
The compliment catches me off guard. I mean, Eli's a charming guy, but he doesn't exactly hand out praise like candy. I try not to think too much about it. "I'm just waiting for you to step on my feet," I reply, trying to make light of the moment.
Eli laughs. "I'll try my best not to ruin this. You don't need any extra bruises."
As we continue to move in sync, I start to notice how close we are. I mean, we're just two people pretending, right? But there's something oddly comfortable about it, something almost natural in the way our bodies fit together.
And then, like clockwork, I feel it—someone is watching us. My stomach sinks, and I try to ignore the sensation that's creeping up my spine. I glance over Eli's shoulder, and that's when I spot him.
Lucas.
My ex. The guy who dumped me before I could even figure out where we stood. The guy who walked out of my life without even giving me a reason.
And now, here he is, standing at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes locked on me like he's just spotted a ghost.
I freeze mid-step, caught between panic and disbelief. Eli, sensing the shift in my energy, looks up.
"Are you okay?" His voice is low, barely audible over the music. "What's going on?"
But I can't answer him right away. All I can do is watch as Lucas takes a few steps toward us, his expression unreadable, his jaw set in that way that makes him look like he's about to say something he'll regret.
This is not happening, I think to myself.
But it is.
Lucas approaches us, and just as I brace myself for whatever's coming next, I feel Eli's hand tighten around mine, pulling me a little closer.
"What's up?" Eli asks, his tone casual but sharp enough to let Lucas know he's not here for any drama.
Lucas hesitates, clearly thrown off by Eli's protective stance. "I—I didn't expect to see you here, Cleo."
I want to laugh because that's the understatement of the century. "Yeah, well, it's not like I expected to see you here either."
There's a moment of silence. And then, Lucas finally speaks, his voice low but tense.
"I need to talk to you," he says, looking at me with a hint of... guilt? Regret? Something I can't quite pin down.
I glance at Eli, then back at Lucas. I'm not sure what's worse—having this conversation in front of everyone, or running off to a corner to have a private discussion where it might just get weirder.
I look back at Eli. He's studying me, waiting for a signal, like he's ready to step in and take charge if necessary.
I finally exhale, looking back at Lucas. "I don't think now's the best time."
And with that, I pull Eli closer, hoping the awkwardness will just disappear.
Lucas doesn't move. Instead, he stays rooted to the spot, watching us. And I can see it in his eyes—he's about to say something, something that will change everything.
But just as I open my mouth to tell him to back off, the music shifts again, louder now, and everyone on the dance floor begins to cheer. They're all clapping. They're all looking right at us.
And then, out of nowhere, Eli leans in and whispers in my ear: "Let's make them all believe we're the happiest couple here."
Before I can respond, he pulls me into a kiss, and the entire world seems to fade away.