I pushed the door shut behind me and the latch clicked louder than it should have in the quiet apartment. The lights were off except for the faint glow from the street spilling across the floor. I leaned my back against the wall and let out a long breath that trembled more than I wanted it to.
My chest felt too tight. My face felt too warm. I lifted my fingers to my lips without even thinking, then cursed under my breath when I realized what I was doing. I dropped my hand, tried to laugh at myself, but the heat rising in my cheeks made the sound weak and thin.
It was just a kiss. That was what I told myself. Nothing important. Nothing to think about. Just a moment to sell the act to Jessica. Matteo needed credibility. Matteo needed backup. Matteo needed someone who would not make things complicated.
I pushed away from the wall, headed to the kitchen, and filled a glass at the sink. The water looked steady. My hand did not. I took a few deep gulps, hoping the cold would do something to my pulse. It did not.
I set the glass down and leaned on the counter.
It was nothing.
Only a fake kiss.
Only part of the game.
I kept repeating it like I could convince myself if I said it enough times. Yet the memory rose anyway, soft and warm and real. The faint pressure of his hand on my jaw. The quiet breath he drew right before his lips met mine. The way his mouth felt, gentle but sure, like he had done it without overthinking.
And that low Thank you he whispered after.
That did not sound fake at all.
I shook my head, tried to push it out of my mind, but the thoughts kept circling back. If he was straight, why did it feel like that. Why did he kiss me like that. Why did he look at me like he wanted it to work. I knew the answer. I already knew it. He did not want it. He only needed it.
His friends had been teasing him for weeks.Telling him he looked stiff and confused whenever I stood near him. And Jessica had been getting worse. Matteo told me one night during dinner, while he picked at his pasta with that tired look in his eyes. She gets angry every time she sees me. She sends paragraphs at midnight. She comes to my room without warning. I just want peace for a while.
I understood that. I really did.
He was not ready for another relationship and he did not want to be dragged back into the old one. He needed a buffer. He needed a distraction. I was an easy solution. A safe solution.
I pressed the glass to my forehead, eyes closed.
So it made sense. All of this made sense. On paper it made sense.But my body did not care about paper. My body cared about the feeling that had not left me since I walked out his door.
I went to my room and sat on the edge of the bed. I tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling. My heartbeat was still too fast. My lips still felt warm. I let out a shaky breath and whispered to myself.
What am I doing.
The room stayed silent, like it was waiting for an answer I could not give.
My mind drifted back to the moment in the elevator earlier that night. The way Matteo kept glancing at me with that soft smile that he pretended was casual. The way he stood just a little too close. The way his voice got quieter every time he said fake boyfriend like there was something dangerous underneath it.
Am I being delusional. Probably.
I lay back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling fan. My hand slid slowly over my stomach, almost hesitant. I remembered the way he had touched my jaw. I remembered the way he whispered thank you in that low voice. I remembered how he sat beside me on the couch, thigh brushing mine, breath warm against my cheek.
My stomach tightened. That warmth turned into something heavier and more urgent. I bit my lower lip and let my hand drift lower. The pressure beneath my sweatpants grew almost immediately and I exhaled through my teeth.
This was stupid. Matteo was not into me. Matteo was only acting. Matteo had never looked at a man like that. Except he did look at me tonight. At least it felt like he did. And God, that was enough to make my body react before my brain could stop it.
I slid my hand over the fabric, slow and uncertain. A small sound escaped my throat. I tried to swallow it back but the feeling was too sharp. I closed my eyes as my fingers pressed down a little more firmly over my bulge. My hips lifted instinctively into the movement.
I should not be doing this. I knew it. I knew this was asking for trouble. I knew I was feeding something that would only hurt later. But the fantasy rose up anyway, uninvited and unstoppable.
I imagined him kissing me again, this time without Jessica watching from the other room. I imagined him taking my face in his hands with that same gentle confidence. I imagined him pushing me against the wall and whispering the kind of reckless things that had flashed through my mind ever since he smiled at me in the elevator.
You are mine.
A quiet breath left me. I pressed harder for one long second, my back arching, pleasure curling through my stomach.
Then I stopped.
The shock of almost losing control made me sit up quickly. My face burned. I covered my eyes with both hands and laughed once, softly and helplessly.
You are fucking insane, Adrian
I fell back onto the pillow again, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I stared at the ceiling and tried to calm myself. I should stop this. I should back out before it gets worse. I should protect myself. That was the responsible thing to do.
But the idea of telling Matteo no made my stomach twist in another way. I did not want to do it. I did not even want to pretend I could.
My phone buzzed beside me.
I flinched at the sound, grabbed it too fast, and almost dropped it. My heart leapt when I saw the name on the screen.
Matteo.
The message was short.
Hey fake boyfriend. Can I take you on a date this Saturday
I stared at it, unable to breathe for a moment.
A second bubble popped up.
Beach day. For the act obviously. 😏
My hand loosened around the phone and I let out a quiet, nervous laugh. I typed before my brain could catch up.
A date sounds nice.
He replied almost instantly.
Good. Wear something hot.
I lay there staring at the ceiling with a ridiculous smile on my face. I knew this was dangerous. I knew I was in trouble. But my chest felt warm and full and stupidly alive.
I set the phone down, turned off the lamp, and closed my eyes.
It is only a beach day. Only for the act. Only pretend.
But the smile stretching across my face in the dark said the truth I could not admit out loud.
I am already falling.
──────
Saturday arrived far too quickly.
I woke up late in the morning but already felt restless. My stomach was tight with something half excitement and half dread. I kept telling myself it was only a beach day with Matteo’s friends, nothing dramatic, nothing intimate, nothing that should make my pulse feel like a trapped bird. But my hands shook a little as I opened my closet.
I pulled out a loose shirt with a soft tropical print. Then a pair of casual beach shorts that fit well but not too well. Sunglasses. Light cologne. Sunscreen. I laid everything on the bed and stared at it like I had accidentally confessed something by choosing it carefully.
Look hot. Matteo had said that. Half teasing. Half serious.
I shook my head and picked up the sunscreen. Chill. It is only his friends. It is only the act. It is only pretend. I repeated it each time I tugged on a shoe or smoothed my shirt or checked my reflection. The words did nothing.
By the time I reached the beach in the late afternoon sun, my pulse was still too high. The air smelled like salt and sunscreen and warm sand. People were scattered in groups, laughing, grilling, playing music. I stepped down onto the sand and scanned for Matteo.
I found him instantly.
He stood near a group of friends, laughing at something one of them said. He was shirtless, wearing bright red shorts that clung to his hips and thighs in a way that made my breath catch. The sun lit his skin in a golden glow, highlighting the smooth lines of his chest and the tight definition of his abs. He looked warm and alive and impossible. His shoulders glistened faintly with sweat. His curls were messy from the wind. His smile was too bright.
I forgot how to breathe for a second.
Then he saw me. His whole face lit up.
He lifted a hand and called out, loud and cheerful.
Babe. Over here.
The word hit me in the chest like something physical. A few people turned. They looked at me, then him, then back at me with those playful, curious smiles. I swallowed and walked over, trying to keep my steps steady.
One of his friends reached me first, a guy with a surfer kind of grin. He pulled me in for a quick hug before I could react.
“So this is the famous boyfriend. He is even cuter in real life.”
Another guy whistled. Someone else laughed and said I looked like Matteo had been hiding me out of fear of getting robbed.
Then the question came, loud and eager.
“How long have you two been dating”
Matteo paused just long enough for me to panic. Then he slid an arm around my waist with that easy confidence he always had when he stepped into the act. His hand rested low, warm, steady, possessive.
Since last month. We started as coworkers and best friends but we never knew that things would go this way. He said it with a shy kind of grin that made it sound genuine.
My knees nearly gave out.
A few people laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Someone made a teasing comment about how fast it happened. Matteo kept smiling and kept his arm around me until the attention drifted somewhere else.
Then he leaned close to my ear.
“You look good.”
The simple sentence went straight to my chest. I tried not to show it.
We settled on a blanket near the water. It was small, clearly not meant for two people. Matteo sat down first, then patted the spot beside him with a casual little smile. I lowered myself onto the fabric and instantly felt our thighs press together. His skin was warm, sun kissed, smooth. I tried not to move away too fast. I tried not to stare at his chest but I could see the rise and fall of each breath from the corner of my eye.
He stretched backward with his hands behind him, long and loose, abs tightening slightly. I swallowed and tried to look at the ocean instead of the way the light curved over him.
Of course I failed.
We were talking quietly when one of the guys yelled from a short distance.
“Yo Matteo. Get your boyfriend to rub sunscreen on you. You two are glowing already.”
Matteo laughed and called back.
“This is why I brought him.”
He grabbed the bottle of sunscreen and placed it in my lap. His hand brushed my thigh. It lingered one second too long.
My breath stuttered.
He sat down with his back facing me, legs stretched out on the blanket, and said in a soft voice that made my stomach twist.
“Be gentle. My skin burns easy.”
I knelt behind him, feeling clumsy, then squeezed sunscreen onto my palms. My hands trembled as I spread it across his shoulders. His muscles were warm and broad under my touch. The curve of his neck was smooth. His skin smelled like salt and something faintly sweet.
I moved slowly, careful circles over the top of his back. He exhaled, quiet and low, almost like he did not mean to let the sound out. I felt it across my whole spine.
His friends whooped and teased from somewhere behind us. Matteo only smiled.
I worked down from his shoulders to the middle of his back. His muscles tensed slightly under my hands, then relaxed. His curls brushed the top of my wrist when the wind shifted. He turned his head just enough to look at me over his shoulder and gave me a half smile. It was soft and intimate and far too real.
Then he said quietly.
“My turn. Let me get yours."
I froze. Before I could answer, he was already turning and reaching for me. I sat in front of him, feeling the sun warm my chest as I pulled my shirt off. I was fit enough but nothing like him. I felt a little exposed. But Matteo did not tease. He did not even blink.
He rubbed the sunscreen between his palms and placed his hands on my back. His touch was slow and careful. Warm fingers slid down my spine. His thumbs moved in firm lines over my shoulders. Goosebumps rose along my arms.
The background noise faded as he continued, slow and steady. For a moment it felt like there were no friends watching, no act being performed, no reason to pretend.
Only his touch.
One of the guys cheered loudly. Another told Matteo he was being too gentle. Matteo laughed, leaned in, and snapped a quick picture of me.
Perfect. He said.
He stood then as his friends called him over for a volleyball game. He stretched his arms up in the air, chest lifting, abs tight. Then he looked down at me with a grin.
“Relax and enjoy. Watch me win.”
He jogged over to the group. I watched him go, unable to look away from the way his body moved, all easy confidence and athletic grace. He joined the game with a laugh, jumped for the ball, shouted something cheerful, and blended into the circle of people like sunlight.
I checked my phone just to distract myself. Notifications popped up. Instagram. Matteo posted something. I clicked on it.
My breath stopped.
The photo he took. Him rubbing sunscreen on me. His hands on my back. It looked intimate. It looked real.
The caption read:
Boyfriend Beach Weekend ☀️❤️
My mouth went dry.
It felt like a soft public launch. As if he was making things official.
I stared at the screen until everything else faded.
My thoughts spun. This is more than Jessica. More than an excuse. More than one beach day. Matteo was showing me off. Matteo wanted people to see. Matteo wanted this image to exist.
I tried to breathe. I tried to make sense of it. I whispered to myself.
‘What the fuck are we doing.’
The volleyball game continued. People laughed. Matteo spiked the ball with a playful shout. Then he looked back toward me. His smile widened. He raised his hand and waved.
A simple gesture. Warm. Bright. Full of something I was afraid to name.
I lifted my hand and waved back. My heart pounded so hard it felt visible.
I sat there on the blanket, watching him, feeling the warmth of his gaze from across the sand like it reached me physically. Everything inside me felt too full. Too alive. Too dangerous.
I knew I should protect myself. I knew I should slow down. I knew I should remind myself that this was pretend. Only pretend.
But as I watched Matteo laugh under the sun, moving with that effortless charm, looking at me like I was the only person he cared to impress, one quiet thought settled in my chest.
I had to say yes to his ‘fake boyfriend’ act. I had to play along. Why would I not?
If being near him feels like this, how could I ever walk away.
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