Chapter 15 #2
I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing the tears back down.
I can’t afford to fall apart here. Not when there are still cameras somewhere in this building.
Not when my entire world depends on looking unshakable.
My fingers dig into my side where I’ve pressed my hands too tightly against my ribs.
I can almost hear my mother’s voice in my head.
This is what you wanted, baby. A foot in the door. Don’t give them a reason to close it.
But this isn’t ambition anymore. It’s heartbreak disguised as professionalism.
It’s being handed everything I want—him, a chance, a story that almost felt real—and being told I can only have it if I pretend it means nothing.
This fake relationship isn’t a lifeline; it’s a cage with a spotlight. And I’m the one who has to build it.
Kyle’s face flashes in my mind, the way he looked at me during the press conference, like he’d burn the world down for me if I let him.
And that’s exactly why I can’t let him do it.
If I’m not careful, I’ll be the girl who costs Portland their golden boy.
The cautionary tale whispered about in locker rooms and comment sections.
So, I’ll draw the lines, even when they cut me open, because someone has to protect him from the fallout.
If this is what survival looks like, then I guess I’ll learn how to fake it, too.
Just when I think I’ve managed to hold myself together, I hear footsteps.
“Kyle, don’t—” Cole’s voice echoes faintly from down the hall, followed by a low curse. “Jesus, kid, wait.”
I think about walking faster, pretending I don’t hear him. But I turn before I can talk myself out of it, Kyle’s right there. He’s out of breath, eyes wild with something that looks like fury and heartbreak knotted together. Cole’s a few paces behind, smirking like he expected this exact outcome.
“Alycia.” His voice cracks on my name, “You’re not doing this.”
“Kyle, it’s done.”
“It’s not.” He steps closer, still radiating adrenaline. “You can’t just agree to lie to everyone, including yourself.”
“You think I have a choice?” I let out a hollow laugh that feels like splintered glass.
He frowns, eyes narrowing. “There’s always a choice.”
“Not when I’m the one who’ll take the fall. You’ll get headlines about redemption. I’ll get called a gold digger. The PR intern who couldn’t keep her legs shut.”
His face twists as if the words physically hurt him. “You think I’d let anyone—”
“You can’t stop them, Kyle.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. “You can’t fix this with a smile. The second this becomes about us, I’m done. If this lie keeps me safe—keeps you safe—then I’ll wear it like armor.”
“You don’t need armor with me.” He shakes his head, disbelieving.
“Maybe not, but I need it everywhere else.”
The silence hums between us, tangled with everything I’m too afraid to say. That I want him. This fake relationship is the cruelest punishment because now I’ll have to spend every day pretending I already have what I can never really keep.
“This isn’t survival,” he says finally, voice low, breaking. “It’s surrender.”
“And what would you call it when the alternative is losing everything?”
He doesn’t answer, and the look in his eyes tells me exactly why. He’d burn everything down before he’d let me fall with it. And that’s what terrifies me most because I know he means it.
Cole clears his throat from behind Kyle, the sound breaking through the tension like a slap. “You two done rewriting The Notebook in the hallway, or should I grab popcorn?”
“You think this is funny?” I shoot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood.
“Funny? No. Predictable? Absolutely.” Kyle shoots him a warning look, but Cole shrugs and continues. “Look, it’s messy, but it gives you both what you want.”
“What we want?” I repeat.
“You keep your job,” he says. “Kyle keeps his career intact. And both of you get a few weeks to figure out… whatever this is.”
“Faking a relationship won’t fix anything.”
“No,” Cole agrees, “but it buys time before it all blows up.”
Cole means well, but he doesn’t understand what he’s asking. Pretending to have Kyle—being near him, smiling for cameras, acting like I belong beside him—will break something inside me I’ll never get back.
“This is business.” I square my shoulders, forcing my voice to stay even. “That’s all it can be.”
Kyle’s head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing. “That’s not all it is.”
“It has to be,” I say, though my throat burns. “You’ll thank me when this is over.”
He studies me like he’s trying to find a crack in my armor, but I don’t let him see it. Because if I let even one bit of the truth slip through, we’ll both be out of a job, and worse, I’ll never be able to unfeel what he’s already made me want.
“You two get your stories straight before morning.” Cole clears his throat, breaking through the tension.
Kyle finally speaks, his words rough and frayed at the edges. “This isn’t business to me.”
His eyes are begging me not to say what’s already written between us.
There’s a flash of disbelief there, then something that looks dangerously close to hope, like he thinks I’ll take it back if he just stands still long enough.
Every part of me wants to reach for him, to smooth the furrow between his brows and tell him I don’t mean it.
That I’m scared. That this isn’t fair. But I can’t.
Instead, I force my voice out, quiet and even, when it feels like my whole body is shaking apart.
“It is now. See you at the next strategy meeting.”
The words taste like ash. A lie wrapped in duty.
I see my words hit him square in the chest—his shoulders tense, and the small flinch he tries to hide, like I just drew a line between us he can’t cross.
And for a moment, I almost crumble. I meant it when I said I wanted something real. But this is what real costs us.
His lips part to argue, but then he closes his mouth, jaw flexing, like the effort costs him more than he wants to admit. “See you then.”
Cole mutters something under his breath as he claps Kyle on the shoulder, steering him away. And then it’s just me, alone in the echo of what’s left. I press my hands against the wall, letting my head drop forward as the tears burn again.
This is what protecting someone looks like.
Pretending you’re fine while everything you want is ripped out from under you.
I want something real. And now, I’ll have to spend the rest of the season pretending like I already have it.
I’ll smile for the cameras and play the part while keeping my heart locked behind press releases and strategy notes.
The worst part is that he’ll believe me when I say it’s all fake, and that’s how I’ll lose him.