Chapter 15 #2
“True,” I thought of the casual touches that were beginning to feel less like performance and more like preference. “But we should probably take some shots before the main event. Test lighting, figure out our best angles, make sure we can look convincingly romantic on command.”
“Your place or mine?” Finn asked, then seemed to realize how that sounded, his cheeks darkening. “For the photo session, I mean.”
“Mine probably makes more sense. Better light in the backyard if we need to control the environment.” I paused, then added, “plus it’ll give us a chance to work on our domestic bliss aesthetic.”
The phrase came out more loaded than I’d intended, and Finn’s expression shifted slightly. Like he was processing the same undercurrent I was trying to ignore.
“Domestic bliss,” he repeated, voice carefully neutral. “I can manage that.”
My pulse quickened at his tone, but before I could examine it too closely, a barista appeared in the background of his video, effectively ending our planning session.
“I should go,” Finn glanced around the coffee shop. “But this was good. Helpful.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, though I wasn’t entirely sure what we’d accomplished beyond confirming that we needed to take photos together. “I’ll text you some dates that work for me.”
“Looking forward to it,” the sincerity in his voice made me believe he actually meant it. “Now go home, you workaholic.”
After he signed off, I sat in my office staring at my reflection in the now-black laptop screen. The photo session was practical. Necessary for maintaining our arrangement. There was no reason why the thought of deliberately creating romantic images with Finn should make my hands feel unsteady.
But as I typed potential dates into my calendar, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was setting myself up for something that had very little to do with fooling our families and everything to do with testing how real I could make this look without admitting it’s what I wanted.
Finn arrived the morning before the family engagement party, stepping out of his rideshare with a small duffel bag and a hint of nervous energy.
The sunlight reflected off his dark lenses, and I registered the deliberate way he’d dressed.
Dark jeans, soft gray henley that emphasized his shoulders, worn leather boots, and hair pulled back to show the line of his jaw despite the beard.
“Ready for our debut as a photogenic couple?” He stepped inside, dropping a kiss on my cheek.
“I’ve been researching optimal lighting conditions,” I closed the door behind him. “Apparently golden hour really is a thing.”
He laughed, the sound filling my entryway and making the space feel more complete. “Dom would be so proud.”
I’d spent the previous evening planning our route to Bell Canyon, mapping the short hike that would give us plenty of scenic backdrops without overwhelming Finn’s stamina or inducing my tendency to get bored on hikes.
I’d already cleared my day, a luxury I rarely allowed myself, but the photo session felt important enough to justify.
“How’s your head today?” I asked as we loaded water bottles and some snacks into a small backpack.
I’d chosen my outfit carefully. Navy blue ripstop leggings that moved like second skin, a soft high-neck tank in sage green layered under a linen shirt jacket I could tie around my waist when the sun climbed higher.
My most comfortable hiking sneakers and a wide-brim woven sun hat completed the look.
Practical enough for the trail, put-together enough for photos that could end up on social media.
“Great. Clear,” he adjusted the bag’s weight across his shoulders, testing. “My doctor finally prescribed preventative meds at my last check-up. Took the Catalyst episode to convince him I needed them. Weather’s perfect too, so I should be fine.”
The drive to the trailhead was filled with easy conversation about his flight, my work week, the logistics of the engagement party. Normal relationship talk that felt surprisingly unforced. When I pulled into the parking area, the sun was near its highest point in the sky.
The trail wound upward through scrub oak and wildflowers, the cool mountain air of May carrying the scent of sage and new growth.
Finn moved carefully but steadily beside me, his breathing even despite the elevation gain.
I cataloged details automatically; the way his left hand occasionally brushed against mine as we walked, how he instinctively positioned himself on the uphill side when the path narrowed, how his eyes scanned the trail ahead even when he was telling me a story.
“Here,” I stopped at an overlook where the valley spread below us, mountains rising in blue-hazed layers toward the horizon. “This should work.”
I pulled out my phone and hesitated, the reason for our outing suddenly feeling less straightforward now that we were here, alone together in a place that looked genuinely romantic.
“So,” Finn pulled off his sunglasses and hooked them in the front of his shirt, “how do we do this without it being weird?”
“I have no idea,” I bit my lip. “I’ve never staged fake relationship photos before.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m quick at figuring things out,” he moved closer, lifting my hat and letting it hang by the straps behind me, before fixing the hair around my face. “What feels natural?”
Natural. The word lodged itself in my brain as I raised my phone, trying to frame us against the mountain backdrop.
Through the screen, we looked like any other couple pausing to document a shared adventure, except for the measured space I was maintaining between our bodies.
Finn’s smile looked slightly stiff rather than genuine.
“This looks forced,” I frowned, lowering the phone.
“Because it is forced,” Finn’s voice carried his dry humor I was starting to love. “Maybe we approach it differently. What would we be doing if we were here together and not thinking about photos?”
I considered this, looking out over the view. “Probably just... enjoying the view. Talking.”
“Then let’s do that,” he settled onto a flat rock, patting the space beside him. “Tell me something I don’t know about you yet.”
The simplicity of the suggestion disarmed me. I sat down, leaving less space between us this time, and felt my shoulders relax as the pressure eased.
“I used to draw,” I admitted after a moment of contemplation. “Landscapes like this. With alcohol markers, mostly since they were easy to carry and easy to blend.”
“Used to?”
“College and a little after. I was decent at it, but not great. Good enough for my friends and family to fawn over, not disciplined enough to make a living at it.” I gestured toward the valley below. “This light, though. I’d have loved trying to capture that color transition.”
Finn was quiet for a moment, following my gaze. “What stopped you?”
“Life. Work. The practical stuff took over,” I shrugged, then added more honestly. “And Graham hated the mess. Said the art supplies cluttered up my apartment.”
“Graham can jump off a cliff,” the certainty in his voice made me turn toward him. “You should start again.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. You should.” His expression held protective edge I’d noticed whenever Graham or my own noncommittal self-doubt came up in conversation. “When’s the last time you did something just because you enjoyed it?”
His question hit deeper than I wanted to admit. I couldn’t remember. Everything in my life served a purpose, solved a problem, moved something forward. Even my hobbies had practical applications. If I couldn’t capitalize on it in some secondary way, I didn’t make time for it.
“See?” Finn whispered. “That’s not okay.”
My throat tightened and I raised my phone again, needing the barrier of the camera between us.
“We should probably…”
“Alex,” his hand covered mine, gently taking the phone from my fingers. “Look at me.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes, and the careful distance we’d been maintaining suddenly felt absurd.
This close, I could see the faint lines that bracketed his mouth and flecks of gold in the amber brown of his eyes, catch the bergamot scent of his soap, feel the steady warmth of his palm against my hand.
“Better,” his gaze softened, and somehow I knew he wasn’t talking about the photos anymore.
I barely noticed as he found the shutter release. I pulled back, breathless, the soft click breaking the spell between us.
“Did we get it?” Finn’s voice was carefully neutral.
I looked at the phone screen. The image showed us in profile, heads close together, my hand I didn’t remember moving resting against his chest. My expression looked soft in a way I rarely saw in photos of myself, and Finn’s smile held a warmth that had nothing to do with performance.
“Yeah,” I nodded, voice slightly rough. “We got it.”
We took more photos as the afternoon progressed, the initial awkwardness fading as we found our rhythm.
Finn’s hands on my shoulders as I pointed out landmarks.
My fingers laced through his as we navigated a steeper section of trail.
Both of us laughing at some absurd reference I’d made, the camera catching genuine moments before we remembered we were supposed to be documenting our fake romance.
By the time we hiked back to the car, my phone contained over a dozen images that told the story of two people completely at ease together. Comfortable. Happy. Real.
“These are nice,” Finn commented as we scrolled through them in the parking lot. “Very convincing.”
“Very,” I agreed, trying to ignore how his use of the word “convincing” felt like a small disappointment.
The drive home was quieter, both of us processing our time on the mountainside. As I pulled into my driveway, Finn’s hand settled briefly over mine on the gear shift.
“Alex,” he started, then seemed to reconsider whatever he’d been about to say. “Thanks. For today. It was a lot of fun.”
The weight in his voice suggested he meant more than just the photo session, but I wasn’t ready to examine what that might include.
“Thank you too,” I offered. “For being so... easy about it.”
He smiled, but something in his expression looked almost sad. “Easy. Right.” A beat later he added, “you know me. Totally easy. Part of my plan to compromise you.”
I huffed a small smile at his wink, realizing he’d finally revealed his armor.
He gathered his things and headed inside.
I sat in the car for an extra moment, swiping through the photos.
In every single one, we looked like a couple completely gone for each other.
Either we were better at pretending than I’d given us credit for, or we’d forgotten we were acting somewhere between the trailhead and the overlook.