Chapter 10
By the second week of fake dating Lucas Cooper, Sabrina's life barely resembled her old one anymore.
There were photographers outside her apartment at least twice a week now.
Her Instagram follower count had passed two hundred thousand.
Random people online argued daily over whether she and Lucas were secretly engaged based entirely on blurry paparazzi pictures.
And somehow worst of all, Sabrina had started getting used to Lucas being around.
That part felt particularly dangerous.
"You're smiling at your phone again," Chloe announced from across the apartment.
Sabrina looked up immediately. "I'm literally not."
"You literally are."
Traitor.
She looked back down at the screen anyway.
Lucas: Adrian says we should post something together soon.
Sabrina: Romantic.
Lucas: Try sounding more excited.
Sabrina: I'd rather fight a bear.
Three dots appeared.
Lucas: Depends. Is the bear trained by paparazzi?
Sabrina laughed before she could stop herself.
"Oh my God," Chloe groaned dramatically. "You're flirting."
"We're texting."
"You smiled at the phone."
"He said something mildly entertaining."
"That's how it starts."
Sabrina threw a pillow at her.
Unfortunately Chloe wasn't entirely wrong.
Somewhere between late-night diners, constant events, and sarcastic text conversations, Lucas had become easier around her too.
He called more now.
Not always for publicity reasons.
Sometimes just because.
And those conversations were quickly becoming Sabrina's favorite part of the day.
Which felt like a serious problem.
Especially because Lucas himself remained frustratingly hard to read.
One night he'd open up unexpectedly about childhood memories or career pressure. The next he'd become distant again like the conversation never happened.
Like vulnerability embarrassed him after the fact.
It drove her insane.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lucas: Adrian scheduled lunch tomorrow with sponsors.
Lucas: Apologize in advance.
Sabrina smiled.
Sabrina: Should I wear funeral clothes?
Lucas: Probably.
The next day's lunch took place at a rooftop restaurant filled with executives who used words like branding unironically.
Sabrina hated all of them immediately.
Lucas sat beside her looking equally thrilled about the situation.
At least he suffered attractively.
One older executive leaned forward halfway through lunch.
"The public response to you two has been exceptional."
Sabrina nearly choked on sparkling water.
Exceptional.
Like they were a business merger.
Lucas looked deeply uninterested already.
"We'd love to explore more couple-focused opportunities," another woman added brightly.
Sabrina blinked. "Couple-focused opportunities sounds dystopian."
The table laughed awkwardly.
Lucas took a sip of coffee to hide what looked suspiciously like amusement.
The executive continued anyway.
"Fans are responding strongly to the authenticity between you both."
That word again.
Authenticity.
Ironically, the more fake this relationship was supposed to be, the more real it sometimes started feeling.
Which was terrifying.
The woman smiled toward Lucas.
"You seem happier lately."
The comment shifted something slightly.
Lucas's expression didn't change, but Sabrina noticed his fingers tighten briefly around his coffee cup.
"Careful," he said dryly. "People might think I have emotions."
The table laughed again.
But Sabrina looked at him carefully.
Because underneath the joke, she heard discomfort.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
After lunch finally ended, Lucas practically escaped toward the elevator.
"You hated every second of that," Sabrina observed once they were alone.
"They talked about us like a marketing campaign."
"You are a marketing campaign."
"That's the problem."
The elevator doors closed around them.
For once there were no cameras.
No assistants.
No publicists.
Just silence.
Lucas loosened his tie with a quiet sigh.
"You okay?" Sabrina asked.
He leaned back against the elevator wall, eyes briefly closing.
"Tired."
"You're always tired."
"That's becoming your favorite personality trait of mine."
"I'm serious."
Lucas opened his eyes again slowly.
The elevator lighting softened the sharpness of his features slightly.
He looked less like a celebrity in moments like this.
More like a regular guy carrying too much pressure.
"I had three hours of sleep," he admitted.
"Why?"
"Filming ran late."
"That can't be healthy."
"Probably not."
The elevator jolted suddenly before stopping between floors.
Silence.
Then the lights flickered once.
Sabrina blinked.
"...Did we just die?"
Lucas looked up at the ceiling calmly. "Probably not."
"You sound disappointingly casual about this."
"It happens sometimes."
"That's somehow worse."
Lucas pressed the emergency button while Sabrina stared at the unmoving doors suspiciously.
A crackling voice answered overhead saying maintenance was on the way.
"Great," Sabrina muttered. "We'll perish in a luxury elevator."
"You're dramatic."
"We're trapped in a metal box."
Lucas slid down against the wall until he sat on the floor looking bizarrely unbothered.
Sabrina stared at him.
"What are you doing?"
"Accepting death."
"That's my thing."
A small laugh escaped him.
Then he looked up at her.
"You can sit, you know."
Sabrina hesitated before sliding down across from him.
The space suddenly felt much smaller.
Quieter too.
For a minute neither spoke.
Then Lucas looked toward her carefully.
"You've adjusted to this faster than I expected."
"This?"
"The attention. The media."
Sabrina shrugged lightly. "I still hate most of it."
"But?"
She hesitated.
"But you're easier than I expected."
The words slipped out accidentally.
Lucas looked genuinely surprised.
Then something softer entered his expression again.
Dangerous.
"You thought I'd be worse?"
"I thought you'd be a spoiled actor with emotional issues."
"And now?"
Sabrina smiled slightly.
"Now I think you're a spoiled actor with emotional issues who occasionally buys me fries."
Lucas laughed quietly, shaking his head.
The elevator lights flickered again.
And somehow, sitting on the floor trapped between levels with Lucas Cooper smiling at her in the dim light, Sabrina realized she was in serious trouble.