I woke up to my phone buzzing like it was auditioning for a spot in a nightclub.
New headline: Fake Love, Real Fireworks: Startup Couple Scandal Ends in Kiss Seen 'Round the Gala.
Leo's arm was slung around my waist.
Yes. That Leo. The fake boyfriend turned very real kisser turned currently asleep on my couch like he didn't just detonate a media explosion with one perfect swoop of his lips.
I slid out from under him and tiptoed to the kitchen, because coffee fixes everything. Even existential romantic confusion.
"You're a blanket thief," Leo mumbled behind me.
"You're a spotlight hog," I retorted, pouring two mugs like a civil person who wasn't spiraling.
He smirked. "You kissed back."
"Fake kisses require commitment," I said. "Oscar-level."
He leaned against the counter, messy hair, sleepy eyes, and this smug confidence that made me want to throw my mug—then kiss him again.
"So now what?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Now we finish the pitch. Save your company. Convince Miranda we're not a PR nightmare."
"Cool. Easy. No pressure."
He grinned. "You're adorable when you're panicking."
I flipped him off. He toasted me with his coffee.
**
We got to the office and everything was weirdly quiet.
Too quiet.
Like the prelude in a horror movie when someone's about to discover a body in the copy room.
Instead, we found Miranda in the conference room—with the entire team, a reporter from TechStyle Weekly, and a camera crew.
"We're live in three," she said, not looking up.
I blinked. "I'm sorry—what now?"
She glanced at me. "You wanted press, Isabelle. This is it. Show them the love."
Leo stepped beside me. His hand brushed mine. Just once. Just enough.
"Let's give them a show," he said.
**
The reporter smiled like she knew everything. Which, judging by her Twitter feed, she probably did.
"So, Isabelle," she said, "how does it feel to be the center of tech's most talked-about romance?"
I laughed. Too loudly. "It's wild. We honestly just wanted to build a product that mattered. The love part? Surprise bonus."
She turned to Leo. "And you? Falling in love while launching a startup—stressful or romantic?"
He didn't miss a beat. "Both. But Isabelle makes stress look sexy."
Cue everyone in the room either swooning or vomiting internally.
I kicked him under the table. He grinned like he lived for foot pain.
We walked them through the pitch, the story, the vision. I even managed a few stats without choking.
Then Miranda stood. "Thank you for your time. I believe Isabelle and Leo are open to more questions offline."
We escaped ten minutes later, still smiling like we hadn't just sold our souls to public perception.
"You killed it," Leo said.
"You flirted with a journalist on camera."
"That's just branding."
"Your face is branding."
He paused. "Was that an insult or a compliment?"
"Little of both."
We stood in the hallway, catching our breath like we'd just run a marathon on heels.
He looked at me. Really looked.
"So what's the real plan here, Izzy?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean... this thing. Us. Are we faking until the pitch closes? Until Miranda stops watching? Until the press moves on? Or—"
"Don't," I cut in. "Don't ask me to define this right now. I still haven't had breakfast."
He stepped back, hands up. "Okay. But for the record? That kiss wasn't strategy. That was me."
I didn't respond. I couldn't.
Because he was right. And I felt it. Like a glitch in my system. A new code I didn't write.
**
By Friday, things were back to normal.
If you count a new office espresso machine, a Twitter trend, and a growing suspicion that I was one hoodie away from actual feelings as normal.
Brittany slinked back in with her smug smile. Jason stopped lurking. And the app? It was finally functional. Better than ever.
"We did it," Leo said, raising his coffee cup as we stared at the screen showing a hundred new sign-ups in real time.
"We actually did," I whispered.
And I should've been thrilled.
But the closer we got to launch, the more I felt... itchy.
Like this wasn't what I really wanted.
Because the pitch was going great.
But the fake boyfriend thing? It was getting too real. And I had no idea what to do with that.
**
That night, I stayed late, fiddling with code that didn't need fixing.
Leo walked in, holding a bag of takeout.
"You live here now?"
"Maybe. Cheaper than my apartment."
He handed me a box of noodles.
We ate in silence.
Finally, he said, "I got a job offer."
My stomach flipped. "What?"
"From Horizon. In New York."
I stared. "You're leaving?"
"I don't know. It's a great offer. But... I'd have to walk away from this. From you."
I swallowed. Hard.
"What do you want, Leo?"
He looked at me.
"I want you to ask me to stay."
The room went quiet.
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Because I didn't know what I wanted. Because asking someone to stay was too close to asking them to love you.
So I said nothing.
And he left.