Chapter 2

DEAL OR NO DEAL

There's a special kind of horror that hits when you open your phone and Twitter greets you with your full government name trending—for all the wrong reasons.

I was lying on my bed, hair still damp from a panic shower, wrapped in my fluffiest robe like it could protect me from the internet. Spoiler alert: it couldn't.

I took a deep breath, braced myself, and opened Instagram first. Classic mistake.

The top post on my explore page? A clip. The clip. Me. The accidental kiss. Set to heartbreak pop music. With captions like "Love found him, but did he deserve it?"

"What the heck—" I whispered, scrolling faster.

The comment section was worse.

@NateNationQueen: "He said he was single. Now look. I defended him against my MOM."

@FanForLifeNoMore: "I can't believe I wasted two years stanning this liar. BLOCKED."

@TeamRealNotReel: "So this is what fame does to people. Sad."

@KdramaWriterMood: "He kissed a stranger and I still don't get kissed. Life is unfair."

I felt my stomach twist.

I jumped to Twitter, hoping maybe—just maybe—the tide was turning. I searched my name. Mistake number two.

#NateVillanuevaIsOverParty was trending at #5.

Number. Freaking. Five.

I scrolled through tweet after tweet. Some people were defending me, bless their delulu hearts. But most? Most were roasting me like I committed a war crime instead of accidentally kissing a hot stranger in a flower-lit hallway.

And the worst part?

They weren't even wrong.

I never said I was taken, because I wasn't. But that kiss made it look like I was in a relationship. And in this industry, that kind of illusion matters. Fans felt betrayed, like they didn't know who they were stanning anymore.

I dropped my phone onto my stomach and stared up at the ceiling like it had answers. It didn't. It just had a small water stain that looked suspiciously like a middle finger.

"Am I canceled?" I asked aloud. No one answered. Not even Siri.

I wasn't crying, okay? I was just... aggressively blinking.

I turned to my pillow and groaned into it. "It wasn't even my fault! He kissed me! I was just standing there, existing like a confused rom-com protagonist!"

Still. No one cared.

The internet didn't want context. The internet wanted content.

And right now? I was the content. Just not the kind I wanted to be.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone again, opening the group chat with Brice and my manager.

Me:

I think I'm getting cancelled

Should I post an apology or fake my death?

Brice:

Neither. We're writing a statement. And no, you can't use the "I was emotionally compromised" excuse again.

Manager Renzo:

Don't post anything yet. We need to be smart. Let the wave rise and fall. Then we control the story.

I sighed.

For someone who trended without trying, I was surprisingly bad at handling the spotlight when it burned.

I didn't know how I was going to bounce back. But I knew one thing:

If this was rock bottom, I better find a way to turn it into a trampoline.

I stared at my phone for too long only to find a contact number from the guy who kissed me, Matt. I know what to do, since it's his fault he should the one who fix this.

________

MATT

I was still lying on the couch like a defeated drama lead, wearing the same hoodie from last night and drinking lukewarm tea Nathan had made hours ago—before he broke my heart and left me in emotional limbo.

With a groan, I unlocked my phone and opened the message.

Jake had sent a link to a tweet.

@TeaTimeTruths:

OMG NEW LEAKED PHOTOS 📸 Nate Rae Villanueva and Matt Cohen Reyes???

SAME CAR. SAME BUILDING. SAME EVERYTHING.

Are they dating?! 👀👀

Attached: Three blurry but very real photos.

One: me, holding the car door open like a miserable chauffeur.

Two: Nate inside the passenger seat, looking like he just saw a ghost—or worse, a cancellation tweet.

Three: us walking into the building like we were trying very hard not to be noticed and failing spectacularly.

I stared at the screen, unblinking.

"What in the public relations nightmare—" I muttered.

Jake sent another message.

Jake:

You guys look like you're in the middle of a secret affair. Also... why do you look like you just kidnapped him?

Jake (again):

Is this your coming out soft-launch?? Should I order cake??

I ran a hand over my face and sighed. "God, I can't deal with this."

I scrolled through the comments. It was already spreading like wildfire.

@KdramaMoodboard: "Enemies to lovers speedrun."

@NateNationQueen: "If they aren't dating then WHY is he in Matt's car? With mood lighting??"

@ShipItOrQuitIt: "I'm giving them a week before we get a 'surprise relationship' article."

The worst part? I hadn't even told my label about what happened. And now here I was, apparently starring in a real-life BL plot twist with someone I didn't even know the full name of until this morning.

I clicked on the tweet again, staring at the photos.

Nate looked small in that car seat. Like someone who'd been thrown into chaos and didn't sign up for it. Just like me.

And now, the internet had crowned us a couple.

I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes.

First, Nathan leaves.

Now, this.

My life wasn't just messy—it was trending.

I was starting to wonder if kissing a stranger might've been the least chaotic part of my week.

_______

There's a certain thrill in deciding to be brave—and by brave, I mean dramatic. I showed up at Matt Cohen Reyes' studio like I was auditioning for the role of 'chaotic ex' in a music video. Hoodie on. Sunglasses angled just low enough to make people whisper. I was running on three hours of sleep, anxiety, and a chai latte that tasted suspiciously like regret.

I asked the nice lady at the front desk where I could find him and acted like I totally belonged there. 

But before I could knock, the door creaked open and—hello plot twist—Matt walked out.

Shirtless.

Yes. Shirt. Less.

Abs. Definition. Skin. My dignity: missing.

I blinked so hard I almost reset my brain.

"Oh my gosh," I muttered like a malfunctioning AI, frozen in place. "You're not wearing a shirt."

Matt frowned, clearly unamused. "And you're still here."

"Of course I'm still here," I replied, regaining my composure. "We have a situation. And I'm not going to solve it by hiding under a blanket and hoping it goes away."

Jake suddenly appeared beside him, eating a granola bar like this was his afternoon soap.

"Bro, at least put a shirt on," Jake said, smacking Matt's arm. "You're giving him a stroke."

"I'm fine," I said, my voice three octaves higher than normal. "This is strictly business. Strictly. Business."

Matt finally sighed, turned around, and walked back into the studio—still shirtless, still rude. I followed, because professionalism was hanging on by a thread.

Ciandrei was already inside, pretending to reorganize cables like his life depended on it. Jake plopped onto the couch, still munching, fully invested.

Matt crossed his arms, looking tired and absolutely done. "Alright, Villanueva. What's your deal?"

"I'm not here to apologize," I said, straightening my spine like I meant business. "I'm here because we have a shared problem, and I have a solution."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember us being on a team."

"We're not. But thanks to the internet, we look like we are. So we might as well get something useful out of it."

He looked at me like I'd just asked him to duet at a stranger's wedding. "Useful?"

"A fake relationship," I said plainly. "We fake it for the public, do a few appearances, let the chaos cool down, then we go our separate ways. You get out of the awkward headlines. I salvage my career. Win-win."

Matt scoffed. "You want me to pretend to date you?"

"Well, when you say it like that it sounds a little—"

"I'm not doing that."

My smile faltered. "Why not?"

"Because," Matt snapped, his voice cutting through the room like ice, "I'm already dealing with a breakup I didn't ask for, and pretending to date someone else is not going to help me win Nathan back. It's going to make things worse."

Jake looked like he wanted to speak but wisely stayed silent.

"I'm not asking you to propose to me," I said, trying to keep it cool. "Just a few public moments to steer the narrative."

"Beside, it's not all my fault, remember? you kissed me on accident," I said with my brow furrowed. 

"Then dragged me into your PR mess.?" he looked at me rudely, "You still have fault for assuming that it's for you, so I'm not making a fake romance part of my therapy bill."

There was a moment of silence. I could feel everyone's eyes ping-ponging between us.

"I'm not the villain here," I muttered.

"You're not the victim either," Matt shot back.

Okay. That stung.

"You're done talking? Then leave." he said seriously before turning his back again.

I couldn't say anything anymore. I just stood there, watching him walk away.

"I'll drive you home," Jake said, and I turned my gaze toward him.

I nodded, pressing my lips into a thin line.

Next thing I knew, I was in Jake's car. He was driving me back—but I didn't give him my actual address. I gave him Brice's.

Brice also told me he'd wait for me outside, just so no one would see me.

"I'm sorry about how my friend acted earlier," Jake said after a while. "He's going through something big."

"I have a problem too," I replied dryly.

"He and his boyfriend broke up earlier." I turned to Jake again.

He kept his eyes on the road.

"Because of me?" I asked bluntly.

"Yeah, you're the reason. But it's not your fault," he said, eyes still locked on the road.

"Should I be proud of that?" I asked sarcastically.

"No," he chuckled lightly. "Actually, even if this whole thing didn't happen, we all knew it was just a matter of time before Nate broke up with him."

"How come?"

"It was bound to happen. And honestly, all of us noticed that Matt wasn't happy anymore. Even Matt knew it deep down. He just kept pretending not to see it to save the relationship. He said it would be a waste—two years and all." Jake let out a small chuckle.

"Two years and he still martyr'd himself like that? No wonder he's so dramatic," I scoffed.

"He loves the guy. Nate's actually a good person—kind, helpful, and most of all, loving. I don't know what changed. But somewhere along the way, something did," Jake said.

"People change," I replied simply and sighed.

After some time, we finally arrived at Brice's condo building.

"I gotta go. Thanks for the ride," I smiled and stepped out of the car.

Once I got out, I started walking toward the entrance. From afar, I could already see Brice standing there, eating ice cream.

"Nate!" I stopped and turned toward Jake's direction.

"What?" I half-shouted back since he was already a bit far.

"I'll talk to Matt. I'll try to convince him to talk to you later." Jake also shouted.

I just nodded and gave him a thumbs up before turning around and walking toward Brice.

"Hey, Brice," I greeted him.

He didn't respond. He was staring behind me. I followed his gaze—and saw Jake, still standing there, but this time his eyes were on Brice specifically.

"You know him?" I asked Brice.

"Huh? No. Not at all... Let's go," he quickly said before grabbing my wrist and dragging me inside.

I looked back at Jake one last time. It seemed like he was about to chase after us... but stopped when he realized we were already far enough.

"So," Brice began, holding up his phone like it was evidence in a court trial, "the kiss is now in 4K, slow-mo, and apparently part of a TikTok thirst edit set to a Taylor Swift song."

"Wonderful," I said, slouching dramatically into my chair. "My legacy is now lips, lighting, and lyrical piano."

"Not the worst legacy," Luther muttered without looking up.

Zeke shoved the banana into his mouth and spoke with a full chew. "I mean, you looked hot though. He looked confused. Very Greek tragedy meets gay panic."

"Greek tragedy meets gay panic is not a genre I want to be cast in," I groaned.

Brice swiped through photos. "And the memes. Oh, the memes. There's one where someone photoshopped a wedding veil on you. Another where Matt is holding a bouquet of hotdogs."

"Hotdogs?" I blinked.

"Don't ask," Brice sighed.

"I can't believe I kissed someone who said no to me twice in less than 24 hours," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Twice! Rejection should come with a loyalty card."

Zeke laughed. "Maybe he's just shy?"

"Shy?" I gasped. "He looked me in the eyes with his shirt off and told me to disappear like I was a rogue Sims character. That's not shy. That's emotionally constipated."

Brice smirked. "To be fair, you did show up uninvited. Twice."

"It was strategy!" I argued.

"You drooled at his abs," Luther pointed out.

"That was involuntary."

Zeke was now spinning slowly in his chair while trying to balance a coffee cup on his forehead. "Okay but like, hear me out—what if this turns into an actual enemies-to-lovers arc?"

"No," I said quickly. "I don't need a man who looks like a gym ad and talks like he's allergic to feelings."

"Okay fine, but he is kind of hot," Brice added, sipping his coffee.

"Don't encourage this," I said.

Just then, the door opened and Brice' cousin walked in with a tray of drinks. She was wearing crocs, a Pikachu onesie, and wireless headphones.

"Delivery for—uh... the Scandal Squad?" they said.

"That's us," Luther said without missing a beat.

"Bless you," Brice muttered, grabbing a drink without even making eye contact.

"Pikachu," I nodded seriously. "May your journey be electric."

His cousin blinked and left without a word.

Zeke snorted soda through his nose.

Brice wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his cardigan. "Okay. Back to business. Nate, if we don't want this to tank your entire film launch, we need to make a move. Fast. You're already trending with a new fan ship name: #NaMatt. Gross."

"NaMatt?" I made a face like I just swallowed a sock.

Luther shrugged. "It could've been worse. They almost went with #Cohenueva."

I facepalmed so hard my forehead still tingled.

"We need something big," Brice said, eyes darting across screens. "A distraction. A stunt. A photoshoot. You hugging a dog while saving a baby."

"Can the baby save me?" I sighed.

Just then, Zeke's chair toppled as he attempted to balance two pens on his upper lip.

"I'm okay!" he called from the floor.

"We know," we all chorused without looking.

Brice cracked his knuckles. "Alright, Nate. We can't wait for that guy to help you fix things up, you need to fix this alone, I'm not saying you alone, I mean we"

"Yeah, but I think I should just end this once and for all," I mumbled.

And by that decision, I mean to officially apologize to public and redeemed my dignity, I'll go with the flow.

_________

Matt was on his third cup of black coffee, glaring at his keyboard like it personally offended him, when Jake and Ciandrei barged into his studio uninvited—because privacy was apparently a myth in their building.

Jake plopped on the bean bag near the corner while munching on a protein bar. Ciandrei, in full pastel chaos, spun a wheeled chair backwards and straddled it like a cartoon therapist.

"Alright," Ciandrei declared. "Intervention time."

Matt groaned. "I already had one mental breakdown today. Can we save the sequel for later?"

"Nope." Jake tossed him a granola bar. "You need energy for the confrontation."

"What confrontation?"

Jake nodded meaningfully. "The Nate kind."

Matt dropped his head to the table. "Absolutely not. He came in here like a glitter bomb of drama. I'm not touching that mess again."

Ciandrei gasped. "Matt. He asked you for help."

"He demanded it, actually."

"Which is basically asking... but with spice."

Matt lifted his head. "Why are you two so invested in this?"

Jake pointed his granola bar like it was a wand. "Because it's kinda epic. And it's not entirely Nate's fault. You two kissed in front of cameras. The internet is frothing."

"I didn't mean to kiss him. I was trying to be romantic with someone else!"

Ciandrei nodded. "And now you're in a BL fanfic. Embrace the plot twist."

"I don't want to be in a plot twist. I want Nathan back," Matt snapped, running a hand through his hair.

And then Ciandrei did it.

He tilted his head, all sparkly-eyed and unintentionally evil. "Then... what if helping Nate helps you get Nathan back?"

Matt stared. "What?"

Jake sat up straighter. "Wait, actually... if you do this fake relationship thing, and Nathan sees it—"

"—he might get jealous!" Ciandrei jumped in. "And realize he still wants you!"

Matt blinked. "What in the high school is this logic?"

Jake shrugged. "You said he broke up with you because he was tired of the chaos, right? But now if he thinks you've moved on—"

"He might realize he can't let you go," Ciandrei finished, eyes gleaming.

Matt looked between the two of them like they were live-action anime characters.

"That makes absolutely no sense," he said flatly.

"But it might work," Ciandrei said, grinning.

Matt rolled his eyes. "You two are ridiculous."

"Maybe," Jake grinned, "but you're listening."

Matt didn't respond, but he did stop glaring at his keyboard.

And he did, for a moment, wonder what would happen if Nathan saw him smiling beside Nate.

Just one photo.

Just one week.

What's the worst that could happen?

_______

NATE

I was in full panic mode trying to get ready because today's the press conference for my upcoming series that's finally releasing next week.

I was a nervous wreck—because I knew the first thing they'd ask me would be about that incident the other night. But maybe I should just admit it already. Rip the band-aid. Get it over with. Spare myself the circus.

I drove off toward the venue, praying for a smooth ride... but of course, right in the middle of Cameron Woods, my car decided to betray me.

I pulled over and got out to check what was wrong.

"What the actual hell? This had to happen now?!" I muttered in disbelief as I stared at my very, very flat tire.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself—but nope, I ended up kicking the hood of the car like a toddler denied candy.

Leaning against the car, I was on the verge of tears. Great. I was going to be late. Again. And of course, I would end up as the main headline. Again.

I turned to my car with pure rage and kicked it one more time for good measure.

"Well, yeah, that's totally gonna fix it," a voice called out, making me jump out of my skin.

"Angry Bird—wait, Matt?!" I blinked. How did I not even notice him pulling up?

"What happened?" he asked, glancing at my pitiful car.

"Flat tires," I mumbled, my face full of stress and existential dread.

"Need help?" he asked with a smile.

Wait. Smile?

Hold up. Matt Cohen Reyes just smiled at me—and wow. He was cute when he smiled. Like, if brightness were a person, it would be him.

"D-do you have a spare tire?" I stammered, fully distracted by the rare sunshine radiating from his face.

"Nope. I don't even know how to change one," he said, still smiling. "But I can call a mechanic to fix it."

I quickly looked away before that smile took me out for good.

"There's no time. I'm already running late," I sighed, practically wheezing.

"Wanna ride?" he asked, super chill.

"Huh?" I blinked.

"I'll give you a lift. Unless you want to blame me for being late again," he said with a smirk that was so smug it made my soul itch.

"Wow. You don't even look like someone going through heartbreak. Classic Angry Bird," I said, grinning at him.

His smile dropped immediately. He glared at me like I just insulted his whole bloodline.

"Kidding! I was kidding! Sir, would you please do me the honor of driving me, because time is literally sprinting away from us?" I said dramatically but with a sarcastic salute.

He just sighed like he regretted his life choices, turned around, and walked back to his car.

And of course, I followed him—because who am I to say no to a free ride from my accidental almost-boyfriend?

_______

MATT'S POV

We finally arrived at Cameron Townsquare—the venue for the press conference of Nate's upcoming series.

I parked the car right in front of the entrance, where a red carpet had already been laid out so the cast members could make their way inside with flair.

"Thanks for the ride, Matt," Nate said, flashing me a smile—for the first time, mind you.

"Take care. Good luck. And just message me if you need help, okay? I got your back," I said, throwing in a wink for good measure.

I caught a small smirk forming on the corner of his lips before he quickly looked away. Without another word, he got out of the car and strutted toward the mall's entrance.

I was just about to drive off when something caught my attention.

A group of girls—armed with cameras—were positioned right by the barricade, filming Nate as he walked down the red carpet. But then, I noticed something else: one of them had their camera focused on me.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel.

I knew exactly what this meant.

If I drove away now, those pictures would be online in less than five minutes. Headlines would read something stupid like "Singer Matt Cohen Reyes drops Nate off secretly at event—mysterious romance confirmed?" Nate was already drowning in scandal. One more ambiguous photo and it could crush his public image completely.

I stared ahead for a second, then looked in the rearview mirror.

I saw Nate pause by the mall entrance, nervously straightening his outfit. He was trying to look composed, but I could tell—he was panicking inside. He was trying to act like he was okay, like everything was fine.

He wasn't.

And despite everything—how this started, the weird kiss, the fake-relationship offer—I knew I couldn't just leave him to face the storm alone.

I sighed, rested my head briefly on the steering wheel, then grabbed my cap from the passenger seat.

"Alright, Matt," I muttered to myself. "You kissed the wrong guy. Might as well fake-date him correctly."

I opened the door, stepped out, and adjusted my cap low enough to cover half my face. The cameras immediately swung my way.

I jogged over to where Nate was about to step inside.

He turned, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Damage control," I said under my breath. "Let's fake the heck out of this."

And before he could react, I stood beside him, flashed a casual smile at the cameras, and offered my arm.

Nate looked stunned for a second—but then, the little devil smirk returned. He looped his arm through mine like it was second nature.

We walked inside together.

If this was a disaster, we were going to make it look like a red carpet debut.

Together.

//