Chapter 3

STARTED

NATE

I was practically vibrating with nerves as I walked toward the front stage where the rest of the cast was already seated. And of course, Matt was seated right beside my designated spot—smiling at me like he knew a secret I didn't.

I had no idea why he decided to walk in with me earlier. Was he helping? Was he plotting something? Was this his way of getting revenge through charm warfare?

I didn't know.

What I did know was I was late. Fashionably, but still. And every flash of a camera felt like it was saying, "Oop, here comes the scandal."

I sighed, inhaled courage like it was oxygen, and forced a smile.

"Are you okay?" Kyle, my leading man, asked with a concerned whisper.

"Yeah," I said with a nod. "Kind of nervous, but I can handle it." Lie. Total lie. I was 94% panic, 6% foundation.

The press con kicked off with surprisingly light questions—mostly about the series, the characters, and how we all worked together on set. I was starting to relax. I even laughed when someone asked if Kyle and I had real chemistry. (We didn't. I acted my heart out.)

But of course, peace is a myth.

One reporter leaned forward with a smile that spelled doom.

"Mr. Nate, would you mind if I ask about the kissing scandal from three days ago?"

Aaand there it is. The plot twist I didn't order.

A wave of whispers rippled through the venue. I caught Boss Lau's face—completely unreadable. Amazing. He looked like he was mentally erasing me from the roster.

Despite the internal screaming, I reached for the mic and tried to channel calm and poise... which, again, I did not possess.

"About that... uh—the guy who kissed me, he's... he's just—"

My lips were trembling. Great. Now I looked like I was about to confess to murder.

I glanced at Matt. He was staring right back. He looked like he wanted to stand up. Oh no, please don't do anything dramatic, Angry Bird—

"I am Nate's boyfriend!"

The voice boomed like thunder through a rom-com storm cloud.

Every single head turned. Gasps filled the room.

It was Matt. Of course. Calmly, confidently walking toward me like he was on a catwalk sponsored by chaos.

My jaw dropped. My brain short-circuited. I didn't know if I was supposed to deny, confirm, or just pass out.

The reporter blinked. "Are you sure, sir?"

"I'm Matthew Cohen Reyes," Matt said smoothly. "I'm a singer and businessman. Not very known in the showbiz scene, but in the business field—I'm one of the top entrepreneurs in Asia."

Wow, okay humblebrag energy. We get it, Forbes 30 Under 30. Sit down.

Matt was still walking, each step like a dramatic K-drama OST was playing in the background. He finally stopped beside me and—what the heck—wrapped his hand around my waist.

MY. WAIST.

The other reporter raised a brow. "Mr. Nate, is that true? Was that what you were about to say before he interrupted?"

I turned slowly to look at Matt—who was now casually smiling like he hadn't just hijacked my entire reputation—and I realized everyone was still waiting.

So I did what any sensible man would do in a full-blown PR crisis.

I lied with flair.

"Y-yes," I said, smiling awkwardly. "Matt is my boyfriend... and he's the guy I kissed three days ago."

The room exploded with murmurs, questions, flashes, and collective gasps. My co-stars' eyes were popping out. My manager looked like he needed a stress inhaler. I couldn't tell if Boss Lau was relieved or planning my funeral.

I had so many questions for Matt. Like—hello?! Since when did we agree to THIS?! I thought he hated the idea of a fake relationship. And now here he was, launching it like a brand partnership.

But I couldn't exactly undo it now. The cameras were rolling. The headlines were probably being written as we spoke.

So I just... went along with it.

Reporters fired more questions, and Matt—bless his villain arc—answered everything like he was born for it. He even added little fake details, like how we met during a music launch (false), bonded over coffee (double false, I'm allergic to bitter), and fell in love under the stars (what stars?! I'm near-sighted!).

I couldn't help it—I laughed.

I kept shaking my head at him, this delusional, dramatic, overconfident bird-man beside me.

And maybe... just maybe...

I smiled too.

____________

I swear, my legs were about to detach from my body from all the celebratory air kicks I'd been doing. I kept rolling back and forth across my bed like I was trying to summon a spirit of pure joy.

I couldn't stop replaying everything that happened earlier—from the moment Matt drove me to the press con, to the moment he declared in front of the entire country that he was my boyfriend. MY. FAKE. BOYFRIEND.

And then he bought me food. FOOD. Do you know what that means in my love language?! Full cheeks = full heart!

"Girl, one more roll and that bed's going to file a complaint," Brice's voice stabbed through the air like a disapproving fairy godmother.

I screamed and leapt upright like I got possessed by a sleep demon. "How the hell did you get in?!"

Brice, casually standing at the foot of my bed with a water bottle and his usual air of chaos, grinned. "I knocked five times, no response. So I broke your door. You're welcome."

"YOU WHAT—" I sprinted to the door, ready to have a mental breakdown, but sighed in relief when I saw it was, miraculously, still intact.

"You little gremlin!" I hurled a pillow at him, but he caught it mid-air like the drama queen he is.

"What's your problem anyway? You were twitching like you were being electrocuted." He plopped dramatically onto the bed, face-first.

"I was just... thinking about today," I said, sitting beside him with my most innocent expression. But my blush was giving me away.

Brice rolled over, eyes narrowed. "You were giggling like a K-drama extra. Admit it. You've got a crush on Angry Bird."

"EXCUSE me?" I shot up, clutching my invisible pearls. "I do not— He's just— I'm just happy I don't have to deal with this scandal alone anymore."

Brice smirked. "Right. And your cheeks just accidentally turn tomato red every time you say his name?"

Before I could throw another pillow, ding! The front door opened again like my life was a sitcom without locks.

Zeke and Luther walked in with chips and energy drinks like they owned the place.

"I brought snacks!" Zeke yelled. "What's the emergency—OH. You've activated the post-fake-boyfriend-flutter."

"You are all trespassers," I said, deadpan. "I should call the police. But okay, snacks."

Zeke threw himself on the beanbag while Luther hovered near the mirror fixing his hair. "Nate, blink twice if you're in denial."

"Blink once if he moaned when Matt held your waist," Brice added.

I threw a chip at both of them. "I did not moan!"

"You definitely made a noise," Luther chimed in. "It was a soft gay gasp. I heard it. From my room. Two floors away."

"Okay enough!" I shouted, flailing like a noodle. "We are not talking about this! It's not even real, okay? It's just temporary. Business arrangement. A publicity bandaid!"

Brice sat up, suddenly serious. "Are you sure you can handle this? He just came from a two-year relationship. What if this—"

"I know," I cut him off, raising both hands like I was surrendering to the Gay Emotional Police. "Which is why I'm keeping it strictly professional. Zero feelings. No strings attached. Nada. Zilch. He's just a business partner... with abs."

Everyone stared at me.

"I mean. Business partner, period." I cleared my throat and bolted to the bathroom like it owed me emotional safety.

As I shut the door behind me, I pressed my hands to my burning face.

This is fine.

Everything is fine.

Right?

...Right??

______

MATT

I barely made it through the front door before Ciandrei launched a throw pillow straight at my chest.

"You WHAT at the press con?!" he shrieked, standing in the middle of the living room like a scandalized telenovela auntie.

Jake followed behind him, sipping from a smoothie. "Dude, you went full rom-com. I thought we were doing slow-burn—not spontaneous love declaration in front of the media."

"I panicked," I shrugged, walking to the fridge. "Also, Nate looked like he was about to cry and possibly pass out. I did what I had to do."

"Oh, so naturally, you claimed him as your boyfriend in front of all of Asia?" Ciandrei asked, arms flailing. "That's very... noble of you, Shakespeare."

Jake sat down on the kitchen stool. "You could've denied it. Or faked amnesia. Or suddenly developed laryngitis."

I pulled out a juice box—don't judge me—and casually stabbed the straw through it. "I saw an opportunity."

"An opportunity?" Jake raised an eyebrow.

I sipped. "To get Nathan back."

There was a beat of silence. Then:

Ciandrei pointed a dramatic finger. "So you did like my idea!"

Jake looked from me to Ciandrei. "Wait, this was your idea?"

"Not exactly," I muttered.

"Excuse me, I distinctly remember saying that faking a relationship with Nate would make Nathan jealous and come running back—"

"—And I distinctly remember calling that ridiculous," I cut in.

"And yet here we are!" Ciandrei beamed like a proud mother. "My chaos has blossomed."

Jake raised both hands. "Just don't catch real feelings, dude. I'm not emotionally prepared for a love triangle meltdown in this apartment."

I rolled my eyes. "I won't."

...Hopefully.

Ciandrei raised his smoothie like a toast. "To fake boyfriends and questionable decisions!"

I clinked my juice box against it.

God help me, I might actually be in trouble.

_________

I rushed out of the bathroom the moment I heard Nate was already outside the apartment.

Just my luck—Ciandrei and Jake weren't home, so no one could open the door for him.

"Good morning—" Nate's smile faded instantly the moment he saw me.

I was still dripping, towel barely hanging onto my waist. Great.

"I told you I was in the shower, that's why—" I rolled my eyes, not in the mood to explain why I wasn't dressed like a normal person.

His gaze dropped—yep, straight to my chest, then a brief detour to my abs. Then, as if burned, he snapped his head away like it was illegal to look.

"You can... go get dressed first. I can wait," he mumbled, staring at literally everything except me.

I sighed and opened the door wider. "Yeah, come in. Go sit in the living room, try not to judge my house."

He scurried in like someone walking into enemy territory. I rushed upstairs to get changed—quickly, because I could already imagine the drama if I took too long and he got bored.

When I came back downstairs, Nate was holding one of the picture frames on the console table.

"That's Ciandrei and Jake," I said before he could ask. "Our group photo—maybe two years ago?"

He turned to me, curiosity painted all over his face. "Do they live here too?"

"Yeah, almost three years now under one roof," I nodded and sat beside him on the sofa. "Jake's my second cousin. His dad works under Cohen Corp—pretty high position—so we've been close since we were kids. He's only here like, three times a week though. Mama's boy."

Nate chuckled. "Figures. He gives off I-must-go-home-and-eat-mom's-sinigang vibes."

I smirked. "Ciandrei, though, he's also an heir—rich family, pressure-packed life. But unlike me, he ditched all that. Said he wanted to make a name for himself without his family's money. Basically ran away, and refused every offer I gave him to help."

"He ghosted privilege. Impressive," Nate nodded.

"He came back after two years—graduated in mechanical engineering. I let him crash here, and now it's like we formed some kind of low-budget sitcom family."

Nate laughed. "You guys do look like you live in a show."

He looked around. "So... this place. Yours?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "Dad gave it to me five years ago. Tried to say no, but ended up needing it anyway when Jake and Shan"—that's what we call Ciandrei—"started sticking around more. Eventually I thought, why not make it official? We're stuck with each other until further notice."

Nate smiled again, almost fond. Like he liked hearing this.

"So..." I tilted my head. "What exactly brings you here, Nate Rae Villanueva? Come to use my abs as an emotional support system again?"

Without missing a beat, he grinned like the little chaos machine he is and tossed a folder onto the center table.

"Read that," he said, smug like he just handed me a mystery box of drama.

And honestly? I was kind of scared.

__________

"Huh?! This is so long!" Matt groaned, flipping through the printed document like it was a surprise math quiz. "Rules and regulations? For a fake relationship? Are you opening a theme park or something?"

I rolled my eyes and snatched a croissant from the table. "What? I like structure. If we're faking this, we fake it with order."

Matt leaned back on the couch, reading aloud like he was doing dramatic theater.

"Number one: No kissing allowed. Okay, fair."

"Number two: No one else should know about this setup except our friends... until the given time."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Given time? This thing comes with an expiration date?"

"Of course!" I scoffed. "What, you thought I'd pretend to be in love with you forever? I plan to date someone real eventually, thank you very much."

He frowned, flipping to the next page. "And how long is 'eventually'?"

I shrugged and pouted. "I don't know. Maybe until the public stops obsessing over my love life?"

Matt set the papers down and looked at me seriously. "Can I decide how long we'll keep this going?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Let me be the one to decide when it ends," he said, voice lower now. "Please."

There was something in the way he said it that made my stomach twist a little.

"Uh... sure?" I answered hesitantly, feeling something sharp and uncomfortable wedge itself into my chest.

Then he added, almost too easily, "Just until I get him back."

I stared at him. My smile faltered.

So that's why he agreed.

He didn't care about fixing my scandal. He just saw this as a way to win Nathan back.

And suddenly, the folder in my hands felt heavier than before.

"Right," I said, trying to brush off the sting. "Well... just to be clear, okay? No. Strings. Attached." I said each word like it was law.

Matt chuckled—chuckled, the nerve—leaning forward, eyes gleaming. "Don't worry. It's not that easy to replace someone like Nate."

It was a jab, but he said it so casually that I almost laughed.

Almost.

I nodded silently, then offered him a pen to sign the rules.

He clicked the pen open, smirking. "You know, for a scandal that started with a wrong kiss... this is the weirdest relationship contract I've ever seen."

"Good," I replied, crossing my arms. "If this ends in tears, I want it on legal paper that it was your idea to fall apart."

He paused, gave me a long look, then signed.

And just like that... we were officially fake dating.

_________-

I was flopped on the couch like a retired starfish, binge-watching Netflix with Brice.

It was my day off, so I fully committed to the lifestyle of a pajama gremlin. No shower. No dignity. Just a stained hoodie and the will to rot in peace.

We were halfway through a crime docu about a guy who married five women and none of them knew about each other (iconic, honestly) when the doorbell suddenly rang.

"Brice, go check who it is," I commanded, not even taking my eyes off the TV.

He groaned dramatically, like I just asked him to carry a cross, but the death glare I shot him mid-popcorn chew made him rise like a very bitter zombie.

He shuffled over to the door, ready to unleash hell, until—

"WHAT are you doing here?!" Brice screamed, full-on telenovela style.

That got me off the couch in .02 seconds. I scrambled over like I was chasing a gossip bomb.

There he was. Brice, standing at the door, arms crossed, looking like a bouncer who just spotted his ex on the guest list. And in front of him?

Jake. Holding a bouquet of red roses.

Not a flower. Not a snack. A whole romantic gesture. On my doorstep.

"And with roses? Really? You think I'll just take you back because you brought props?!" Brice snapped, clearly unaware I was right behind him, witnessing the drama unfold like it was peak K-drama material.

Jake blinked innocently and offered a sly grin. "They're for Nate."

Boom. Instant KO.

Brice's face went pale like he just saw a ghost—or worse, an unfiltered selfie.

He straightened up so fast, I swear I heard a spine crack.

Before he could escape into the void from sheer embarrassment, Jake grabbed his wrist gently.

"But I didn't say I didn't bring anything for you too," Jake added, all cool and smooth.

Brice's soul left his body for a second. He was frozen mid-blink.

And of course, I had to swoop in.

"You two know each other?" I said, stepping into the frame like the main character I am. Brice jumped like he'd been caught stealing from a buffet.

"N-Nate! Uh, no—I mean, yes—I mean, mind your business!" he stammered, trying to push me back inside like a mom hiding a package from Shopee.

Jake turned to me with a charming smile and said, "Matt sent these for you. Said he's too busy to stop by himself."

He handed me the bouquet, which was honestly kind of sweet. I took it, pretending not to blush, even though my ears were heating up like microwave rice.

"Hmm... tell him thanks," I muttered, turning around casually—because I'm chill, okay? Super chill.

I was about to strut back inside like a winner on RuPaul's Drag Race when Jake suddenly spoke again.

"Nate, can I borrow your friend for a bit?"

I didn't even turn around. My pride wouldn't allow it. But I waved a hand dismissively and said, "Go ahead. Don't even bother returning him—he just eats all my snacks anyway."

"HUH?! Excuse me?!" Brice shrieked behind me. "I am a guest! A beloved roommate!"

I could hear Jake chuckling as I walked back to the couch and dramatically threw myself onto it.

Then I squealed into a pillow. Like, full-body squeal. The couch almost flipped. I was kicking the air like it owed me money.

After calming down, I grabbed my phone, fluffed the bouquet Matt gave me, and placed it aesthetically next to my half-finished matcha latte and a candle I haven't lit in months. Mood: soft boy era.

I snapped a pic. Posted it to Instagram with the caption:

"When your scandal buddy sends flowers 💐💅 #NotMadAboutIt"

Was it bait? Yes. Did I care? Absolutely not.

Not even five minutes later, the comments section exploded faster than my love life did last week.

@mattcohenreyes commented:

"Thought you'd throw them in the trash. Glad you kept them 💁‍♂️🌹"

OH.

OH WE'RE DOING THIS.

I immediately hearted it, then replied:

@nateraevillanueva: "Well they smelled nicer than your attitude so 🤷‍♀️"

And that was it. The shippers came flying in like moths to a chaotic flame:

@blversequeen94: "Wait are they DATING?! NateMatt supremacy rise up!!"

@fangirlvibes: "Enemies to lovers is real and thriving 🥹"

@chaoswithglitter: "Scandal who?? I only see FLOWERS and FLIRTING."

@matttakehimback: "Drop the couple vlog pls 😭😭"

Brice, of course, texted me immediately.

Brice: "You drama magnet. I leave you alone for ten minutes and now you're trending as #RoseGate."

Honestly? Worth it.

I grinned, scrolled through the chaos, and leaned back into my sofa.

Let them speculate.

I just wanted to see if Matt would send chocolates next.

//