Julian Harper, a slim 29-year-old graphic designer with tousled black hair, deep brown eyes, and a perpetual smirk, worked freelance out of a cluttered loft apartment. He had a sharp wit, a penchant for vintage band tees, and a family that wouldn't stop nagging about his single status.
Across town, Mateo Vega, a 32-year-old high school history teacher with a warm olive complexion, short-cropped dark curls, and kind hazel eyes framed by thick lashes, carried himself with quiet confidence. Built sturdy from years of weekend soccer leagues, he had a dimpled smile that disarmed most people though he, too, faced relentless pressure from relatives to "settle down."
Their paths crossed at a mutual friend's crowded housewarming party in late September. Julian, nursing a cheap beer, had been cornered by his cousin about another upcoming family wedding. Mateo, sipping a soda and dodging similar questions from an auntie via text, overheard Julian's exasperated sigh. Their eyes met across the room, a flicker of shared annoyance passing between them. Mateo wandered over, and with a conspiratorial grin, Julian muttered, "Wanna save me from another lecture about dying alone?"
Mateo chuckled, low and easy. "Only if you return the favor. Deal?"
That night, over spilled chips and too-loud music, they hatched a plan: pretend to date. Show up to family events together, post a few cozy pics on social media, and get everyone off their backs for a while. It seemed simple enough. Julian played the snarky, artsy boyfriend and Mateo, the steady, dependable one. They agreed on ground rules which included no real feelings, no overstepping, just a performance for a few months until the holiday season passed.
Their first "date" was a family barbecue at Julian's uncle's house in early October. Mateo arrived in a crisp button-down, sleeves rolled to show off strong forearms, and slipped an arm around Julian's waist like it was second nature. Julian, in a faded Nirvana tee and ripped jeans, leaned into it, smirking up at Mateo with a practiced ease that fooled even his nosiest cousin.
They swapped small touches. Mateo brushing a hand over Julian's shoulder, Julian nudging Mateo with a playful elbow. They also answered questions with rehearsed answers about how they'd "met through a friend." By the end of the night, Julian's family was sold, and Mateo's texts to his own relatives about his "new guy" sealed the deal on his end.
"See? Easy," Mateo said as they walked back to his beat-up Honda under a drizzle. "We're naturals."
Julian snorted, tugging his jacket tighter. "Yeah, till someone asks for our anniversary date. Better start memorizing."
They laughed it off, but something lingered in the air. Over the next few weeks, their charade deepened. They met for coffee to "plan" their next appearance, but ended up talking for hours about everything from Mateo's frustrating students to Julian's latest design gig gone wrong. They staged photos of Mateo grinning over a shared milkshake and Julian pretending to steal his fries then posted them online, racking up likes and heart-eyes emojis from family and friends.
At a Diwali celebration with Mateo's extended family, Julian let Mateo guide him through the traditions, their hands brushing as they lit a diya together. At a trivia night with Julian's coworkers, Mateo played the doting partner, slinging an arm over Julian's chair and whispering answers with a laugh that made Julian's chest tighten for reasons he couldn't name.
By November, the lines started to blur. They texted outside of planning. They shared random memes and quick check-ins about their days. When Mateo showed up at Julian's loft after a rough week with takeout and a six-pack, it wasn't for show. They sprawled on Julian's ratty couch, shoulders pressed together, watching some terrible sci-fi flick. Mateo's quiet presence felt… right. Julian caught himself staring at the curve of Mateo's jaw, the way his lips quirked when he laughed. He shoved the thought down hard.
"You okay, man?" Mateo asked, catching Julian's distant look.
"Yeah, just tired," Julian lied, shifting away slightly. But Mateo's hand lingered on his knee a second too long before pulling back, and Julian's skin burned from the contact.
Thanksgiving was coming, a family event that demanded their best performance yet. First was dinner at Mateo's parents' house, a lively affair with aunts, uncles, and cousins packed into a small dining room. Mateo kept Julian close, a protective arm around his shoulders, murmuring explanations about the food and family inside jokes. Julian, usually quick with a sarcastic quip, found himself softening under Mateo's warmth, even laughing when Mateo's little niece tugged Julian into a chaotic card game.
Later, at Julian's family's more formal gathering, they sat thigh-to-thigh at a long table, passing dishes and swapping glances that felt less like acting and more like instinct. When Julian's grandma pulled them aside to gush about how "perfect" they were together, Mateo squeezed Julian's hand under the table, and Julian didn't pull away. The gesture lingered in his mind long after they left, driving back to Portland under a cold, clear sky.
"Think we've got 'em convinced," Mateo said, breaking the quiet in the car. His voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant.
Julian nodded, staring out the window. "Yeah. Convinced." But his heart was racing, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't just talking about their families.
December arrived with icy winds and early darkness. Their fake relationship was supposed to wind down after the holidays, but neither brought it up. Instead, they found excuses to meet.
One night, after too much spiked eggnog at a friend's holiday party, they ended up back at Mateo's small apartment, coats shed, cheeks flushed from the cold and the booze.