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fashphotolife · 12 days ago

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CHAPTER TWO

"baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 9.3k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an —the tension… i hope you’re enjoying so far! i had so much fun writing this

masterlist

the night was already a disaster.

the tension between y/n and trent had been palpable the moment they stepped into the club. the air was thick with the heady mix of sweat, alcohol, and the unspoken animosity that seemed to grow louder with every second they spent together.

and as if the universe hadn’t done enough to mess with her lately, both their exes had decided to grace the night with their presence.

jadon was at the bar, leaning casually like he owned the damn place, his smirk a little too smug, his glances in her direction a little too calculated. each look felt like a reminder of how easily he used to worm his way into her thoughts.

“you sure you want to keep pretending this is going well?” y/n muttered, her fingers curling tighter around her glass as she leaned closer to trent.

he didn’t even look at her, his posture casual as he lounged against the booth. “you’re the one who thought this was a good idea,” he said, voice dry. “don’t blame me now.”

her irritation bubbled over, and she rolled her eyes. “fine. if you won’t, i’ll find someone else to dance with.”

she started to move, but before she could take more than a step, his hand shot out, wrapping firmly around her wrist.

“don’t even think about it,” trent said lowly, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

her eyes snapped to his, her lips curling into a defiant smirk. “let go of me.”

“not until you stop acting like a child,” he retorted, his grip unyielding.

she yanked her arm, but he didn’t let go, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t place. “you want to make a scene, or do you want to dance?”

the challenge in his tone made her bristle, but instead of pulling away, she leaned in just slightly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “fine. let’s dance.”

he led her to the dance floor, his grip still firm, and as they stepped into the pulsing lights and pounding bass, the tension between them only seemed to grow. the room was a wash of reds and golds, shadows playing tricks on their faces, but there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze as he turned to her.

“keep up,” he muttered, his hand settling low on her waist as he pulled her closer.

“don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back, though her heart was hammering against her ribs.

their bodies moved in sync, the rhythm pulling them together in ways that felt far too intimate. her arms looped around his neck, her fingers brushing the short hair at the nape of his neck, and she felt him stiffen slightly under her touch.

“you’re not even trying,” she teased, her voice low as she leaned in, her lips grazing his ear.

his grip tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him. “careful, y/n,” he murmured, his tone a warning laced with something else entirely.

she tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes gleaming with defiance. “or what?”

his jaw ticked, his eyes flickering down to her lips for just a second before meeting her gaze again. “you don’t want to find out.”

the words sent a shiver down her spine, but she refused to let him see how much he affected her. instead, she pressed closer, her movements slower, more deliberate, the friction between them almost unbearable.

“don’t get the wrong idea,” he muttered, though his voice lacked the conviction he was going for.

“i could say the same to you,” she shot back, her lips curving into a smirk as she leaned in just enough to brush against his jaw.

his breathing was heavier now, his hands twitching as though they wanted to roam, but he kept them firmly on her waist. every movement, every glance, every word between them was laced with an edge, a challenge neither was willing to back down from.

but then his movements faltered, his grip loosening as if he’d realized just how far this had gone. he stepped back, his eyes darker than they’d been before, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

“this is over,” he said, his voice clipped, the tension still thick in the air.

“gladly,” she replied, though the breathlessness in her tone betrayed her.

he turned on his heel and stalked off without another word, heading back toward the vip section where layla was still perched, her eyes following him.

y/n stayed where she was for a moment, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, willing her heart to slow. she exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders before finally making her way back to the booth, her pace slower, more deliberate.

when she got there, trent was leaning back in the booth, a glass in hand, his jaw tight. neither of them said a word, the silence between them louder than anything the music could drown out.

the tension followed y/n like a storm cloud as she made her way back to the section, her heels clicking against the club floor. she didn’t want to acknowledge the heat curling in her chest—anger, frustration, something unnamed—but it built with every step. and when she reached the section and saw a girl perched beside trent, her hand resting casually on his thigh as she leaned in to talk, the storm inside her broke.

she didn’t think twice.

her hands slid down trent’s shoulders from behind, her touch featherlight but deliberate, and she leaned in close enough for her lips to brush the curve of his neck. the kiss wasn’t soft or tender—it was calculated, staking a claim she didn’t even fully understand.

“who’s your friend?” she asked sweetly, her voice carrying an edge sharp enough to cut glass.

trent stiffened under her touch, his posture rigid. sarah turned, her smile tight as she took in y/n’s presence. “i’m sarah,” she said with a pointed edge. “his ex.”

y/n feigned surprise, her lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “funny. trent hasn’t mentioned you.”

sarah’s expression flickered, her pride bruised, but she recovered quickly. her tone turned venomous as she said, “that’s odd. he was in my bed just a few weeks ago.”

the air between them crackled, and trent’s body went rigid under y/n’s hands. but y/n didn’t flinch. her nails traced along his shoulder as she tilted her head, her smirk sharpening. “shame,” she said lightly, “he’s in mine now.”

sarah face twisted with anger, her façade cracking before she stormed off, her heels clicking in retreat.

y/n stepped back, crossing her arms as she stared down at trent, her chest rising and falling with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “you could’ve warned me.”

trent turned to face her, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. “why? it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

her laugh was short, humorless. “you’re right. i could care less. but weren’t you the one lecturing me about being seen with exes?”

his eyes darkened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “that was different. your thing with sancho was messy. sarah meant nothing.”

y/n arched a brow, her tone sharp enough to cut. “doesn’t seem like it by her reaction. but sure, keep telling yourself that, trent.”

she turned to leave, her steps swift, but his hand shot out, gripping her arm. he pulled her back with enough force to have her facing him, their faces just inches apart.

“what the hell is your problem?” he demanded, his voice low but heated.

“my problem?” she shot back, her eyes blazing. “maybe it’s the fact that i’m supposed to be your fake girlfriend, and you’re letting your ex hang all over you like a lovesick puppy.”

trent’s brows furrowed, his frustration bleeding through. “what are you so mad about? this isn’t real, remember?”

her lips parted, but no words came out at first. because the truth was, she didn’t know why she was so mad. the jealousy burning in her chest wasn’t supposed to be there, but it was. and it infuriated her.

she shook her head, masking her feelings with attitude. “i’m not mad. i just think you’re a hypocrite, that’s all.”

trent’s hand loosened on her arm, but he didn’t let go. his gaze searched hers, his voice dropping to something softer, more teasing. “you’ve got an attitude tonight.”

“and you’re insufferable,” she snapped, though the heat in her voice wavered under his stare.

he leaned in closer, his breath brushing her cheek. “face it, y/n. you’re acting like this because you care.”

her jaw clenched, her defenses rising like a shield. “care? please. the only thing i care about is not having your exes make me look like an idiot.”

trent scoffed, his grip on her arm tightening just slightly. “you’re full of it. you’re mad because you didn’t like seeing her next to me.”

her laugh was sharp, cutting through the tension. “you wish, trent.”

his voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “don’t I?”

the intensity in his gaze was suffocating, but she refused to back down. “careful, trent. it might seem like you actually care.”

his eyes narrowed, the space between them charged and crackling. “and what if I do?”

the words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken, before y/n tore her arm from his grip and scoffed. “yeah, right,” she muttered, her voice wavering as she walked away, her heart pounding as if it were trying to tell her something she wasn’t ready to hear.

“y/n,” he called, his voice sharp, cutting through the music and chatter of the club. when she didn’t stop, he moved, his longer strides closing the gap between them quickly. grabbing her wrist, he turned her around, forcing her to face him.

“what now?” she snapped, her eyes blazing with frustration.

he leaned in, his voice low and biting. “i know exactly what this is. you’ve got an attitude tonight, and you know what? it’s because i’m not playing your games.”

her brow furrowed, her lips parting as if to argue, but he didn’t let her.

“you’re mad because i’m not giving you the attention you so desperately want,” he continued, his tone dripping with irritation. “and you can’t stand it.”

y/n’s eyes narrowed, the anger simmering in her chest threatening to boil over. “don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back, her voice sharp enough to cut.

he smirked, though there was no humor in it. “oh, i think i’ve hit a nerve. admit it, y/n. you hate that i’m not falling all over myself for you tonight.”

her jaw clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. but then she smiled, slow and dangerous, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“maybe i’ll go find jay,” she said sweetly, her tone dripping with mockery. “he’s never complained before. in fact, he’s pretty good at setting me straight.”

trent froze for a split second, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. his grip on her wrist tightened as he stepped closer, their faces just a breath apart.

“say that again,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes boring into hers.

her smirk didn’t waver, though her heart was pounding. “what? the truth?”

his jaw tensed, his hand moving from her wrist to her waist, pulling her in just enough for the air between them to crackle with tension. “you’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.”

“am i?” she whispered, her eyes searching his, daring him to make the next move.

trent’s grip on her waist tightened, his breath warm against her skin. “you don’t get to throw his name in my face and walk away.”

her smirk softened, turning into something more vulnerable, more dangerous. “and what are you going to do about it?”

the space between them disappeared as the weight of their words hung in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

trent’s voice dropped, low and deliberate, his lips brushing just close enough to her ear to make her breath hitch. “you keep pushing me, y/n. one day, you’ll regret it.”

she tilted her head, her smile razor-sharp as she met his gaze. “regret?” she whispered back, her voice dripping with defiance. “the only thing i regret is wasting time here with you.”

his jaw tightened, but before he could respond, she pulled away sharply, her steps purposeful as she turned on her heel. “enjoy the rest of your night, trent,” she called over her shoulder, her tone mocking, leaving him standing there, simmering in the aftermath of her words.

the fluorescent lights of the boutique gleamed against the polished floors as trent trailed a few paces behind y/n. the two of them had been roped into this public outing, some half-baked idea from their teams about being spotted “casually” shopping together to sell their partnership. it was ridiculous, and y/n had made her feelings about it very clear.

“try to keep up,” she called over her shoulder, her tone sharp as she sifted through a rack of designer jackets.

trent shoved his hands into his pockets, smirking as he followed her. “it’s a store, not a marathon. no need to rush.”

y/n shot him a withering look, flipping her braids over her shoulder. “if you’re going to be useless, you might as well wait outside.”

he chuckled, stepping closer. “relax. i’m just enjoying the show.”

“what show?” she asked, not bothering to look at him as she tugged a sleek black trench coat off the rack and held it up to inspect.

“the one where you pretend this isn’t your idea of a good time,” he said, leaning casually against a nearby display. “shopping and showing off? come on, y/n. this is your element.”

she turned to face him, holding the coat up against her body. “first of all, i’m here because you needed to prove you can function in public without causing a scene. second, if this were my element, i wouldn’t be stuck with you.”

trent tilted his head, his smirk never wavering. “if i remember correctly, you’re the one who invited yourself to the dance floor last night. doesn’t seem like you mind being stuck with me all that much.”

her grip on the coat tightened as she narrowed her eyes at him. “you dragged me out there. don’t twist it.”

“right,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “and you just happened to press your back against me like that? totally involuntary, i’m sure.”

her cheeks flushed, but she quickly masked it with an eye roll. “don’t flatter yourself, trent. you’re not that special.”

“funny,” he said, crossing his arms as his gaze swept over her. “you didn’t seem to think that when we were dancing.”

y/n turned back to the rack, ignoring him as she rifled through the hangers. “you’re delusional.”

“am i?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement. “because i can still feel the way you fit against me. a perfect fit.”

she froze for a split second before recovering, pulling another jacket from the rack. “you really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“only when i’m right,” he said, leaning against the rack beside her. “admit it, you enjoyed it.”

she scoffed, holding the jacket up and inspecting it. “enjoyed what? your mediocre dance moves or your constant need to run your mouth?”

“both, probably,” he said with a shrug. “but if it makes you feel better, you looked good doing it.”

her head snapped toward him, her brows furrowing. “doing what?”

“letting go,” he said simply, his voice softer now. “you should try it more often.”

she blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. but just as quickly, her walls went back up. “i’ll let go the day you learn how to shut up.”

he laughed, stepping back as she moved past him toward another section of the store. “keep telling yourself that, y/n. but we both know you had fun.”

“if this conversation keeps going, i might lose my mind,” she muttered, though there was a slight curve to her lips that she didn’t bother to hide.

trent followed her, falling into step beside her. “you know, i think we make a pretty good team.”

“you’re delusional,” she said again, shaking her head.

“you’ve said that already,” he teased, nudging her gently with his elbow. “doesn’t make it any less true, though.”

“just pick something out so we can leave,” she said, trying—and failing—to ignore the way his laughter echoed in her chest, warm and infuriating all at once.

trent sank into the plush leather couch in the boutique's dressing room, his legs stretched out and his phone in hand. the faint murmur of soft jazz music played overhead as he scrolled mindlessly, only half-paying attention to whatever was on his screen.

this whole outing had been nothing but a headache. y/n was impossible—always had something to say, always ready to argue, always…

he glanced up when he heard the faint click of heels approaching, his breath hitching as y/n stepped into view.

the dress was black, fitted, and hugged her curves in ways that were borderline sinful. cutouts on the sides revealed just enough skin to tease the imagination, and the hem grazed mid-thigh, showing off her toned legs. her new light brown hair caught the light, framing her face like a halo, though the mischievous glint in her eyes was anything but angelic.

trent sat up straighter, his phone forgotten as his gaze lingered a moment too long. he tried to look away, but she caught him—of course she did.

y/n smirked as she turned to face the mirror, pretending to adjust the straps of the dress. she tilted her head, watching him through the reflection, her eyes sharp and knowing.

"well?" she said, her tone light but teasing. "you��re awfully quiet, trent. cat got your tongue?"

he cleared his throat, leaning back and attempting to regain his composure. "it’s… fine," he said, his voice coming out steadier than he felt.

she raised a brow, finally turning to face him fully. "just fine?"

before he could respond, she walked toward him, the sway of her hips deliberate. her heels clicked softly against the floor, and his eyes betrayed him, flickering downward before snapping back up to her face.

she stopped just short of his spread legs, leaning down slightly so their faces were level. her hands rested lightly on his thighs, her nails trailing faintly against the fabric of his pants as she tilted her head, her lips curving into a slow, sultry smile.

"so," she said, her voice low and honeyed, "what do you think, hmm?"

trent swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his expression neutral. her proximity, the heat of her hands, the way her perfume enveloped him—it was all too much.

"it’s a dress," he said finally, his voice strained.

her smirk deepened, and she leaned in just a fraction closer, her gaze locking with his. "you might think you’re in charge here, trent," she murmured, her tone like silk, "but you’re not. i am."

his breath caught, and he knew—knew—that she was doing this on purpose. she was toying with him, and damn it if it wasn’t working.

before he could muster a response, she straightened, her hands sliding away from his legs as she turned on her heel.

"good talk," she said over her shoulder, her voice light and mocking as she strutted away, the dress moving perfectly with every step.

trent’s eyes followed her, helpless to do anything else. he leaned back into the couch, running a hand over his jaw as he exhaled deeply, his pulse racing.

damn her, he thought, watching until she disappeared from view.

the meeting with their management teams had been as tedious as y/n expected. words like progress and great chemistry were tossed around like confetti, and both she and trent had to force smiles that barely hid their mutual irritation.

they’d spent an hour listening to executives pat themselves on the back for their "brilliant" pairing, nodding along as if the very idea of them working together wasn’t an elaborate mess. by the end of it, y/n was itching to leave, and she could tell trent felt the same by the way he loosened his tie the second they stepped into the hallway.

“that was... enlightening,” she muttered dryly, crossing her arms as they walked side by side toward the exit.

“if by enlightening, you mean a complete waste of time,” trent replied, shrugging off his blazer and slinging it over his shoulder. “at least we’re getting paid to sit through their nonsense.”

“wow, you really do think money solves everything, don’t you?” she quipped, throwing him a sidelong glance.

he smirked, his steps slowing as they neared the glass doors at the end of the corridor. “it helps. not that you’re complaining, considering you’ve been benefiting from this little arrangement too.”

she stopped, turning to face him with a glare that could cut glass. “benefiting? please. you’ve done nothing but annoy me since day one.”

“is that right?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock disbelief as he took a step closer.

“yeah, it is,” she shot back, lifting her chin defiantly. “you’re insufferable, arrogant, and—”

“and yet, here we are,” he interrupted smoothly, his eyes narrowing as a smirk played on his lips.

the hallway was quiet, the faint hum of distant voices from the meeting room fading into nothing. trent’s steps were deliberate as he closed the space between them, backing her toward the wall.

“you always this quiet when you’re annoyed, or is it just me?” trent asked finally, his voice cutting through the stillness.

she glanced up, narrowing her eyes. “maybe i just don’t have anything to say to you.”

he smirked, pushing off the wall and taking a slow step toward her. “funny, you had a lot to say the other night. remember? when you were rubbing on me”

she groaned, dropping her phone onto the counter. “you really can’t let that go, can you?”

“why would i?” he asked, his tone maddeningly casual as he closed the distance between them. “you practically melted in my arms. might’ve even heard you gasp a little.”

her jaw tightened, and she hopped off the counter, refusing to let him see how easily his words got to her. “you’re so full of yourself.”

you could be too” he followed her as she moved across the room, his steps unhurried but deliberate.

she stopped in front of one of the floor-length mirrors, pretending to fix the hem of her dress. “you think every girl is dying to be in your orbit, but newsflash, trent: i’m not.”

he laughed softly, the sound low and mocking. “keep telling yourself that, y/n.”

she turned to face him, her glare sharp. “i mean it.”

he raised a brow, his smirk still in place as he stepped closer, backing her toward the wall. “then why are you blushing?”

“i’m not,” she snapped, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

his grin widened as he closed the gap between them, his hands bracing on the wall on either side of her head. his body was close—too close—and her breath hitched as she pressed herself against the cool surface behind her.

her gaze flicked to his lips, unbidden, and her heart raced as she realized the proximity wasn’t just physical. the air between them felt electric, charged with something she didn’t want to name.

“you gonna kiss me, trent?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost a challenge.

his dark eyes searched hers, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “keep pushing me, y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “see what happens.”

her breath caught, her pulse hammering in her ears as his words hung in the air. she couldn’t tell if she wanted to shove him away or pull him closer, and the uncertainty made her head spin.

he leaned in just a fraction closer, his nose brushing hers, and for a split second, she thought he might actually do it. her fingers curled into fists at her sides, every nerve in her body on edge.

but then he pulled back, his smirk returning in full force as he dropped his hands and stepped away.

“thought so,” he said, his tone smug as he turned his back on her and walked down the hall.

she exhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling as she glared at his retreating figure. she glared at his retreating figure, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. “you’re a nightmare,” she muttered under her breath before storming off in the opposite direction, vowing to keep as far away from him as possible—at least until the next meeting..

“and you’re still blushing,” he called over his shoulder, his laughter following her as she stormed off in the opposite direction.

it was getting harder to pretend she didn’t feel it. the heat, the pull, the way trent had this uncanny ability to get under her skin and stay there like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch.

too many close calls. too many moments where the line between professional and personal blurred, where his dark eyes lingered just a second too long or his smirk hinted at things he wasn’t supposed to be thinking.

y/n hated that she knew exactly what he wanted. trent wasn’t subtle, not in the way his touch lingered when he didn’t need to, or how he always found a reason to be close to her, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him. he wanted her. she could feel it every time his gaze dropped to her lips or his hand ghosted the small of her back.

but she wasn’t stupid. not anymore. she’d learned her lesson the hard way, and if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that giving in to temptation always came with a price.

she’d been there before. jadon had been her cautionary tale, a masterclass in how easy it was to lose yourself in someone who was all charm and bad intentions. he’d made her feel like the only girl in the world until he didn’t, until she realized the pedestal he’d put her on was just another place for her to fall from.

and she had fallen. hard.

so no, she wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. trent might have been different, smoother in his arrogance and sharper in his wit, but the outcome would be the same. she wasn’t going to be the girl who got caught up in another man who thought he could have her just because he wanted her.

and yet, avoiding him seemed impossible.

she’d vowed to keep her distance, to keep her head down and focus on getting through this arrangement without any more unnecessary complications. but when her phone buzzed and she saw his name flash across the screen, she knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.

just a plane ticket. no message, no explanation, no apology for roping her into yet another situation she didn’t want to be a part of.

paris.

of course it had to be paris, the city of love and all the other clichés that made her want to roll her eyes.

she stared at the itinerary for a long moment, her jaw clenching as a wave of irritation washed over her. who did he think he was, deciding things without even consulting her? it wasn’t like she could just drop everything and jet off to france because he said so.

except she could. and she would. because their management team would insist, and the media would eat it up, and the illusion of their "chemistry" would keep them relevant for just a little longer.

she hated this. hated how easily he could disrupt her life, how the very thought of being stuck with him for a weekend made her stomach twist in equal parts annoyance and something else she didn’t want to name.

because as much as she disliked trent, as much as his smug grin and infuriating confidence grated on her nerves, there was something about him that got to her. something about the way he looked at her, like he saw through every wall she’d built around herself.

he wasn’t jadon. she knew that. but he was still dangerous in his own way, still capable of making her want things she shouldn’t.

and that was why she had to keep her guard up.

this wasn’t about trust, or attraction, or whatever it was that made her heart skip a beat when he got too close. this was about self-preservation. about not letting herself get pulled into something that could only end in disaster.

so she tossed her phone onto the couch and let out a heavy sigh, already dreading what the weekend would bring. paris, the city of love, with trent.

she could survive this. she had to.

y/n arrived at the hotel later than expected, her mood dark and her mind still tangled with the frustration that had plagued her all day. the studio had been a nightmare—no matter how hard she tried, the song she was recording just wasn’t coming out the way she wanted. the lyrics felt forced, the melody too distant from what she’d envisioned. she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was failing herself, and nothing, not even the supposed glamour of paris, could lift her spirits.

the hotel lobby was sleek and modern, everything shining with an effortless elegance. it should have been comforting, the smooth marble floors and plush seating, but instead, it just felt like another reminder that she was here because trent had pulled her into this situation, and she was stuck.

as soon as she stepped into the elevator, the door closing behind her with a soft whoosh, her phone buzzed. it was trent.

trent: you here yet?

y/n stared at the message for a moment, her finger hovering over the keyboard. the last thing she wanted to do was face him, but she knew better than to ignore him. this was all part of the show, after all.

coming now she replied, trying to keep her tone neutral, as if she wasn’t still carrying the weight of everything she’d been struggling with.

when she finally reached his room, the door opened almost instantly. trent stood in the doorway, his gaze flicking over her with that usual mix of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite place. but tonight, there was no smirk, no teasing. just a quiet observation that made her feel seen in a way she didn’t want to be.

trent watched her for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, before he pushed himself off the wall and made his way toward her. his eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of her slumped posture and the distant look in her eyes. he’d known her long enough to recognize when something was wrong, and tonight, she was giving off all the signs.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something else lurking beneath it.

y/n didn’t even glance at him, her focus still on the window as if the city outside could offer her some form of escape. after a long pause, she scoffed under her breath, her words dripping with bitterness. “like you care.”

trent paused for a moment, his jaw tightening, before he shrugged nonchalantly. “i don’t. but we aren’t exactly selling a love story if you’re upset. they’ll think i’ve done something.”

y/n let out a dry laugh, the sound empty and dismissive. “maybe you have.” her eyes flicked to him for just a moment before turning away again.

inwardly, trent’s stomach tightened. he hated how she’d phrased that, but he refused to let her know how much it bothered him. he’d never been good with emotions, especially not when they were tied to someone like y/n. but as much as he tried to keep his distance, the truth gnawed at him. he hated seeing her upset—hated that he couldn’t just snap his fingers and fix whatever was bothering her. only he could annoy her to the point of being upset, but the thought of someone else doing it… that was something else entirely.

he couldn’t afford to dwell on it. not when this whole thing was supposed to be fake, a simple performance for the cameras. but there she was, looking like she’d been hit by a storm, and he couldn’t push the feeling away. something in him wanted to know what had her so worked up. maybe it wasn’t his business, but the image of her like this didn’t sit right.

with a long exhale, he took a step closer to her, his voice softening, though his words were still laced with that same playful edge. “come on, y/n. we’ve got to at least pretend like we’re enjoying this whole ‘love story’ thing. otherwise, they’ll think i’m the one driving you to the edge.”

y/n tilted her head slightly, her eyes flicking over to him, but still not fully meeting his gaze. “that’s not the problem, trent.”

“then what is?” he pressed, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. deep down, he knew it wasn’t really about the cameras or the performance—there was something more behind it. but if she wasn’t going to tell him, then he couldn’t do anything.

she exhaled, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. “it’s nothing. don’t worry about it.”

he could tell she wasn’t being honest, and that gnawed at him more than it should. there was a part of him—one he would never admit— that wanted to pull her closer and take away whatever was eating at her, but that wasn’t his place. not really.

“you know,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower, “if you keep acting like this, people are going to start thinking we’re not even pretending to be in love. i mean, really, i’m working my ass off here.”

y/n rolled her eyes, the tension in her shoulders still evident as she glanced at him, then back out the window. “you’re such a drama queen.”

he smirked at that, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. “and yet, you keep putting up with it. tell me, y/n, what’s really going on? something happened at the studio?”

for a moment, y/n hesitated, her expression flickering between annoyance and something softer, something almost vulnerable. but before she could say anything, she snapped back into her usual guarded self, the walls going up again.

“it’s nothing,” she repeated. “just… a bad day. nothing you can fix.”

but it wasn’t nothing to him. it never was.

trent watched her for a moment, then closed the door behind him, leaning against it. “come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“it is,” she said flatly, her back still turned to him as she stared out the window. the city lights of paris twinkled in the distance, but they might as well have been a world away. “i just spent hours in the studio trying to get a song right, and i can’t do it. it’s just not coming out the way i want it to, and i feel like i’m failing at something i’m supposed to be good at.”

there was a beat of silence before trent spoke again, his tone gentler this time. “you’re not failing. it happens to everyone.”

“no, it doesn’t.” she turned around, facing him, her eyes burning with frustration. “i’m supposed to be better than this, and i can’t get it right. i don’t even know how to fix it.”

he pushed off the door and walked toward her, his presence suddenly too close, too overwhelming. “you’re overthinking it,” he said, his voice low. “you’re way too hard on yourself. i’ve seen you perform, y/n. you have something they can’t replicate, no matter how much you stress over it. but right now, you’re stuck because you’re trying to force it.”

y/n let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “you think i don’t know that?” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “i hate this feeling. i hate how out of control i feel.”

trent’s eyes softened as he took a step closer, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “you don’t have to do it alone, you know. it’s okay to need help sometimes.”

the sincerity in his voice made her heart skip, but she pushed the feeling aside. this wasn’t about him, not tonight. “i’m fine. i just… need to get my head straight.”

“so why don’t you take a break?” he suggested, his hand lingering on her arm a moment longer. “forget about the song for a while. we’re in paris, y/n. maybe we can find a way to get you out of your head.”

she met his gaze, her chest tight with the pull between wanting to retreat and wanting to be close to him. “and what, pretend this is just a vacation? pretend i’m not about to fall apart because i can’t even make a song sound right?”

“you’re not falling apart,” he said firmly. “but if you want to talk about it, i’m here.”

y/n didn’t know why, but something about his offer made her feel like she could drop the act. she didn’t want to be vulnerable, especially not with him, but the weight of everything was suffocating. “i don’t know how to make this work. everything feels… harder than it should be.”

trent was silent for a moment, just watching her with that same steady gaze, as if he could see right through the walls she’d built around herself. and in that moment, she hated how much he knew.

y/n stood there, her gaze still locked on the window, but her thoughts were elsewhere, swirling in a way she couldn’t quite stop. she knew trent was just being trent—always quick with a quip, pretending not to care, but there was a softness in his voice, an edge of concern she hadn’t expected. he’s just playing the role, she reminded herself. that’s all this is.

but it wasn’t just the role she was fighting. something about the way trent was looking at her now, like he was genuinely waiting for her to open up, felt like a door she wasn’t ready to walk through. it’s not real, she told herself, trying to convince her mind that his attention was just part of the act. but the comparison kept creeping in.

with jadon, it had been different. after everything—the messiness, the anger, the mistakes—he’d known how to listen. or at least, he’d made her feel like he did. those late-night conversations, the vulnerability that came after they’d been wrapped up in each other. they never really talked before they were tangled in the sheets, but afterward, it was always easier to let down her guard. she could tell him things, things she never said to anyone else, and he would listen with that same, steady gaze. those moments were always fleeting, but they were hers, shared between the two of them in the quiet aftermath. he didn’t need to ask her what was wrong; he could already feel it, the shift in the air, the things she wasn’t saying.

but with trent? it felt different. in the beginning, when they first started pretending, she assumed he wouldn’t listen at all—he was too cocky, too sure of himself. his charm was his armor, and anyone who looked beneath the surface was either a fool or a casualty. yet now, he stood in front of her, waiting for an answer he could’ve easily brushed off, watching her with an intensity that was starting to fray her composure.

it was almost frustrating how he kept pressing. why couldn’t he just let it go? why did he keep pushing when she wasn’t ready to share, when she wasn’t ready to let anyone in, least of all him?

still, the difference between the two of them weighed on her, more than it should. jadon would’ve known by now, she thought bitterly. he wouldn’t have kept pressing. he would’ve just let me be.

“why do you care so much?�� y/n finally muttered, turning to look at him, her voice tinged with frustration.

trent raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smirk curling his lips. “i’m just trying to make sure you’re not gonna make us look like idiots. you know, if you’re upset, they’re gonna think i’m the one who did it.”

she rolled her eyes at his excuse, but there was something almost genuine in his words that made her pause. his voice was too calm, too level for it to be part of the usual bravado. maybe he does care, she thought, though she quickly shoved the thought away, unwilling to entertain it.

“you’re the last person who should be concerned about how we look,” she snapped, trying to distance herself from the conversation. “besides, it’s none of your business.”

“maybe not,” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. “but it’s my business if it affects this whole charade we’ve got going on, yeah?” he shifted his weight, stepping a little closer. “but it’s also my business if you’re upset, y/n. i mean, we’re supposed to be ‘in love,’ right?”

the way he said it, so light, so playful, only made her feel more exposed. the heat in her chest rose, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. she knew he was just trying to get under her skin, but it was working. damn him.

“whatever. it isn’t a big deal,” she snapped again, her voice sharper this time. but she couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t face him long enough to lie to his face. her gaze kept flicking to the floor, avoiding the piercing look he was giving her.

trent let out a soft chuckle, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. he was too close, too much of everything she didn’t need. “y/n. whatever it is, you can talk to me, you know.”

she looked up, finally meeting his gaze, and for a moment, she let the walls slip. maybe he is different, she thought. but the thought made her feel unsteady, like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. no, don’t fall for it.

“you know, y/n,” he said, leaning back just slightly, “you might think you’re the only one struggling, but we’re both faking it here. just… don’t let them see you crumble, yeah? because we’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

his words were meant to lighten the moment, but she couldn’t help but feel like they were more than that. a little more sincere than they had any right to be.

trent stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her. he had already gathered her things for her, throwing a jacket over his shoulder and tossing the keys to the hotel room onto the table. “you’ve got, what, an hour to freshen up?” he said, his voice cutting through the silence in the room. “i’ll meet you downstairs.”

y/n didn’t answer right away, still staring out of the window, trying to gather her thoughts. everything felt so complicated. trent’s presence, his playful persistence, the way he always seemed to get under her skin in ways she didn’t expect. she had spent so much time trying to convince herself that she didn’t care about him, that he was just a part of the charade. but even now, as he stood there, the words stuck in her throat.

he doesn’t care. she reminded herself. don’t let him in.

with a sigh, she turned back toward him, nodding briefly before stepping past him toward the bathroom. she moved with mechanical precision, still turning the events of the evening over in her head. he had coaxed her into talking about the song, which, if she was being honest, she wasn’t sure was even the root of her frustration. it was everything else—the tension, the heat, the way he made her feel like she was being pulled in two different directions.

as the water ran over her skin, she let the warmth wash away the feeling of being so caught. it wasn’t just the pressure of the trip, or the eyes of the people on them—it was trent, the fact that he had made her feel something, even for a split second. she cursed herself for being distracted by him, for giving him any power over her feelings.

but when she emerged from the bathroom, her thoughts were scattered, and there was only one thing on her mind: don’t give in.

when she reached the lobby, trent was waiting near the door. his usual confident smile was in place, and there was a certain glint in his eyes. but for a moment, she noticed something else—he was looking at her with a hint of something unspoken in his gaze.

“ready?” he asked, casually slipping his hand into his jacket pocket.

“lead the way,” y/n replied, her tone cool, though it was hard to ignore the way he made her feel whenever he was close.

the city of paris had already started to buzz with the energy of the evening. tourists and locals alike were heading toward the iconic landmarks. trent led her through the streets with a confident stride, not once acknowledging the way the people around them were looking at them—because they were looking, she realized. as much as they wanted to pretend it was just another weekend getaway, there were too many eyes on them now.

they arrived at the restaurant soon after, one with a beautiful view of the eiffel tower, its lights sparkling like stars above the city. the place was intimate, the kind of place where you were supposed to feel special, where every glance across the table felt significant. and as they sat down, y/n had the distinct impression that this was no ordinary meal. trent was too comfortable here, as if he belonged to this world.

as they began talking, a sense of awkwardness lingered, but it didn’t take long before trent was leaning back in his chair, the smirk on his face one of familiarity. and then, without a word, as y/n was lost in her own thoughts, he snapped a photo of her.

she wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t paying attention to anything except the view, and when she glanced back at him. she swallowed hard, trying not to let the rush of emotions show on her face. she hadn’t expected this. sure, he’d teased her before, but the way he looked at her? this felt more like a claim. like he was… proud to be seen with her. and that made her skin crawl and her heart race at the same time.

as they continued their dinner, with the lights of the eiffel tower twinkling in the background, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was exactly what he wanted. a casual show of affection, one that blurred the lines between fantasy and reality. and despite her resistance, a part of her was starting to wonder: did he mean this? or was this just part of the act, too?

trent couldn’t help himself. as y/n sat across from him, lost in the view of the eiffel tower, he snapped the photo. it wasn’t of her face, not this time—just the back of her head, the curve of her neck, the way her hair cascaded over her shoulder. nothing that could be traced back to her directly, nothing that would scream her to the world. no caption, no tag—a sliver of his carefully curated life.

yet, as he hit post and the photo went live on his story, a knot of tension tightened in his stomach. it wasn’t the kind of post that demanded attention, but there was enough to make people start murmuring. the subtle suggestion that she was his, even if only in this moment, was enough to stir up the kind of gossip he hated.

he told himself it was all for show, just a small part of the game they were playing. nothing personal, nothing real. just a picture taken on a whim, for the sake of keeping up appearances. nothing more.

but as he sat across from her, watching her sip her drink and glance at the distant lights of the tower, he couldn’t shake the thought that had been creeping into his mind since he’d taken the photo. what if?

what if this wasn’t just for show? what if this was more than just a PR stunt? what if, in some twisted way, he wanted it to be real?

the thought sent a jolt through him, sharper than anything he had felt in a while. he shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the nagging pull in his chest. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. he had no business getting attached, not to someone like her—someone who had already shown that she wasn’t interested in any of the games he was playing.

and yet, every time she looked at him, every time their conversations shifted from the fake pleasantries to something more personal, he found himself wondering if she could see through the mask he wore.

he glanced down at the photo again, his thumb hovering over the screen. he had just posted a shot of her, a moment of vulnerability captured in the most casual of ways. it was nothing, and yet it felt like too much.

as y/n looked up from her drink, their eyes met across the table, and trent quickly looked away, trying to shake off the thought that had suddenly lodged itself in his mind. it’s for show, he reminded himself again. nothing more than that. but even as the words passed through his head, he couldn’t ignore the flicker of something else in his chest—something he didn’t want to examine too closely.

he leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. this wasn’t supposed to happen.

but it was, and it was happening whether he wanted it to or not.

the hotel room was quiet when they returned, the faint hum of the city slipping through the windows as they stepped inside. trent tossed his jacket on the chair and stretched, glancing over at y/n, who was standing near the bed, looking a little out of place.

“you know, this is a smaller bed than i’m use to,” he said, teasing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “you sure you’re okay with it? you get shy around one bed?”

y/n rolled her eyes and turned toward him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “stop projecting, trent,” she shot back, crossing her arms in the same manner. “i barely slept three and a half hours last night, so if you’re expecting me to give a damn about sharing a bed—this is happening. i’m sleeping in this bed.”

he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. he wasn’t sure why she was always so quick to shut down his teasing, but he kind of liked it. it kept things… interesting.

“fine, fine,” he muttered, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “but don’t blame me if you end up on the floor.”

y/n ignored him, already starting to unbutton her shirt, the fabric falling away as she rummaged through her bag for something to sleep in. trent, too, began to peel off his clothes—nothing too showy, just enough to get comfortable. the routine was familiar, like it was something they’d done a hundred times before, even though they both knew it was not the case.

he stole a glance at her as she pulled on a loose tank top, her back to him as she readjusted the straps of her shorts. she wasn’t looking at him, but there was a faint vulnerability in the way she moved, like she didn’t want to admit how easy it had become to be around him.

after a few moments of awkward silence, y/n crawled into the bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. she let out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling as if she was trying to make sense of everything that had happened today—the date, the moments with trent that had made her question what they were even doing here.

trent, not one for silence, shifted next to her, settling into the bed with his hands behind his head. “so,” he began, his voice low and playful. “you enjoyed the evening more than you thought you would, huh?”

y/n turned her head to look at him, surprised by the question. “yeah,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t expect to enjoy it this much. i’ve been to paris before, but… i don’t know. tonight felt different. everything felt different.”

trent’s eyes flickered to her face, and for a brief second, their gazes locked. it was odd—this feeling that she was opening up to him, even just a little. but he couldn’t push it too much, couldn’t ruin the moment with any of the usual jokes or questions he’d normally ask.

“i get it,” he said finally, his voice surprisingly sincere. “paris does that to you. makes you see things in a different light.”

the silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was the kind of quiet that came with familiarity, the kind of silence shared by two people who’d been around each other long enough to know what the other needed without saying it. the room was warm, the faint scent of their day lingering in the air. it was strangely domestic, like they were just two people existing in a space where nothing needed to be forced.

y/n shifted again, curling up on her side, facing him as she tugged the covers up around her neck. she could feel the weight of his stare, even without looking directly at him. it wasn’t the usual judgment she’d expect from him—it was softer, almost contemplative.

“you’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow. “are you gonna make fun of me for this now?”

trent shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. “no, i think i’ll just… enjoy the peace for once.” he said it teasingly, but there was something in the way he said it that made her feel… well, seen.

y/n didn’t know how to respond. it wasn’t like she could tell him that being here with him was comfortable in a way that confused her. that, despite everything, she felt more relaxed around him than she had with anyone else in a while.

the bed creaked as trent shifted again, closer this time. she could feel the heat from his body, the way the space between them seemed to shrink with every passing second. she wasn’t sure if it was the day, the city, or just the weight of their shared proximity, but she couldn’t help the way her heartbeat picked up when he reached for the light switch and dimmed the room.

“goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of something unreadable.

she closed her eyes, still unsure of everything that had just happened between them, but there was a flicker of something warm in her chest as she whispered back, “goodnight, trent.”

the night stretched on, but sleep didn’t come easy.

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