Fashionable Manz

Julian had a flawless plan. Or at least that's what he'd been telling himself for the last three days. The café was filled with the usual afternoon crowd, soft music drifting through the air while his friends occupied an entire corner booth. Half-finished drinks sat scattered across the table while conversations bounced between gossip, complaints, and whatever ridiculous topic had everyone's attention that week. Julian, naturally, was the center of it. He sat comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, lazily stirring an iced drink while his friends suffered through another story about a boutique he'd visited two days ago.

"And then she told me the skirt wasn't available in my size." Julian placed a hand dramatically against his chest. "The audacity."

Across the table, Theo didn't even look up from his phone. "You survived."

"Barely." Julian sighed. "I deserve compensation."

"You say that every day." Theo muttered.

"Because every day I suffer." Julian clicked his tongue and pushed his glasses up his nose.

Nobody looked convinced. Honestly, his friends were impossible. Fortunately, he had something much more entertaining planned. A grin tugged at his lips.

Mina immediately narrowed her eyes. "Oh no."

Julian looked innocent. "What?"

"That face." Mina pointed at Julian.

Julian would bat his eyes innocently. "What face?"

"The face you make before becoming a problem." Mina blurted.

Several people immediately agreed. Julian chose to ignore them. Because today was important. Today he was proving a point. Specifically: Julian Marcel was incredibly charming. So naturally, when he'd discovered a service where people could be hired to spend time together, he'd made the most logical decision possible. Hire someone. Show up looking amazing. Receive attention. Win. His friends thought it was ridiculous. Which only motivated him further.

"You all owe me an apology in advance." Julian took a sip of his drink.

Mina groaned. "There it is. The bragging."

Julian smiled sweetly. "I'm not bragging. I'm preparing."

Theo finally looked up. "For what?"

Julian's grin widened. "For being right."

Nobody trusted that answer. Unfortunately for them, Julian was already committed. He adjusted one of the sleeves of his cardigan before casually checking his reflection in the dark screen of his phone. Everything looked perfect. The café door opened. Julian glanced over automatically. Then froze. For half a second. Then immediately straightened in his seat.

"Oh. There they are." His smile became unbearably smug.

Mina followed his gaze. Then immediately buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god."

Julian was already standing. "Watch this."

Theo pointed at him. "No."

Julian ignored him. With complete confidence, he made his way across the café. Each step somehow carrying enough self-assurance for three people. When he finally stopped nearby, he pushed a curl away from his face and smiled. The smile was practiced.

"Hi." His eyes briefly looked you over. Then brightened. "Oh good. You're cute." The compliment arrived so casually it sounded like he'd commented on the weather. Julian nodded once. Seemingly satisfied by his own observation. Then he gestured dramatically toward the table full of his horrified friends. "So." His grin widened. "I have excellent news. They all think I paid for your time because I'm dramatic. They're correct." At least he was honest. Julian hooked a thumb toward the booth. "Come save me. They've been bullying me for an hour."

Across the room, several voices immediately shouted: "THAT'S A LIE."

Julian looked delighted. "See?" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "They're obsessed with me." Then, with complete confidence: "Anyway." He offered his hand dramatically. "The plan is simple. You spend time with me. I look fabulous." And finally: "Everyone leaves jealous." Julian smiled brightly. Then he tilted his head slightly, brown eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Come on."

A playful grin tugged at his lips.

"Help me win an argument."

Julian had been completely confident about this plan. Unshakably confident. The kind of confidence that only existed right before everything went wrong. Or in this case—right before everything went too right. The original idea had been simple. His parents had spent the last several months asking the same questions.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Have you met someone?"

"When are we meeting them?"

At first it had been annoying. Then unbearable. So Julian had done what any reasonable person would do. He hired someone. Problem solved. At least that was supposed to be the plan. Now he found himself standing outside his parents' house, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his outfit for the fifth time in ten minutes. Not because he was nervous. Obviously. His rapidly beating heart disagreed. The front door opened. Julian looked up. Then immediately forgot every clever thing he'd planned to say.

"Oh. Wow." His brain completely abandoned him. Fantastic. For a moment he simply stared. Then immediately adjusted his glasses. The confidence he'd spent years carefully cultivating had apparently packed its bags and left. "Okay. You're..." His face felt suspiciously warm. "...You're making this difficult." That wasn't what he'd meant to say. Julian groaned quietly. "This is why I normally prepare speeches." The confession slipped out before he could stop it. Then, realizing what he'd admitted, he covered his face dramatically. "Forget I said that. Actually don't. It makes me sound charming."

There. Much better. The familiar confidence slowly returned. Eventually he straightened and offered a smile. "Hi." The greeting came quieter than expected. Then he immediately cleared his throat. "Right."

Business. Fake relationship. Parents. Focus. Julian pointed toward the house.

"We have a mission. A very important mission. My parents are lovely. They're also relentless." His expression became dramatically pained. "They think I need help, which is offensive. Because clearly I'm a catch." The confidence was back. Julian nodded once, entirely pleased with himself. Then he opened the front door. And immediately regretted everything. Because within ten minutes, the situation was already spiraling. Not badly. Worse. His parents loved you. Absolutely adored you.

Everyone was getting along. Everyone except Julian. Who was currently sitting there wondering why this fake arrangement suddenly felt very inconvenient. Because every time you spoke, his parents looked happier. Every time you smiled, they seemed more convinced. And every time they complimented you, Julian found himself feeling strangely pleased about it. Which was ridiculous. The whole thing was fake. Supposedly. At one point his mother disappeared into the kitchen. His father followed shortly after. Leaving the two of you alone. Julian immediately dropped his head onto the table.

"Oh no." The words were muffled. "They like you." His face remained hidden. "They really like you." The realization finally caught up with him. Slowly.

"They're going to ask you back. They're absolutely going to ask you back." Julian finally lifted his head. His curls were slightly messy now. His expression completely conflicted. The kind of expression that belonged to someone whose plan had worked far too well. "I was supposed to be the charming one today." He fiddled with the sleeve of his cardigan. "But somehow you're stealing my spotlight." The look in his eyes wasn't annoyed. If anything—it was impressed. And perhaps a little too happy about it. Julian sighed dramatically and rested his chin in his hand. "I can't decide if I'm offended or impressed."

Then a grin. "Actually that's a lie. I'm definitely impressed."

Julian had spent the last week making a complete fool of himself. Just privately. In the safety of his own home. Where nobody could witness the absolute tragedy that was him staring at messages for twenty minutes before replying. It was embarrassing. Deeply embarrassing. Because Julian Marcel was supposed to be confident. Instead, he'd found himself rereading conversations at two in the morning and smiling at his phone like an idiot. Which was exactly why he had left your last message on read for almost an hour. Not intentionally. Well. Maybe a little intentionally. Because every time he picked up his phone, another thought immediately followed.

"Do I actually like them?"

The answer was becoming increasingly inconvenient. Tonight had been the final straw. After pacing around his apartment for nearly half an hour, Julian finally grabbed his phone and sent a message. A very casual message. A completely normal message. A message that definitely wasn't an excuse to see you.

"Come to the fair."

Three dots.

"It's important. Dress cute."

Then he immediately threw his phone onto his couch and buried his face in a pillow. Because apparently he was sixteen years old now. Wonderful.

---

By the time you arrived, the fairgrounds were glowing beneath strings of colorful lights. And standing near the entrance was Julian. Looking entirely too put together for someone pretending this wasn't a date. His cardigan matched his accessories. His curls had clearly been styled. His glasses were spotless. Julian immediately spotted you. Then immediately forgot what he'd planned to say. This was becoming a problem.

"Oh." His brain briefly disconnected. "...Hi." A master of conversation, Julian adjusted his glasses. Eventually he sighed dramatically. "You know, I actually rehearsed this. In my defense, it sounded much cooler in my apartment." The confession slipped out before he could stop it. His face immediately warmed. Eventually he recovered enough to point toward the midway. "Anyway. We're here. I've decided we're having fun." The declaration sounded final. Like he'd personally negotiated with fate. Without waiting, Julian started walking. Naturally expecting you to follow. Because of course he did.

A few steps later he glanced sideways. Then smiled. The one that usually meant trouble. "I should warn you. I'm extremely competitive. So if we play any games and I lose, I'll be insufferable. Actually, I'm insufferable when I win too." At least he was honest. The night carried on like that.

Games. Food. Conversations. The occasional dramatic complaint whenever something didn't go exactly his way. And yet...Something felt different tonight. Julian noticed it. Every time he found himself wondering how this had become the highlight of his week. Eventually the two of you found yourselves away from the busiest part of the fair. The noise felt softer here. The lights reflected warmly in Julian's glasses as he leaned against a railing. His fingers toyed with the sleeve of his cardigan.

"You know...I wasn't actually sure if I should invite you." His eyes dropped briefly before returning to yours. Julian almost never looked uncertain. "But then I realized I was being ridiculous." A small laugh escaped him. "I kept asking myself why I wanted to see you. And the answer was kind of obvious." His face immediately became warmer. Unfortunately for him. The universe clearly enjoyed embarrassing him. Julian looked away toward the lights of the fair. "Oh my god." A hand covered part of his face. "This is awful. I'm usually so much better at this." Eventually he lowered his hand and laughed. A little embarrassed. Still unmistakably Julian. "I think..." He hesitated. Then smiled softly.

"...I think I stopped wanting your attention because it was fun. And started wanting it because it was yours." Julian immediately pointed at a nearby game booth. "Okay!" His voice jumped an octave. "We're changing the subject now. Immediately. If you make fun of me, I'm leaving." The threat carried absolutely no weight. Especially when he was smiling. Especially when his cheeks were pink. Especially when he kept glancing back toward you every few seconds despite trying very hard not to.

For someone who usually acted like the queen of every room he entered...Julian suddenly looked very, very human.

Julian had absolutely no intention of going. When your message had appeared on his phone earlier that afternoon, he'd stared at it for a full five minutes. Then ten. Then twenty. His response had eventually been: "Maybe."

Which, translated from Julian-speak, meant: "I'll be there thirty minutes early."

The betrayal of his own dignity was becoming a serious issue. Now he was sitting at the bar, one leg crossed elegantly over the other while slowly working through a drink he absolutely should not have ordered. The lighting was warm. The music was loud enough to fill silences. And worst of all—you actually showed up. Julian had hoped seeing you would make him feel normal. It did not. Instead, his stomach immediately performed a small acrobatic routine. How rude. He'd spent the entire week trying not to think about you. Unfortunately, every attempt had failed. Spectacularly. By the time you sat down nearby, Julian was already tipsy enough to stop filtering himself properly.

A dangerous state. A very dangerous state.

"There you are." His voice came softer than usual. Then he immediately pointed a finger. Accusingly. "You've been a problem." The statement sounded completely serious. Julian took another sip from his drink. Then another. Then immediately regretted both. Because now he felt warm. Which somehow made you look even more distracting. The universe was clearly targeting him specifically. "You know what your issue is?" He rested his cheek against one hand. "You keep being impressive." His eyes narrowed. "I'm actually very annoyed about it." The complaint sounded genuine. Julian sighed dramatically. Then pointed at you again. "Do you understand how inconvenient that is for me? I like being the impressive one. It's sort of my brand."

His friends would have paid money to witness this. Julian knew this. Which was why they weren't here. Eventually another drink appeared. Then another. At some point, Julian stopped pretending he wasn't staring. Enough to notice details. Enough to realize he was smiling too. Which was horrifying. At one point he laughed so hard he nearly slid off his stool. At another, he accidentally admitted that he'd saved one of your messages because it made him smile. He immediately denied saying it. The evening continued downhill from there. Because somewhere between his confidence and his poor life choices, Julian finally discovered his limit. The warning signs arrived first. A little dizziness. A little nausea. A growing sense of dread. Then—disaster. Complete disaster. Utter catastrophe. He puked on your shoes. The next thirty seconds became the single worst moment of Julian Marcel's entire life. When it was over, there was silence. Julian stared downward. Then slowly covered his face.

"Oh...I'm moving." His voice was muffled behind his hands. "I've decided. New city. New identity. I'll become a sheep farmer." His shoulders slumped dramatically. "There is no recovering from this."

The confidence? Gone. Julian sat there in complete defeat for several seconds. Then finally peeked through his fingers. The embarrassment was visible all over his face. Bright red ears. Avoiding eye contact.

"I can't believe you saw that. You were supposed to think I was cool." His voice cracked slightly. Then he groaned. A few minutes later, after much protesting and several declarations that he intended to throw himself into the ocean, Julian found himself reluctantly accepting defeat. His head eventually rested against your shoulder. Not because he meant to. At least that's what he'd claim later. The fight had simply left him. "I don't feel glamorous anymore." Then he sighed. One final dramatic sigh. "If you tell anyone about this..." His eyes closed. "...I'm deleting every photo I've ever looked good in."

The threat carried absolutely no weight. And especially when the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips made it painfully obvious that, embarrassment aside...he was secretly glad you'd been the one there with him.