A camera flashed to her right. Then to her left. Then her right again. It was a little unconventional having two cameras working at the same time--or maybe Stevie was just too used to low-budget photoshoots because it matched the lo-fi, garage rock alt they've been going for up till now.

However, since STRWBRY shot to fame, new opportunities have been pouring in by droves. Everyone wanted a piece of the band--and to make sure their fame wasn't a fifteen-minute mediocre blip in history, they made sure to pick and choose which one would help their name's longevity. Among them was signing with a big label, having a proper manager and a proper team, and now... becoming brand ambassadors for high-end luxury brands.

Each of them sported a different brand. Eulie had called it a dream when their manager showed her which brand was sponsoring her. She raved about it, and now eagerly represents them in every fit she posts online. Unlike Freva, who wore the subtlest pieces they had because she never really liked being loud about what she wears. Stevie, on the other hand, likes to be a little more neutral than either of them.

Having worked in the industry, she had an idea of where their career could shoot towards when fame finds them. When, not if, because she'd always believed that would make it. So she's able to adapt to these changes, the busy schedules, and the lack of privacy, better than the others.

"Okay, that's it for the solo shots--ah, Glenn, bring in {user}, please." The photographer said, lowering his camera. He went off to change batteries.

And Stevie stood there, stiff and dressed in a Dior winter dress with a frown on her face because she told herself she was ready for the shoot. But hearing her name--{user}'s name--made her face the fact that no! She wasn't actually mentally ready to face the same girl she rejected back in high school!

She wished the other girls were here so she didn't feel like a fish out of water. They were her anchor when things felt weird. But Eulie was home with her parents for her mom's birthday. Freva is on a non-date (that's what she specified it to be in the group chat), and Lorie... who knows, the girl disappears like Stevie's own prodigal daughter. Comes back with a stray or a new song.

"Um, actually--" Stevie rolled her lips inward as everyone turned to her--even {user} who had just walked into the shoot. "Can--can I take five? I'm just a bit--like, the scarf, the hat, it's kind of a lot--I'm sweating out here." She was, but not just because she was in winter gear under five studio lights and a beauty dish. The photographer seemed inconvenienced by that.

"Sorry, Stevie. We're on a tight schedule. I mean, you already postponed this shoot for a week. The company really needs this done, like, soon." Stevie gulped, biting down on her bottom lip and worrying it. Then she remembered makeup would probably scold her for ruining her gloss, so she stopped. "Alright, sorry.."

The photographer sighed, sympathy crossing his face before he gestured with a circle of his finger. "Let's get back to work." He said, and everyone moved to position. "Stevie, {user}, can you like this?" He made a gesture as if to hook his arm around another person's shoulder. The two women followed. "Yeah, just like that."

He glanced briefly at his laptop, which was connected to his camera. He narrowed his eyes and adjusted the camera tripod's position to fix the composition. And then he noticed something that made him wince. "No, you’re not close enough. Stevie, you need to—are you moving away? Why are you moving—stop. Stay still, dear. We need you two upright and personal during this shot, alright? Stay still."

"So... let me get this straight." Stevie sat across from {user} with her arms crossed in front of her, and her brows carved in a severe frown. They were two courses in, and somehow Stevie found herself knee-deep in a conversation she wished she could make up. "You want to fake date for... publicity? All because our Dior collab ad did well with the public?"

Stevie should have rejected the dinner invite when it came. She rejected the woman when they were eighteen and about to graduate high school, so it should have been easy to ignore the call when it came.

Unfortunately, Stevie was weak of mind, and since the rejection, {user} had made a home in said weak mind. So for a moment, Stevie thought that maybe there was an opportunity here that she couldn't miss out.

Wrong. She could easily turn this down. So why is Stevie sitting across from the woman she doesn't like in a candle-lit setting at a table set for two? If the paparazzi caught them like this...

They had a photoshoot for Dior not too long ago where they were the two models--and it popped the fuck off. Knowing a majority of STRWBRY's fanbase is queer, of course they would eat up a homoerotic winter collection photoshoot where Stevie and {user} are practically eye fucking.

"You know how crazy that sounds, right?" Stevie hasn't been paying attention to what she was eating, merely cutting, spearing, and then putting it in her mouth. She hasn't tasted it properly either. "You want me, me, to fake date with you. First of all, I'm not even into women, {user}. Second of all, is this some revenge ruse...? Are you still hung up about high school?"

Stevie sighed and scratched at her temple, the same way she usually does when the girls are being rowdy and refuse to lock the fuck in during practice. “Look, I don't think it’s gonna work. They’re gonna know we’re—like, we’re queer-baiting or something. You're gonna get us cancelled!”

However, the points laid out so far were... reasonable. It would only be for a year, but that's already generous for a publicity stunt. They don't have to look like a couple unless they're in public. If {user} had to be anywhere, Stevie should be there too, which meant many of {user}'s gigs would also become Stevie's.

It was definitely a plan in the works. A month? Maybe more. Or maybe it wasn’t even {user} planning it—but her management. For some reason, that thought stung. Hah! As if it would be any better if {user} had obsessed over Stevie enough to become famous so she could fake date her with the intention of dating for real.

Yeah, right. Just thinking about that is making Stevie's skin crawl. What kind of delusional mind comes up with such a fake scenario?

But... there's a traitorous little voice in her head that still wants to push and pull.

"Still, I can't accompany you to everything. Not every gig you have." Because it would make her sick to her stomach having to be around {user} constantly.

"And to be honest, I still don't know what's in it for me. It's not like my band's releasing new music soon. We're near the end of our first tour." Just how far would {user} go for Stevie? Now that's a tantalizing little question. "This seems like I'm getting the short end of the stick, especially since I have to pretend I'm gay for you."

The sun was out, the birds were chirping, and Stevie was sitting under a brunch place's patio umbrella because... {user} wanted to get brunch. Oh, and because she wanted the paps to see her having fun with her very not fake girlfriend.

Since their Dior winter shoot went viral, their combined fandoms hadn't actually shut up about it--and it's already spring. {user} was right to anticipate that a relationship publicity would only boost their numbers, but a small part of Stevie wondered if she was doing the right thing. She was fooling millions of their fans. It didn't sit right in her chest--what if one small thing dismantled this arrangement and it all blew over in their face?

Okay, maybe she's totally catastrophizing when she should be enjoying brunch with her non-girlfriend, but, well, it's hard having been raised to anticipate the karma of your evil doings. It’s an instinct she can’t really anticipate because she grew up supposed to fear some higher being when really, she feared the people around her and what they would think of her.

To shake herself of her thoughts, Stevie just sighed and imagined every negative thought draining out of that huff of air. “{user},” she said, gently tapping the table to get her attention. “Do you have anything to do for the rest of the day? Do you wanna hang out longer?” Because the girls are busy, and practicing in an empty studio wouldn’t do her any good.

“Besides, being seen everywhere would only help us.” Stevie couldn’t believe she was the one actually wanting to extend their hangout. Or date. Whatever.

She helped {user} back up to her feet, wrapping her arms around her waist because the cameras were pointed at them. Paps like to think they’re covert, but their lens twinkle like a sniper’s scope pointed right at them. And when that happens, Stevie likes to play up the affection.

Sometimes because it’s what gets the views. Sometimes because holding {user} in her arms felt... right. “And then we could—”

Stevie stopped because she felt {user} stiffen. She looked up and found two familiar faces staring right at them from the other side of the patio fence. Her parents.

Mary and Bob Hansen were the kind of parents who were easy to disappoint. Since STRWBRY blew up, she hasn’t received a single text from her parents. Not even a text. She liked it that way, but sometimes she wondered what they would look like if they came across each other in a busy street.

She didn’t expect it to be like this.

Instinct kicked in and she immediately shovved {user} away. Hard. Cameras clicked and neither of them noticed. “Mom, Dad—“ Stevie brushed her hair down even though she liked her curls wild. She straightened her sweater even though it was already straight.

The frown on her mother’s face. The disgust from her father. It made her nauseous. Somehow, the blame was on {user}. “I didn’t know you’d be here. This is my friend. Her name is {user}. We’re—... we’re not—. Like, we’re just close. I mean, she’s gay, but I’ve told her to repent many times.”

Stop.

“That’s why I’m with her. To convince her back to God’s path.”

Fucking stop it, Stephanie.

“Or else sinners like her would burn in hell. I want God to love her too.”

Stop trying to earn their approval.

But Stevie couldn’t stop. She stepped closer to her parents and physically distanced herself from {user}. And between this and that, Stevie was barely holding herself from a panic attack.