Page 83 of It's Not All Fake

“I told you.” Ashley winks.

We find two seats at the end of one of the middle rows. Ashley slides in first, leaving me on the aisle. The last time I was in a theater this grand was with Liam. A pang of sadness hits me, but I push it aside quickly.

“What kind of trailers are these?” I finally think to ask, curious about the genre. I had assumed it would be a mix of all types, but I don’t know for sure. I silently hope it’s not a series of horror films.

“They’re, uh… romance trailers,” she replies nonchalantly, taking a sip of her soda.

“You brought me to watch ten different love stories?” I ask, incredulous. My heart is still mending. She thinks I’m ready to watch others succeed in love when my own love life is a dumpster fire?

“They’re only three minutes each. You’ll be fine,” she reassures me.

“Is this some kind of radical post-breakup therapy?” I demand, trying to understand what the hell she’s thinking.

Ashley turns to me, her expression serious now. “Yes, actually. How else are you supposed to get your hope back? You can’t do that by avoiding life.”

Her accusation stings, and she notices my wince, her expression softening.

“Look,” she says more gently, “Zak got us these tickets, so let’s just watch and have a good time.” She offers a gentle smile.

I sigh, giving in. “You’re buying me the biggest drink after this.”

“That’s the spirit.” She beams.

As the lights dim, I brace myself. I’m trying hard to ignore the fact that Liam is still under my skin, and I’m convinced this will not help me. The last thing I want is to be reminded of the fairytale I created in my head, as fleeting as the images on this screen. But here I am, strapped in for the ride.

The first trailer lights up the screen. It's a classic friend zone scenario. The guy, slightly nerdy but undeniably attractive, vies for the girl’s attention. Their kiss at the end of the trailer feels like a knife twisting into my stomach, but I survive it.

I look away from the screen to the sticky theater floor, spotting an ancient, hardened piece of bubble gum cemented near my shoe. It strikes me that Liam is like that gum—stuck to me, seemingly permanent and impossible to remove.

Did I fuck things up? He said he loved me…

My discomfort grows as the screening rolls into a friends-turned-lovers tale followed by a couple of boss-employee romances. I loathe Ashley for bringing me here. My memories of Liam are too fresh, too raw. I’d rather pretend love doesn’t exist at all than continue to sit here and remember us.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, contemplating an escape, but Ashley’s hand firmly grasps my arm.

“Just wait, it’s almost over,” she urges.

Reluctantly, I settle back as the next trailer begins. It opens with a scene of wealthy young men at a driving range.

“It’s hard to find anything real in this town,” one of the men comments before taking his swing. The camera pans to another man?—

My breath catches. It’s Charles Day—Charlie—as Liam would call him. I’ve been a fan since high school, and recognizing him lightens my spirits, reminding me of simpler, starry-eyed times. I didn't know he was in a new film. I sink back into my seat, reassured that perhaps not all romance is lost to me.

“So, buy something really nice and fake. You’ll never tell the difference,” Charlie quips, hitting a perfect drive.

His character exudes a cool detachment, which I anticipate will thaw in typical romantic fashion.

The scene shifts to Charlie and the leading lady, Lana Hartt, stepping out of a limo at a Hollywood event.

They’re stunning—a perfect pair. They’re good together, I think, recalling Liam’s words. I feel a pang of sadness even as I try to focus on the screen.

Charlie drapes his arm around Lana. Lightbulbs are flashing, paparazzi everywhere.

It looks eerily familiar.

Charlie pulls Lana close and murmurs, “Smile.”

My stomach turns upside down. It can’t be.

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