Page 11 of Fake It 'Til You Feel It

“Just selling the act.” I add with a smirk.

She snorts, without smoothing it over this time, and shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”

I’ve heard her scoff before, seen her roll her eyes, but this—this little snort of hers—is new. Unfiltered. A real reaction slipping past her usual control.

I could tease her for it. Point it out, make her glare at me like she always does.

But if I do, she might stop doing it.

So instead, I lean back, choosing not to push, just to see if I can get her to do it again.

“And you’re irresistible,” I counter, keeping my tone light so it doesn’t sound too real.

For a second, she’s frozen. Just watching me, eyes unreadable.

Then she shakes her head and storms out, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood.

I follow her, pulse still pounding.

Things just got so much more interesting.

The retreat’sActivity Center is alive with raucous chatter and laughter when we arrive. I watch curiously as couples bond over games and activities. A giant whiteboard announces the day’s main event: Couple’s Trivia Challenge. Dana pauses, her brow arching as she reads it.

“This should be fun,” I say, coming to a stop next to her, making sure to keep my tone light.

“For you or me?” she replies, her lips twitching in a smirk.

“We make a good team,” I state, tugging her gently toward the sign-up table.What’s the best way to convince her to do this?“Think of it as a way to keep up the act.”

Dana sighs dramatically, her shoulders sagging and her feet dragging, but doesn’t resist. A staff member hands us a small tablet, and we’re seated among a mix of couples—some young, some older, all watching the screen with amused competitiveness.

To our left, a couple in their sixties exchanges knowing glances, their hands already intertwined on the table. Across from us, a pair that looks newly in their honeymoon phase whisper conspiratorially, the woman giggling as her partner bumps her knee playfully against hers.

It’s a strange mix—some couples exuding decades of familiarity, others still in the giddy stage of discovery. I don’t know which category Dana and I fall into.

The first round of questions appear on the screen.

“What is your partner’s favorite dessert?” Dana reads aloud, glancing at me. “This should be easy.”

“Chocolate mousse,” I answer confidently. She arches a brow, but taps it in.

I challenge the reaction immediately. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” she admits grudgingly. “But don’t get cocky.”

The questions grow increasingly personal, testing our knowledge of each other’s habits and preferences. With every correct answer, Dana’s confidence seems to build. When the results flash on the screen, we’re in first place.

“Looks like we’re winning,” I whisper, leaning closer.

“We’re good at this,” she replies, her voice softer than usual.

As the final round begins, the host asks each couple to demonstrate a shared skill.

Dana signals the host to play music, and suddenly, a slow, elegant waltz spills from the speakers. I barely have time to react before her fingers lace through mine, pulling me forward.

“Trust me,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

She moves first, stepping smoothly into the rhythm, her body aligning with mine. I let her lead—for all of two steps.

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