My mouth fell open for the second time that day. None of the others noticed as they were too busy being equally taken aback.

"Girlfriend?" Mr. Goy-Smith glanced at me then back to his son. "Why is this just the first I'm hearing of this?"

"Yeah," chimed Barry. "You never mentioned this to me, Shaunny."

"You guys never asked," Shaun used to justify.

"Oh, is that so?" Amusement was all that was apparent on his dad's face. He set his sights on me, kind smile even wider. "Well it's very nice to meet you— Stevie, was it?" He offered me his hand.

"Yeah," I confirmed, gladly accepting it. Mr. Goy-Smith's palm was callous and tough, as expected from a craftsman in his area.

"And I'm Barry Steinberg." The other man announced, suddenly growing an interest in my existence and stretching forth his own hand. "You can call me Barry."

I merely coerced the handshake out of politeness and kept it fairly short.

"Today has certainly turned out to be quite surprising," said Beswick with that scrutinising look on again. "Dylan." He placed a hand on Mr. Goy-Smith's shoulder. "I have a young and quite remarkably talented sculptor who's been very excited to meet with you. He has a piece on display in the east sector I believe you will die for."

"Oh, by all means," accepted Mr. Goy-Smith, brimming with intrigue.

"Maddie and Stevie, you two just got here so I reckon you haven't gotten a chance to see it yet then," Beswick deduced. "Care to join us?"

I could see the gleam in Ms. Dion's eyes. Mr. Beswick was welcoming her company- an invite that I was sure the man wasn't one to normally make out of courtesy to acquaintances. Perhaps it was a tease or a test but either way it was a step in the desired goal and Ms. Dion would take it.

"Certainly," she replied.

"Um actually," started Shaun before we could start on our new course. "Could Stevie and I go check out other pieces? I already had my own agenda planned out on which ones I wanted to see before I have to head back for practice."

Mr. Goy-Smith regarded the notion with raised browns and peered to Mr. Beswick. The two men chuckled.

"Alright, I can take a hint. You and your girlfriend can go ahead." His father winked and I found myself growing giddy by the pronoun.

Girlfriend. They said it again.

I had no idea what this was about but I definitely wasn't going to protest. All at once, Shaun swooped to my side and wrapped his arm around my torso binding us by the hips. "Thanks." He smiled. "We'll catch up to you guys later."

Ms. Dion flashed me this prideful look and continued onward to the sector with the other three men. The moment their figures were completely out of view, Shaun dropped his arm.

"I'm really sorry." He sputtered. "Before you slap me or yell at me, just hear me out. That Steinberg guy has been breathing over me all day and I just really wanted some space. I mean, I made a deal with my parents that I'd get better marks so he'd let me ditch class and come with him because I really wanted to see the gallery. But then I couldn't even go to the bloody toilet without Steinberg there calling me 'Shanny' every time." He cringed.

"So when I saw you, it just popped into my head that if I said we were dating, my dad would give us some alone time and Steinberg would have to go too. That's all. I'm sorry for dragging you into a lie and inconveniencing you but..."

As he rambled in his nervous state, I let out a breath. Oh. So that had been it. Well what had I been expecting? That he was aware of my crush and said that to boldly return my feelings? This wasn't some sappy love story. On the brighter side, at least it wasn't a dream.

I held Shaun's arm to grab his attention. "Shaun, relax. I get it. I'm not mad and I'm not going to slap you. It's fine."

Sheer relief washed over his tensed posture. "Okay. Cool. Thanks."

"No problem."

"I almost didn't recognise you," he confessed. "You look really nice in this outfit."

A bashful smile creeped onto my lips. "Thanks. You look really nice too."

"I hope so. My mum made me spend three hours getting dressed," he stated. "So, what's your connection with that French woman?"

"She's my aunt. Not blood related though."

"Oh, sorry if I'm getting in the way of your time."

"I told you, it's alright." I slipped my fingers in between his and a part from the flutters than ran amok in my insides, it was the surprise on Shaun's face at my gesture that was most captivating. "I've never been to an art gallery before so in return, could you give me a tour?"

The stunned expression was only temporal before he broke into a gushing smile. "Um, sure."

He tightened our entwined fingers and I happily let myself be led through the artistic labyrinth. I didn't know if Shaun had been to this place before which was possible, as he was the son of an apparent big shot but I was impressed at how he moved with ease.

I'd derived from his social media platforms he had a spot for art but it had never revealed the depth. I found myself even more enamoured by the boy as I watched him describe the objective, the contrasts and tooling of the artworks we toured.

"Sorry. Am I saying too much? My mates tend to shut me up when I go overboard about this stuff."

"No no." I shook my head. "It's really interesting."

Shaun had on an adorably coy smile and I knew he'd finally relaxed now.

"And your dad and Beswick— they seem to be pretty close," I started.

"That's cause Beswick and my mum have been friends since secondary. She introduced him to my dad at their wedding," Shaun explained. "Even after taking on different career paths, they stayed closed. Like this current project Beswick is starting, it's a clothing line inspired by the Hawaiian culture. My mum was born and raised there so she played a big part in helping out. You know, my dad told me they even have sleepovers at each others houses and build pillow forts and everything."

"What? At their age?"

Shaun nodded. "Dad passed me the pics of the fort they sent him." He retrieved his phone to have my eyes see for themselves.

It was astonishing and not by the humungous stack of pillows or how hilariously funny Beswick and Mrs. Goy-Smith looked camped out in it but the sole fact that despite being past the age but still indulging childhood necessities, it was a friendship I found promoting.

"So what's this whole Steinsberg deal?" I asked. "He was saying he's your mentor and everything."

Shaun rolled his eyes. "He just started calling himself that out of nowhere."

He went on to explain the course of events that led him here.

"It started two weeks ago. Our school rugby team had this match and one of my mates points me to this dodgy bloke who's been sitting in at the matches recently but only watching me. I don't take it seriously until I see it for myself— the guy is only looking at me. Now I'm freaking out thinking it's some pedo or stalker and then the next day, the coach brings out this new sponsor which turns out to be him."

"Barry Steinberg?" I derived.

Shaun nodded with a sigh. "I was pissing myself until I found out his field was a designer and he starts asking about Beswick, then I realise he's just after looking good in my dad's eyes because he knows they're close friends."

"Oh."

Right then, a waiter strolled by and Shaun casually accepted a glass. I passed the boy a pointed look as he took a sip.

"What?"

"Isn't that alcoholic?"

"Yeah..."

"And you're not eighteen."

"I know but it's just one glass. I won't get drunk or anything."

"Is that the voice of experience?" I queried.

"I'm not...!" He stopped himself when his abrupt volume pitch echoed, his cheeks flushed. "I'm not a drinker or anything like that, Stevie. It's just sometimes at big events they pass around champagne and I get poured some so I kind of built a tolerance but I don't do it constantly. I swear. It's just occasions."

The desperation in his voice and anxiety in hoping I didn't misunderstand somehow gave the boy a more attractive glow in my eyes. Why?

"I didn't think you were, Shaun. I was just teasing," I assured him.

He blinked several times. "Oh... okay. Good." He traced a finger along the rim of the glass.

"So if you know Steinberg's real reason for getting close to you, why not just call him out or tell your dad?"

"Believe me, I've considered it a lot but, our team had one of the lowest funded in St. Sinclair clubs so I thought why not use it to my advantage? I know, that's dirty isn't it?"

"It's not." I disagreed. "He's only trying to gain favours so why not help yourself? You're thinking of your teammates too. It's a very selfless decision."

"You think?"

"Absolutely."

"Thanks."

I inwardly shook my head at it all. Whoever said maturity had nothing to do with age was right. To think grown men stooped to such means for leverage. All I could see the current scenario as was a chess game. The players were making their moves and sacrifices to apprehend the king. Mr. Goy-Smith was just an oblivious pawn to the goal.

However, the 'King' in this instance didn't appear so helpless. Irrespective of what little I'd seen, I could sense Beswick was a shrewd man and Ms. Dion was aware of it too. Unlike that shamelessly transparent Steinberg, she knew she needed more than a little homework on the prick's relations to get her deal.

Unfortunately, she believed her best arsenal was supposed luck. Luck which crazy enough seemed to be happening with the unreal turn of events of me knowing the son of their pawn. Or what, was I really her fated spirit guide?

No way.

I pitied Mr. Goy-Smith and Shaun being entangled in these fronts. Mr. Beswick was clearly enjoying the scheming too.

'Politics, war, crime— everything the world prioritises is just mucking about.'

Garren's words resounded in my ears at that and I was frightened that maybe I was losing it because it sounded so true and right.

"I'm really glad I ended up running into you today, Stevie."

Shaun's sudden statement drew me out of my thoughts. "You've helped me clear my head a bit. Also, I've been meaning to talk about the uh, the whole contacting you thing."

Immediately, the two texts I'd ignored came to mind. Had he taken it that I disliked him? "I'm sorry I ignored those. I-"

"It's okay. I get it. It's better that you did because I probably wouldn't have been able to control myself and overstepped my boundaries."

"Boundaries?"

He nodded timidly. "I know you only wanted my number as a friend and I wanted to keep that in mind too. But, it wouldn't be right texting someone else's girlfriend with other feelings-"

"Wait, wait wait." I raised my hand. "Hold on one second. How has this jumped to texting someone's girlfriend? I'm not following."

"You and Garren are dating, aren't you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Garren. He's your boyfriend."

A bark of laughter erupted in the room and I realised it was coming from me. I didn't bother fussing at the stares I received. I was too gobsmacked at what I'd heard.

"Garren Adler is not my boyfriend," I firmly clarified. "No. No way in hell."

Shaun appeared stumped to say the least. I should've been the stumped one. Had he been thinking that this whole time with every conversation we've had?

"I thought cause... well- I don't know. It was just a feeling I was getting but I guess I was wrong," he murmured, staring down at his glass. I could see the signs of a little smile creeping on his lips, however.

Then that had to mean one thing then. With everything he just said, I wasn't wrong to assume that my feelings were reciprocated.

"Shaun." I breathed.

He nervously brought his eyes back to me and from there the words flowed with no hesitance.

"I can't go ahead with pretending to be your girlfriend, even if it's to get rid of Steinberg. Because I wanna be your real one."

As much as I was surprised by my own confidence, I wasn't anticipating on my confession to strike Shaun so intensely that he lost on concentration in keeping his fingers folded and there was glass shattering.

**

Shaun was a blubbering mess of apologies to the staff who attended to the broken glass and I was secretly holding back a few chuckles. Although, there was no chance for me to receive an answer in between that and Mr. Goy-Smith inviting me to join his party for lunch.

I experienced my first visit to a restaurant landscaped sixteen metres above the ground. I felt like a bird soaring with so many towering buildings beneath my vision when I'd peer at the skyline view.

I'd counted Barry had glanced down at Ms. Dion's blouse thrice in between the few bites at my delicious appetizer and Beswick's phone he hadn't placed aside had pinged ten times since we acquired a table. Each message only taking a few seconds of swift finger strokes. I could make a melody out of it.

His eyes gravitated from the screen but they passed his untouched plate onto me. "Something wrong?"

He'd noticed my staring. "No." I shook my head. "Just, your tapping is really noisy."

I pretended not to catch Ms. Dion giving me a look by my comment. Since meeting up, she was so wary of a mere unfolded napkin wrecking things. I predicted she'd probably be making a break for the bathroom for a smoke by how much her fork had wobbled.

Beswick didn't look the least bit annoyed by my statement. "That makes two of us. But, I decided to keep it and do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't know the function to turn it off on this bloody thing."

The males all cracked up in laughter at that, Mr. Goy-Smith especially. He had to be one of the most blissful men I'd ever meant. "I know the feeling. Sometimes I have to get Shaun to give me a hand. These days they even have woman programmed to talk to you."

"It's a voice search engine, dad. It's not an actual person." Shaun notified him. When his eyes caught mine, he immediately averted them.

Seriously, he had to be the cutest boy on the planet.

"So, Mr. Goy-Smith," began Ms. Dion, "how's your wife doing? I would've thought she'd have accompanied you."

It was only a moment. Maybe less than a second but Mr. Beswick faltered from his consistent tapping. I had his noisy sound effect to thank as my ears picked up on the imbalance on the note and I was able to catch a very peculiar expression painted on the astute 'King'.

It vanished in a heartbeat.

"Said she was coming down with a cold I'm afraid to say." answered Mr. Goy-Smith.

"Really? She told me it was a migraine this morning." chimed Shaun.

His father shrugged. "Could be both. She looked pretty pale so we agreed it was best she'd sit this one out. Probably had one too many drinks when she pulled an all nighter yesterday with Oliver here." He patted the dormant male sat beside him. "Since way back, that woman's always been such a workaholic. Hasn't she?"

"Indeed." Beswick agreed and I almost swore I'd imagined the expression from how calm he responded.

Except I knew what I saw wasn't my imagination. It was an opening. Just a rough one but I was willing to take a gamble on it, all I needed were the cards. I spent the next minutes nodding my head or smiling along to the chatter as we proceeded to the main course.

Eventually, I'd reached three alternative hands. I took one observation at Beswick jeering at a tale with Mr. Goy-Smith and reached my decision.

"Shaun," I started, "could I borrow your phone for a moment? Mine's dead and I need to send a message to my folks."

"Sure." He obediently complied, as I'd pictured in my mental rehearsal.

He was even trusting enough to supply the password, confirming he was the safer option to go with. "Thanks." I smiled and he turned his pretty eyes back to his meal without a second glance.

I didn't waste time in sending a message but I felt no pressure of being monitored. Shaun had gone back to enjoying his meal and trying not to roll his eyes at Barry, blissfully unaware of my other pursuits. It took only a matter of seconds to find what I needed.

The contact photo was enough to verify it without the heading; Mum. I carefully read the string digits, it was always easier to save them to memory when I paced myself.

I used up to a full two minutes before assuring that I had it down to a tee. I returned Shaun's phone and contemplated on taking a couple mouthfuls until I reminded myself that no one would warrant my actions as suspicious. I stood up, informing the table I needed the toilet and as expected, none batted an eye.

Nor did they notice me holding my phone in my hands as I departed. I entered a vacant stall and my screen came on to reveal several missed calls.

I opted to initiate my plan first off and took a breath. I couldn't deny I was nervous and the plan failing wouldn't be the biggest reason why. I punched in the digits and once contemplating on what would be the most believable mannerism, I manouvered my fingers to a new chat slot and striped it with its first log.

It's me Oliver. I need you to promise me your not gonna tell Dylan about what you did last night

I read it over a few times until I had enough conviction to hit send.

Never had seconds felt so slow in all my life and doubts filling my head. If she resorted to call, would I be able to divert it? Or if she knew I was an imposter- the possibilities seemed infinite until my phone finally buzzed and when my eyes took in the response, all apprehension dissipated.

No one questioned my time occupied in the toilet and I'd never known until then that insignificance held such a charm. The rest of the lunch was pleasant, mostly because of Mr. Goy-Smith as he seemed to possess the ability to just bring out the joy in people. He cracked hilarious jokes and I ended up with an invite to have dinner at his house once he finished his business trip overseas in order to properly get to know his future daughter-in-law.

Shaun had turned the deepest shade of red that wasn't from his sports this time round. Even if I knew it was purely a joke, my head didn't hesitate to run with wedding fantasies.

As we began departing, Barry discreetly handed Ms. Dion a card before issuing himself off first and the relief in Shaun's eyes were livid. He finally met my gaze and it was only to follow a shy smile then tailing his dad to their car.

Ms. Dion read the paper with confusion.

"What's on it?" I questioned.

"Just his number." She flipped the card to verify and it came up blank. "What's he giving me this for?"

"I don't know how it worked in your days but that's to say he wants to keep in touch."

"Why?"

"Cause he fancies you."

Ms. Dion was bewildered. "Who?"

"You. The pain in the ass likes you. Didn't you see how he kept checking you out in the restaurant?"

Ms. Dion had an absent stare to nothing in particular, lost beyond words. It appeared she really hadn't noticed. Gradually she turned to her driver. "Vincent give me a sec. I need to use the powder room."

I decided to act oblivious just out of sympathy for what had probably been a chaotic event for her. Tomorrow, I'd look up the effectiveness of nicotine patches and other remedies.

Right as I was to slip into the car, Beswick came into my line of sight. He was leant by a Porsche polished enough to look brand new as he was still busy on his phone.

I spared a glance to Ms. Dion starting to the restaurant and waited a few seconds before deciding to put what had been brewing in my mind into action. To say I confidently strode up to him wouldn't be accurate. Only my conviction sustained confidence but everything outside of that didn't apply.

I unquestionably looked like a lost little girl stumbling into a tide. I wasn't lost though.

"Hey."

He registered that I stood a few good inches apart and trained his eyes back on the screen. "Oh, you. Do you need something from me?"

"I guess." I peered to my left and right amongst the passersby on the street. None seemed to be paying us any mind.

"And what is it?"

"Are you considering either Ms. Dion or Mr. Steinberg to be involved in your upcoming project?"

He chuckled. "I don't think that's any of your business, love. Did your 'aunt' put you up to asking me this? That's a pretty poor move on her end, I've got to say. I'm a little disappointed. She should know I prefer tall brunettes."

"Like Mrs. Goy-Smith, right?"

Narrowed eyes struck mine in lightning speed. Beswick's thumb lay immobile over his device. "Excuse me?" He kept his tone poise which sadly didn't do him any good on a pretense with the reaction.

"The affair you had with Mrs. Goy-Smith last night. That's why she didn't show up for the exhibition. It must've been too hard on her, knowing you'd be there. Or was it maybe from shame?"

It wasn't as apparent but it flashed on his steel features again. I never would've recognised it so well if not for Ashton and Liam. The look of guilt. Apparently, even pricks couldn't escape it.

"I don't know how you arrived at such nonsense, but get out of my sight right this instance if you know what's good for you."

His austere stone was chilling and the look in his ominous gaze said it was far from an empty threat. Strangely, I was ecstatic at that because it meant I was right. Innocent men didn't jump to taunts. My first whimsical guess was absolutely right on the mark. I'd never felt such satisfaction like it before. The feeling was indescribable.

"How I arrived at that?" I parroted. "I just told you. But if you mean incriminating evidence..." I proceeded to bring my phone, confirming the chat log was onscreen before presenting it to him.

Beswick eyes grew squinted at first before they read each verse, imploding with horror.

It must've been like seeing a ghost. Bewildered on how a log between him and Mrs. Goy-Smith discussing the affair materialised into a virtual chat.

I retracted the phone before he could snap out of the shock and seize it from my hands. "It was me who typed your lines, in case you were wondering. You could say it wasn't you and people would believe it since it's not your number but, that can't be done with Mrs. Goy-Smith. It's clearly her line and she brought up facts too intimate for a stranger to know which helped tremendously since I had to be vague. She could hire a lawyer but if it got leaked out to the press, then—"

I stopped abruptly when all at once, Beswick moved close enough for me to pick up his cologne without option. I'd almost describe the face he bore as murderous.

"Don't you dare." His voice a whisper that held enough hostility to be deafening.

I swallowed. I was getting under his skin. He somehow seemed more human ironically, in comparison to the stoic steel persona he flaunted around in. Granted, the biggest industries always prioritised the business over the soul. It was a defense mechanism for success.

That was how people with pure emotions like Ms. Dion became warped. Sacrificing things like that all for the sake of desired endeavours. I wondered if they found it worth it at the end of the day? Maybe I was too young to form an opinion just yet.

My mind was clear on one thing though. I would be a support in the best way I could.

"Okay, I'll delete them," I answered. "As long as Ms. Dion gets considered."

He scoffed. "Are you actually trying to blackmail me? Do you have any idea who I am?"

"You're a backstabber and a prick and an adulterer. Yes, I know exactly who you are."

If there was any trace of the man who sat coolly in the presence of what was the embodiment of his betrayal and sins, it was incomprehensible now. All that stood was a gutted, chewed up scumbag who knew I was right.

The etched scowl on Beswick's face was vibrant enough to be put on display on the gallery. Definitely a spectacle.

My fingers were practically itching for his next move. Whatever hand he'd play was more than a mystery and that reality was tantalising. Any result would be out of my calculations.

The answer revealed itself as Beswick turned, unlocking his car door and situating himself behind the wheel. I received one final glare before he sped off.

So running like a coward was apparently the result. I couldn't classify it soundly as a checkmate when I wasn't sure on whether he'd agree to my demands but I'd definitely breached his defense lines and that for me, was undoubtedly a check.

**

I made small talk with Vincent for several minutes until Ms. Dion returned. She went into a babble about how she told me she was right to bring me along, it was undeniably fate that tied me dating the famous sculptor's son and gaining her access to that lunch. I refrained from mentioning me dating Shaun was all a front. After all, I wasn't entirely sure what we were anymore.

"Beswick was a lot more insufferable than I remembered." She sighed. "If I'm going to work with him, I might need to carry a gun."

"I'm sure your scissors will work just fine." I replied.

It earned me a chuckle. "You seem to be in a good mood. Did you have fun today?"

For once, I could gladly give a completely honest answer. "Yeah, I did."