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    Summary

    "Belly, look, in all seriousness," he says, catching his breath but still grinning, "you can't hire an escort. I can’t believe Agnes actually suggested that."

    My eyes widen. "Oh my god, Conrad, no! She wasn't suggesting I hire an escort. She was suggesting..."

    The words die in my throat. I trail off, looking at him—really looking at him—and realise there is no version of reality where I can comfortably say, 'She was suggesting you pretend to be my fake boyfriend so I can trick my ex into thinking I'm dating a brilliant, brooding Stanford doctor.'

    "What?" Conrad asks, his smile softening into something more curious, more focused.

    "What'd I miss?" Agnes’s voice cuts through the air as she slides back into the booth, drink in hand, sounding way too cheerful for someone who just abandoned her post. She looks between us, her eyebrows practically reaching her hairline when she sees how close we’re sitting.

    ---

    Or, an AU fic loosely based on The Wedding Date, featuring a scheming Agnes and a Conrad who's secretly been harbouring a crush on (a completely oblivious) Belly for the past six months.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
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