A/N: Based on the challenge I gave you all last night, you earned 4 CHAPTERS! So chapters 3, 4, 5, and 6 are updated :,) enjoy your reading ♡ more comments on updates = more updates lol

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𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The venue was filled with energy, a mix of soft jazz from the live band and the low hum of conversation. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over the room, champagne was being served all around the room.

Events like this always felt like controlled chaos—polished on the surface but buzzing underneath. I didn't really want to come but, my team told me I had to show face especially because the event was being ran by a sponsor of mine and I'm the face of their next campaign.

I adjusted my blazer, the tailored fabric sitting snugly against my shoulders as I made my way to the bar.

Dylan had bailed on me—classic Dylan—and now I was going through this social labyrinth solo. Speaking of the devil.

Stiles Stilinski 🥍:
You're going to have so much fun

Stiles Stilinski 🥍:

Fake Steve Rogers ⍟:
Fuck off 🙄

I replied clearly annoyed.

"Y/n! There you are!"

I turned to see Isabela Merced weaving through the crowd, her dark eyes lighting up as she approached.

She was effortlessly stunning in a sleek black dress, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Her radiant smile felt like a lifeline in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

"Isabela," I greeted with genuine warmth. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Right? I almost didn't come," she said, looping her arm through mine. "My publicist insisted. Something about staying relevant and schmoozing." She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Ah, the glamorous life," I teased, leading us toward the bar. "Champagne?"

"Please. If I'm going to endure this, I need bubbles."

As the bartender poured, we leaned against the counter, talking about how boring everything was but, we ended up making things fun just with our simple conversation.

Isabela was effortlessly charming, her sharp wit matched by an easy laugh that made everything feel less formal. She had this magnetic energy, the kind that made you want to lean in and stay close.

We'd been paired at a few events over the last few years so, she's like a safety blanket when I have to be at these things.

"So, why haven't you dipped yet?" she asked, tilting her head playfully. "Networking? Content? Looking for love?"

I snorted. "None of the above. I have to stay and show my face for the campaign and you know, per usual, Dylan bailed, so now I'm just here pretending to look busy."

She clinked her glass against mine. "Well, now you've got me. Consider your night saved."

A photographer meandered toward us, his camera poised. Isabela caught him out of the corner of her eye and leaned in closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm.

"Quick, act like we're having the time of our lives," she whispered, her grin infectious.

The flash went off, and she let out a soft laugh. "You're always so good at this."

"What can I say? I've got a natural talent for fake enthusiasm," I joked.

The night wore on, and the initial stiffness melted into genuine fun. We found ourselves tucked into a corner booth, a small group gathered around us as Isabela went on, telling a story.

"So, there I am," she said, gesturing dramatically, "covered in fake blood, trying to explain to my Uber driver why I'm not a psychopath."

"Did you tip him extra?" I asked, grinning.

"Of course," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I'm not a monster."

The group erupted into laughter, and I couldn't help but feel lighter, more at ease.

At one point, she leaned closer, her voice low. "So, tell me—why aren't you dating someone? You're hot, funny, successful. What's the catch?"

I hesitated, the memory of Scarlett flashing in my mind. "Just a bit complicated."

She studied me for a moment, her playful smile softening. "Complicated can be fun," she said, her tone teasing but her eyes searching mine.

Before I could respond, another photographer approached, snapping a candid of us mid-laugh. Isabela didn't move away, her hand brushing mine as we both smiled for the camera.

"You know, it's always fun to have a distraction." Isabela whispered, with a smile still plastered on her face for the cameras.

I pondered it, if Dylan and Anna were here, they'd be trying to force me into taking Isabela back to my place and right about now, that kind of sounds like a good option.

.  .  .

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

"Alright, everyone, back to one!"

The director's voice boomed across the set, snapping me out of my daze. I adjusted my costume, forcing myself to focus. This scene required precision—raw emotion, sharp delivery—but my mind was somewhere else.

"Action!"

I launched into the lines, the words tumbling out with practiced ease. My co-star's face twisted in anguish, his performance flawless, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was Y/n—her voice, her laugh, the way she'd looked at me at Chris's party.

"Cut! Great work, Scarlett," the director said, his tone approving.

I nodded, stepping off the set and retreating to my trailer.

It had been a long day of shooting and quite honestly, I couldn't wait to be back home in my own bed. I'd been on set since 4 this morning, to say I'm exhausted would be an understatement.

Once inside my trailer, I grabbed my phone, intending to check emails. Instead, my fingers hovered over Instagram, the temptation too strong to resist.

The first thing I see as I start going through stories? A picture of Y/n with Isabela Merced.

They stood close, Isabela's hand resting lightly on Y/n's arm, both of them laughing. The caption read: "Dynamic duo! Merced and Evans graced our camera's again. New couple on the horizon?"

I clicked the link attached to the story.

"Merced and Evans have been pictured again, today at an event which had a fantastic turnout of all the latest influencers. With Y/n rumored to be the face of their next campaign, it was abundantly clear why she had all of the spotlight. What we and fans didn't expect to see was the closeness of Evans and Merced. Are we seeing a new couple bubbling on the horizon? Numerous event goers claim the two were very close and physical throughout the day, practically inseparable. Check out more images below!"

I scrolled down the site, there were at least 10 pictures of the two. Isabela's arm looped with Y/n's, Y/n staring and smiling at her. I stared at the images, my stomach twisting. The way Y/n smiled, the casual intimacy of their pose—it made something inside me tighten.

I went back to my feed, trying to find anything else to erase the images in my head, but I couldn't do it. Instead, I scrolled past, trying to push the image from my mind. But it stayed with me, haunting me.

I decided to grab my things and head home, my day on set was finished anyway and nothing better to take my mind off of things than spending time with my kids.

.  .  .

𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The city lights blurred past the window as I leaned back in the car, scrolling through my phone. Notifications from the event buzzed nonstop, my mentions filled with tags and comments.

The photo of me and Isabela had already gone semi-viral, with captions ranging from "Couple goals?" to "Name a better duo—we'll wait."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. People always loved to speculate.

A message popped up from Isabela: "After-party is dead without you. Come save me."

I typed back quickly: "Pretty sure I'd make it worse."

She replied almost immediately: "Impossible. Come on, I'll owe you."

I smiled, debating whether to go when another notification caught my eye. I had posted a picture of Isabela and I and Scarlett liked it.

Part of me wondered if she cared about seeing me with other girls, if it bothered her. To be honest, I wanted it to bother her, she made our night together seem like it was nothing really.

I sat there contemplating before asking my driver to take me to the afterparty, might as well spend the rest of the night with Isabela.

Y/n/n Evans 🤎:
I'm on my way, I guess I can play Knight in shining armor for the night 😙

I replied quickly as my driver headed to the venue. Isabela met me outside as she grabbed my hand. Camera's flashing as we made our way inside the venue, this should be fun.

.  .  .

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The house was quiet, the kids asleep, but my mind refused to settle. I poured myself a glass of wine and sank onto the couch, my phone balanced on my knee.

I didn't mean to open Instagram, but it was second nature at this point. The photo of Y/n and Isabela was still there, staring back at me like a challenge.

I clicked on it, scrolling through the comments. Words like "chemistry" and "power couple" made my chest tighten. Why did it bother me so much?

Because it should have been me standing next to her, laughing, leaning close, feeling her warmth.

My thumb hovered over the comment bar. I could say something—something funny, something sharp—but what would it accomplish? Instead, I locked my phone, tossing it onto the coffee table as frustration bubbled in my chest.

Florence's words echoed in my head: "You're allowed to want something, even if it's messy."

But messy wasn't safe. And I couldn't afford to take that risk.