Chapter 3: Birthday Lies and Boyfriend Wars

I turned to look. A couple had just walked in, bringing a chill with them. The guy wore a simple but expensive white shirt, his looks clean and sharp, but his vibe didn’t fit the scene. He frowned, clearly forced to be here. The girl beside him had long, caramel curls and a pink off-shoulder dress—cute and bubbly, eyes wide as she took everything in.

They looked like they’d stepped out of a catalog for ‘Wholesome America’—but honestly, they didn’t belong here.

"Hey, isn’t that Ben Sinclair, the guy the Harringtons have supported since he was a kid? And the girl with him…"

Someone whispered, gossiping glances flying toward Charlotte.

I caught the whispers, saw the way people leaned in, hungry for drama. The air felt thick with secrets.

But Charlotte just lowered her head, fussing with her already perfect skirt.

She smoothed the fabric over and over, like she could erase the tension with her fingers.

After a few seconds, she stood up abruptly, still looking flustered. “Ben, over here.”

Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled as she waved him over. The whole room seemed to freeze.

Ben’s gaze swept over, taking in everyone at the booth. His lips pressed tight as he walked over, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

He moved with a quiet confidence that comes from always being watched and judged. I recognized it right away.

I raised an eyebrow, sizing him up from across the room. Not as handsome as me, not as tall as I was with my lifts—just more… cool and distant.

He had that Ivy League vibe that made people listen even when he said nothing. I wondered what secrets he was hiding.

As they got closer, I noticed Ben was holding a small gift bag.

It was neatly wrapped, with a little silver bow. Charlotte’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw it.

“…Happy birthday.” He handed over the gift.

His voice was low, almost reluctant, but Charlotte’s face lit up like Times Square.

Charlotte’s eyes sparkled as she took the bag with both hands. “Thank you! Ben, I love it!”

She hugged the bag to her chest, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. For a second, the old Charlotte peeked through.

Then, realizing she’d overreacted, she blushed and cleared her throat. She turned to me. “Ash, this is Ben Sinclair. Ben, this is Ash Carter, my… boyfriend.”

The word ‘boyfriend’ slipped out light, but it carried a punch.

It hung in the air, daring anyone to challenge it. I gave Ben a polite nod, waiting for his reaction.

Ben looked at me for a few seconds, then looked away. No emotion at all—

His face was a blank slate, but his eyes flickered with something sharp.

Until a little fist thumped his arm.

“Ben, that’s so mean!”

Not only was Ben caught off guard, but Charlotte’s smile froze too.

The girl pouted, cheeks puffed out. Ben blinked, totally thrown.

“How could you forget to tell me today was Miss Harrington’s birthday? I didn’t bring anything, and now I’m here empty-handed—how embarrassing!”

She looked ready to cry, her big eyes shimmering. I almost felt bad for her.

The girl thumped Ben a few more times, then apologized to Charlotte again and again. "I’m sorry! Miss Harrington, I really didn’t know it was your birthday. I’ll make it up to you next time…"

She leaned so far forward her curls brushed the table. Charlotte looked startled, but managed a polite smile.

She looked so timid, it was like she’d burst into tears if Charlotte scolded her.

Her apology was so sincere, I almost wanted to give her my drink.

“No need to apologize, it’s nothing important.” Ben frowned, stepping between them. “She’s cool with it.”

He didn’t care about being hit, his tone a mix of helplessness and fondness, like he was calming a kid.

He ruffled her hair, and she immediately settled down. Weirdly sweet.

I noticed Charlotte’s fingers tightening on the gift bag, knuckles white. That ‘she’s cool with it’ was both an excuse for the girl and a dig at Charlotte.

The words stung, and I saw Charlotte shrink into herself, shoulders curling in.

—He made the decision for her, without even looking at her.

He didn’t see her, not really. I wondered how long she’d put up with that.

Now I got why Charlotte hired me to play her boyfriend.

Suddenly, it all made sense. She needed someone on her side, even if it was just for show.

I stood up. “You’re right.”

I said it loud enough for everyone to hear, making sure Ben got the message.

Then, I gently draped my arm around Charlotte’s shoulders.

She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. I could feel her pulse racing under my hand.

"Char really doesn’t care about people who don’t matter."

I let the words hang, daring anyone to disagree. The room went quiet, all eyes on us.

Charlotte’s shoulders trembled, her hazel eyes wide with surprise.

She blinked, lips parting like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. For a second, it was just the two of us.

I gave her a small smile and sat back down, still holding her close. When you’re paid, you do the job right. In this business, nothing matters more than protecting your client—in games or real life.

I squeezed her shoulder gently, letting her know I had her back. Whatever happened next, we were in it together.

Ben finally looked at me straight on, frowning even harder. The girl’s eyes went wide, a flash of surprise lighting them up.

He glared, but I met his eyes, not backing down.

It was also the first time Charlotte had seen me smile. She paused, then remembered to say, "Ben, Ava, please sit down. Tonight’s just a casual get-together, no need to be formal."

Her voice was steady, but her hands shook as she gestured to the seats.

Ben pressed his lips together. He didn’t reply, just pulled out chairs for the girl and himself. But his straight back and clenched jaw made it obvious how much he hated being there.

He sat stiffly, arms crossed, eyes darting between me and Charlotte. I hid a smirk behind my glass.

The server came over to take orders. The girl glanced at the pricey menu, looking lost. “Um, I don’t really know these…”

She bit her lip, scanning the menu like it was written in code. I remembered my first time at a place like this—terrifying.

“She’ll have orange juice,” Ben said, cool as ever. “I’ll just have lemon water.”

He barely looked at the menu, like he’d already decided nothing here was worth it.

The simplicity made me feel a weird kinship. I glanced at Ben again, but he ignored me.

I shrugged, taking another sip. If he wanted to play the ice king, fine by me.

“Ben, you can order something else. Tonight’s on me…” Charlotte tried, her voice soft, almost habitually deferential.

She looked at him hopefully, but he just shook his head, unmoved.

“Thanks, but no. I didn’t want to come here in the first place, so there’s no need to spend money.”

His words were polite, but the message was clear: not here to celebrate.

Ben cut her off, polite but sharp as ever.

I watched Charlotte’s face fall, her eyes clouding over. She tried to hide it, but I saw the pain flicker through.

Charlotte’s shoulders trembled again. She couldn’t take it anymore, clapped a hand over her mouth, and stood up. “Sorry… I need the restroom.”

She bolted, heels clicking on the tile. I wanted to follow, but knew that’d just make things worse.

“I’ll go with you!” the girl jumped up to follow.

She hurried after Charlotte, leaving the rest of us in awkward silence.

For a moment, it was just me and Ben at the booth. The others, sensing the tension, all pretended to be deep in conversation.

Someone started talking about the Knicks, but nobody was listening.

With the heiress gone, I relaxed, leaning back with my drink—just missing a cigarette to complete the picture.

I toyed with the glass, watching the condensation drip down my fingers. The silence between us stretched thin.

Ben’s gaze lingered on me, sizing me up.

He checked me out, eyes narrowed. I met his stare, not blinking.

I turned my face so he could get a good look. “Like what you see?”

I dropped my voice, teasing. If he wanted a showdown, I’d give him one.

Caught off guard by my direct stare, Ben stiffened like a deer in headlights.

He blinked, lips pressed tight. For a second, I thought he might actually answer.

...

The silence dragged on, thick and heavy.

“If you don’t say anything, I’ll take that as a yes.”

I grinned, flashing just enough teeth to make it a challenge.

—A yes, given he had no clue I was actually a girl.

I almost laughed at the irony. If only he knew.

“…How long have you two been together?” Ben suddenly asked.

His voice was sharp, slicing through the tension.

I raised my glass, answering quick. “What’s it to you?”

I kept it light, but my eyes never left his. This was a game, and I was winning.

Ben’s eyes were frosty, but finally showed a flicker of something real. "Your manners are as cheap as your clothes."

He said it like an insult, but I just smiled, letting it slide.

I finished my drink, the alcohol burning all the way down.

I set the glass down with a little too much force, but kept my face cool.

"Guess being the rich family’s scholarship kid really makes a difference," I laughed. "Even your insults are fancier. Must be nice, huh?"

I gave him a slow clap, just to drive it home.

Ben finally turned to face me full on, gaze sharp as a blade. "You’re the paid gaming partner Charlotte kept hiring lately, aren’t you?"

His words hung there, daring me to deny it.

“You tell me.” I kept my tone calm, with a hint of challenge. “Got a problem with that?”

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, meeting his glare head-on.

"I don’t," Ben said, staring at me, "but the Harringtons will. They’re not ordinary people. You really think a guy who plays games for cash has a shot with her?"

He spat it out like it tasted bad. I could see the jealousy bubbling underneath.

The light threw shadows on his jaw, making him look even sharper.

His fists clenched in his lap, knuckles white. Did he even know how obvious he was?

I smirked. “You should be asking yourself that.”

I let it hang, watching his reaction. He didn’t flinch, but his eyes narrowed.

Annoyance flashed in Ben’s eyes. “Don’t change the subject. Do you really think Charlotte likes you?”

His voice was icy. “She’s just using you to make me jealous.”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. I almost felt bad for him.

“Oh, so you know.” I raised an eyebrow. “If you know, why’d you bring that girl with you? Trying to prove you don’t care?”

I shot him a look, daring him to deny it.

Ben’s face stiffened, then quickly regained its chill. “Ava and I are just in the same research group. She asked me to bring her, that’s all…”

He said it too quick, eyes darting away. I almost laughed.

“Yeah, yeah.” I couldn’t be bothered to listen.

I waved him off, taking another sip. His excuses were as flimsy as my cucumber prop.

He figured I didn’t believe him, and looked even more annoyed. “Listen, I don’t care who you are or what deal you have with Charlotte, but I suggest you back off now.”

His voice was low, almost threatening. I just smiled, unfazed.

“Or what?”

I raised an eyebrow, daring him to make a move.

“Or you’ll regret it,” Ben said, voice cold. “The Harringtons are out of your league.”

He leaned back, arms crossed, like he’d just dropped the mic.

I chuckled. “And you? Aren’t you out of your league too?”

I let it hang, watching the color rise in his cheeks.

Ben’s face went ice-cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He glared at me, jaw tight. I just shrugged, like, whatever.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I bet you have feelings for Charlotte, but your pride won’t let you admit it. Now that she’s with someone else, you can’t stand it.”

I watched the truth hit him, saw his eyes flicker. He opened his mouth, then shut it.

Ben froze. After a moment, he was about to reply when footsteps sounded from the restroom.

The spell broke, and we both looked up as the girls returned.

Maddie was back, supporting a pale-faced Charlotte, with Ava trailing behind, looking startled. Behind them, the guy Maddie had dragged off was carrying a wobbly redhead.

The whole group looked like they’d been through a tornado. I sat up straighter, ready for round two.

I looked up and locked eyes with Carter—his gaze still sharp despite his drunkenness.

He stared at me, eyes narrowed, like he remembered exactly what happened in the bathroom. My heart skipped, but I kept my face blank.

My smile tightened.

I forced a smile, bracing for whatever was next. The night was far from over.

Great. The guy I clocked with a cucumber was back on his feet at the worst possible time.

I tried not to laugh. Only in New York, right?