Like a rumour before it's real.
Elisa didn't leave the studio for two days.
Not because she had new commissions to finish- though there were plenty- but because every time she opened her social media, there was a new tag, a new headline, or a blurry photo that made her stomach twist.
Her name was everywhere.
But not for her art.
For her body. Her smile. Her dress. For the way Mateo Liriano had looked at her like she was more than a painter with something to say.
She wasn't sure what unnerved her more: the attention… or the part of her that secretly liked it.
Ava kept calling. At first to congratulate, then to check in, then just to make sure she hadn't died from self-consciousness.
On the third day, Elisa picked up.
"You're being dramatic," she said, the moment Ava's voice filled the line.
"You've been dodging the world like it has rabies."
"It does."
"Elisa, you trended on Twitter for being radiant. You're literally someone's phone wallpaper now."
"That's deeply disturbing."
"It's iconic. Also- he messaged me."
Elisa froze. "Who?"
"Mateo. He said he couldn't reach you and wanted to make sure you were okay."
Heat pooled in Elisa's chest. "He went through you?"
Ava's voice softened. "He said he wants to meet you. In person."
Elisa sighed, running a hand over her face. "What for?"
"He didn't say. But I don't think he's trying to flirt."
"Of course not. He's just… what? Checking in on the insecure artist he accidentally catapulted into gossip territory?"
"Maybe," Ava said. "Or maybe he respects you enough to want to speak like adults."
"I don't feel like an adult," Elisa muttered. "I feel like a deer caught in the headlights of designer flash photography."
"You looked amazing in that photo."
"I looked terrified."
"And sexy."
"I hate you."
"You love me," Ava chirped, then added, "I told him you'd meet him tomorrow. Don't wear anything you'd be buried in."
~ ~ ~
They met at a quiet bistro tucked behind a bookstore, the kind of place with only six tables and a handwritten chalkboard menu. Mateo had chosen it- of course. Elisa walked in five minutes late, already sweating through her blouse, wishing she'd worn anything else.
He was seated near the window, a cup of tea in front of him, back straight, phone untouched.
He rose when he saw her.
"Elisa," he said, like it was a question and an answer all at once.
"Mateo," she returned, more breathlessly than she intended.
He wore dark slacks and a soft gray shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearm, no jacket. Simple. Understated. Dangerous.
They sat.
The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just… loaded.
Finally, he said, "You disappeared."
"You made me a trending topic."
He didn't flinch. "That wasn't my intention."
"But it was your presence."
Mateo nodded slowly. "I wanted to check in. Make sure you're not drowning under attention you didn't ask for."
Elisa looked at him. "And?"
"You're floating. Barely. But you're still above water."
She scoffed. "You're observant."
"I try to be."
A waitresses arrived just then with a jug of water with a glass and poured.
"Thought you might be thirsty when you arrived seeing as you were slightly late" Mateo said.
"Why are you really here?" she asked. "Not the PR version. The truth."
He leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "I think we're at a crossroads."
"Of what?"
"Reality and perception." He steepled his fingers. "Right now, the media believes something that isn't true. That we're together. I can either issue a correction… or we can lean into it."
Elisa blinked. "You want to fake date me."
"I'm proposing a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"You mean a lie."
Mateo smiled faintly. "A narrative."
She shook her head. "Why? You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
"That's terrifying."
"Elisa." His voice was gentle. "The art world is watching you. Your work. Your face. Your figure. Whether you like it or not, you're a symbol now. And symbols can either be shaped by others… or reclaimed by the person behind them."
"So this is about control."
"It's about choice."
She stared down at her glass. "You want to manage how people see us."
"I want to help you decide how you're seen- before someone else decides for you."
"And in return?"
"I stay relevant to a new demographic. One I actually respect." He paused. "And I get to spend time with someone who intrigues me."
Her head snapped up. "You don't have to flirt with me to convince me."
"I'm not flirting."
"That's worse."
He smiled again, slow this time. "It wasn't meant as bait. Just honesty."
Elisa sipped her water to buy time. Her skin prickled with something uncomfortable. Not fear. Not desire. Something in-between.
"What would this… arrangement even look like?" she asked quietly.
"A few public appearances. A shared event. Maybe a staged photo here and there. No interviews. No kissing unless you initiate."
She laughed at that. "You're joking."
"I'm serious."
"You think I'm going to kiss you for optics?"
"I think you might want to kiss me, and I'm giving you space to decide."
She stared at him, stunned. He wasn't cocky. He wasn't even smiling. Just calm. Assured.
It was infuriating.
And worse- he was probably right.
"I need to think," she said.
"Of course."
"You're very confident."
He tilted his head. "I've spent a long time listening more than I speak. It helps."
She gathered her purse. "I'll let you know."
"Elisa," he said just as she stood. "I'm not asking you to pretend to be someone you're not."
She met his gaze. "But you are asking me to pretend."
He didn't argue.
Which, somehow, made it worse.
~ ~ ~
That night, Elisa returned to her studio.
She didn't paint. She didn't sleep.
She sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by canvases filled with versions of herself- sometimes faceless, sometimes defiant, sometimes soft and round and aching.
What would it mean to be seen… on purpose?
What would it mean to say yes, not because she wanted fame or drama or lust, but because she was tired of shrinking?
She wasn't sure.
But when her phone buzzed again and Mateo's name lit up the screen, she didn't hesitate.
Elisa: One outing. One photo. That's it- for now.
Mateo: Understood.
A moment later:
Mateo: I'll have a car sent for you Thursday.
Elisa: No need. I'll meet you there. I'm not fragile.
Mateo: No. You're not.
She didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
Because for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like a rumor waiting to be disproved.
She felt like a woman taking up space- on purpose.