it's not real// leah williamson

three

True to her word, Leah arrived promptly at 11 am. the next day, just as she promised. It was a bright morning in St Albans, and as she whisked me away to one of her favourite local cafés, I couldn't help but notice the charming sights along the way.

Leah had her country playlist on full blast during the drive, and while her enthusiasm for the genre was palpable, I couldn't hide my bewilderment. As a music artist myself, the twangy tunes assaulting my ears left me questioning how anyone could genuinely enjoy such music.

Upon arriving at the café, Leah, true to her hospitable nature, rushed to open my car door. I must admit, her chivalrous gesture did elicit an eye roll from me, though I couldn't deny the sincerity behind it.

"Thanks, Leah," I muttered as I stepped out of the car, trying to maintain a semblance of politeness.

"Adelaide, try to show a little kindness, will you? We're supposed to be playing the part of a couple, remember?" Leah chided me, a hint of frustration in her voice.

Suppressing a scoff, I reluctantly intertwined my fingers with hers, playing along with the charade as we made our way into the café.

Seated across from each other, I eagerly grabbed a menu while Leah, already familiar with the offerings, declined one. It was a small detail, but it spoke volumes about her frequent visits to this establishment.

Our waiter approached, and Leah wasted no time in placing her order, opting for her usual brunch fare with a few modifications. Meanwhile, I scanned the menu, settling on avocado toast with a playful request to keep the tomatoes, knowing I could pilfer them from Leah's plate later.

As the waiter departed to fulfil our orders, Leah's knowledge of my preferred drink caught me off guard. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that hinted at a deeper level of connection than I had anticipated. The realization softened my gaze as I watched her, silently grateful for the effort she had put into getting to know me.

Before long, our peaceful moment was shattered by the excited squeals of fans recognizing Leah. With a resigned sigh, I watched as she graciously indulged their requests for photos, momentarily shifting into celebrity mode before returning to our table.

As we sat together, savouring our meals, I couldn't help but ponder the complexities of our arrangement. How had I found myself entangled in this faux romance, and where would it lead?

☆☆☆

As Leah's car enveloped us once again in the twangy melodies of country music, I couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh. It seemed like the universe was determined to subject me to this auditory torture at every turn.

"So... Adelaide..." Leah's voice broke through the cacophony as we idled at a red light. "What's it like being a music artist?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the relentless banjo strumming. "It's... it's fun," I replied, struggling to be heard over the din. "I enjoy expressing myself through my songs, although it's sometimes overshadowed by the fact that many in Australia only know me as Sam's little sister and follow me because of that."

Leah nodded thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. "Well, I can say that you're a good music artist. I was listening to your music before we met."

A wry smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I mumbled under my breath, "I don't know if I should be insulted at that."

Leah's head whipped around, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "What is that meant to mean?" she demanded, her tone a mix of confusion and offence.

I chuckled softly, shaking my head in amusement before turning my attention to the passing scenery outside the car window. The irony of being criticized for my taste in music by someone who adamantly championed country tunes was not lost on me.