My job is to keep Annabelle happy for the weekend, and despite getting off to a rough start in the car, so far I feel pretty confident that I’m succeeding. I suspect from the shy way she looks at me every now and then that she’s got a bit of a crush on me, which is fine; it makes our act more believable, and it’s actually kind of sweet.

I’m used to dealing with a more jaded type of woman, someone more like Annabelle’s Aunt Mila, who sees life as a series of transactions the way I do. Yes, Annabelle and I have a deal, but there’s something so wholesome about her and her simple desire for a decent boyfriend that I hardly feel like she’s using me at all.

I’m still after a connection with Zac Borstein, of course, but if I play my cards right, the Winters will think that putting me in touch with him was their idea all along. No harm, no foul.

As long as I’m careful not to lead Annabelle on too much, we’ll all get what we want.

Dinner with Annabelle’s family is fun. They joke and tease each other, but I can tell they really enjoy each other’s company. There are a lot of in-jokes and references that I don’t get, but they go out of their way to include me in the conversation and make sure I’m not left out.

Annabelle is quiet relative to the rest of her family, but she gets in a few funny one-liners, and when her dad asks her about her research, I’m impressed with how passionate she is. What she does is directly related to creating better hearing aids; it sounds like the perfect hearing aid is her personal Holy Grail. I’m tempted to ask her why she’s so interested in hearing aids, but I imagine that’s the sort of thing that as her boyfriend I should already know, so I don’t.

“What about you, Archer?” her dad asks. “What do you think of Annabelle’s obsession with hearing aids?”

“Annabelle is way, way too smart for me,” I say, truthfully enough. “I’ll be honest, I don’t understand half of what she just said.” Her family chuckles. “But I love how excited she gets about the subject,” I continue. “Going deaf must be pretty hard on people. If I were losing my hearing, I’d definitely want her on my side.”

I’ve tried to sound like a proud boyfriend without crossing the line into kissing ass, and from the approving look on her parents’ faces, I’ve succeeded.

Annabelle, too, flashes me a grateful look. “Aw, you’re sweet to put up with my geekiness,” she says, giving my arm an affectionate pat. She’s getting the hang of this pretend girlfriend bit.

Annabelle’s dad begins to grill me on my acting career. I’ve been braced for this since I met him—struggling actors probably aren’t a protective father’s first choice of boyfriend for his daughters—but I’m used to fielding questions, and I know how to strike a balance between projecting a positive attitude and sounding arrogant.

I mention the commercials, the radio ad voice-overs and sitcom walk-ons, and a few other things. I don’t even bother mentioning the handful of stage performances I’ve been involved in since moving to LA; they were just little community theater gigs, and the stage isn’t really my thing. Movies are where I want to be. The main point that I want to get across is that I’m serious about acting and that I’m getting steady work—enough to give me the confidence that I have what it takes.

“And he was in a Taylor Swift video!” Annabelle eagerly interjects. She goes on to describe the video in detail. The knowledge that she’s watched it since I last saw her gives me a funny warm feeling in my chest.

The video gets attention, as it usually does. I’d probably have brought it up eventually, but I have to admit, it’s kind of nice having someone else brag about me for once. Carina and her mother immediately pepper me with questions. People are usually disappointed to hear that I never actually met Taylor, although the video was cut to make it look like we’re in the same scene, but Carina brushes past that and asks me all about the production itself. Turns out she works for a high-end marketing firm. The director of my video has done a lot of commercials, and Carina has met him several times.

It occurs to me that Carina, too, is a good connection to have. I’m even more grateful now to have the opportunity to hang out with Annabelle’s family. I silently promise Annabelle that I’ll be the best weekend boyfriend she’s ever had.

After dinner, I try to help Annabelle and her sisters do the dishes, but the three of them have a routine that they’re used to, and I mostly just get in the way. They’re good sports about it, though. Even Brianna, the ice queen, cracks a smile at my ineptitude and makes a joke about how I’m just trying to make sure I don’t get asked to do any more chores.

After dinner, Brianna, Carina and Mr. Winter play cards, while Annabelle, her mother and I work on an enormous, 5000-piece jigsaw puzzle which is spread out over a table in the living room. Normally on a Saturday night, I’d be in a fashionable club or bar, trying to be seen, or on a date with an attractive woman. Doing a puzzle with Annabelle and her mom isn't nearly as exciting … but I reflect that it's a lot less expensive, and it's surprisingly relaxing.

Eventually, all the Winters except Annabelle drift off to bed. It’s only ten pm, but it’s been a long day and there’s something about the fresh lakeside air that’s making me relaxed and a little sleepy. I sit back in my chair and stretch, leaving Annabelle crouched over the puzzle.

“Ready for bed, sweetheart?” I ask her.

She ignores the endearment and continues to stare at the puzzle pieces. “I just want to get one more piece in,” she mumbles, trying to swallow a yawn.

Unable to resist the chance to tease her, I lean toward her. “What’s the matter?” I ask in a low voice. “Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

She glares at me. Even in the dim lamplight, I can tell her cheeks are flushed. “No!” she says a little too quickly. “I just … think it’s kind of an awkward situation, that’s all.”

I yawn, not bothering to try to hide it. “Don’t force me to carry you,” I threaten.

She looks at me sharply, not sure if I’m joking, and dismisses the threat. “You couldn’t carry me up a flight of stairs. I’m too heavy.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “You think I couldn’t carry a tiny little thing like you upstairs?” I ask. “Sounds like a challenge.” I stand and make my way over to her. I’m aware that I’m coming perilously close to flirting with her. The wiser course would be to maintain a friendly but professional distance, but something about her makes me want to push her buttons … and her boundaries.

She gets up hastily and makes for the stairs on her own two feet. I’m oddly disappointed—I guess part of me really did want to prove I could carry her up—but also relieved that at least one of us has some common sense. I’m not really sure how her parents would react to me carrying their youngest daughter to bed like a caveman.

I chuckle and follow her upstairs.

We take turns changing in the bathroom then reconvene in the bedroom. Annabelle crosses her arms and stares at the bed.

“Um, seriously, if you’re uncomfortable with this at all, I can get out the extra blankets and stuff,” she offers.

Okay, maybe I’m being kind of a jerk by not offering to sleep on the floor, but it’s hardwood covered with a braided rug. I’ve slept in worse places, but I can’t say it’s all that appealing. I’d rather have the couch downstairs, but that would probably make it look like we’ve had a fight or are just friends or something. I wouldn’t molest Annabelle anyway, but after my fight with Alex this morning and a long drive in the car, I’m wiped out and just looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Which is much more likely to happen in a bed than on a hard floor, extra blankets or not.

I sigh and give her a knowing look. “Look, I know you’re afraid you can’t trust yourself lying next to me all night—and I get that, I totally do—but I have faith that you can be a lady about it.” I grab one of the four pillows at the head of the bed. “Chastity pillow. We’ll put this between us so you won’t be able to accidentally grope me in the middle of the night. And in return, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. I promise.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but she’s smiling a little and I can see she’s conceded. She’s not ornery enough to make someone, even a near-stranger like me, sleep on the floor. And although it’s conceited of me to say it, I think part of her wants me in bed with her.

“Fine,” she huffs. I grin.

We climb into bed on our separate sides, I tuck the pillow between us, and Annabelle turns off the lamp on the bedside table.

The window is open. I can hear the soft lapping of the lake’s small waves against the shore and smell the fresh mountain air. Back in LA, it's almost impossible to see the stars over the bright city lights, but out here, thousands of them are scattered across the sky.

Beside me, Annabelle eventually relaxes into steady breathing that tells me she’s fallen asleep. I want to stay awake and just enjoy the peace and quiet here for a while longer, but eventually, I fall asleep too.