Influenced by You

1. W Flirtation

Are we really doing this?" Nyela muttered under her breath as the Eiffel Tower glittered faintly in the distance through the foggy window of the Uber.

The camera mounted on the dashboard blinked red recording. Of course it was.

"Oui, mademoiselle," Justin said, his terrible French accent on full display. He shot her a grin that was way too confident for someone with a backwards hat and a hoodie that still had a tag peeking out. "We're in Paris. The city of love, croissants, and regrettable decisions made for Twitch clout."

Nyela smirked, crossing one leg over the other. "So you're finally self-aware. That's something new."

Justin clutched his chest like she'd wounded him. "Wow. And here I was thinking this trip was going to bring us closer."Guess I was overly tripping."

"This trip is content, Justin. Don't get it twisted." Nyela said rolling her eyes.

He leaned in grinning his signature smile, the one that sent hundreds of his female fans into emoji frenzies during streams creeping across his lips. "Who says content and connection can't co-exist?"

Nyela rolled her eyes. "You're 23."

"And you're 26. That's barely a commercial break of a difference." He said still giving her the same flirty look.

She gave him a look. "You were still in high school when Vine died."

He laughed. "Okay, boomer."

"Excuse me?!"

"Sorry, sorry. Gen Z Elder."

"Wow."

The Uber driver chuckled in the front seat, clearly entertained. Justin gave him a thumbs up like they were bros now.

Nyela looked out the window, trying not to smile. She wasn't about to admit it, but Justin was... entertaining. That's why this little "romantic arc" their fans started shipping had any traction in the first place. Their chemistry was real, even if she'd never date someone who thought In-N-Out was an acceptable third-date dinner.

Still, when their Twitch comments flooded with "#JyelaForever" and edits of their streams started going viral on TikTok, her manager had floated the idea: lean into it. One trip, a couple of vlogs, maybe even a fake kiss if the moment felt right. High engagement, low commitment. Simple.

Except now she was sitting in an Uber in Paris with a camera pointed at her and Justin acting like this was his real life rom-com audition.

"You nervous?" he asked, lowering his voice.

She turned to him, eyebrow raised. "About what?"

"Spending a week in Europe with me. Pretending you're not falling in love."

Nyela scoffed. "You're delusional."

"Delusion is just confidence in a tuxedo."

"More like in a Twitch hoodie and dirty sneakers."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Yet you're still here."

"The algorithm dragged me here," she said dryly. "Not my heart."

The car rolled to a stop in front of a boutique hotel with flower boxes in the windows and little golden lights strung across the awning. Justin hopped out first, reaching for her suitcase like some kind of wannabe gentleman.

"I can get my own bag," she said.

"I know," he replied, hoisting it out anyway. "But chivalry gets clicks."

"You're the worst," she muttered, grabbing the handle from him.

"Not what you'll say after I take you to the best crêpe spot in Montmartre," he said, shouldering his backpack. "Guaranteed to make you fall in love with the food. And maybe... me."

She laughed, despite herself. "Keep dreaming, Twitch boy."

Inside, the hotel lobby smelled like lavender and old books. It was quiet, elegant, and probably way too nice for two people about to fake-date on camera for the internet.

At the front desk, the receptionist smiled at them in soft French. Justin panicked.

"Uh... reservation for uh me? Justin? And this is my... uh..." He paused, eyes flicking toward her with a mischievous glint. "Wife."

Nyela's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"

"Shh," he whispered behind a hand. "For the aesthetic."

She smacked his arm lightly as the receptionist handed over their key cards, clearly too polite to question the relationship dynamics of American influencers.

In the elevator, Nyela shook her head. "I'm not playing wife in any of your bit content."

"Noted," Justin said, leaning against the mirrored wall. "Maybe just mysterious lover with a complicated past?"

"You're lucky you're cute," she muttered.

"Ohhh," he said, eyes lighting up. "Did Nyela Jones just call me cute on camera? Clip that!"

"I will unplug your entire streaming setup while you sleep."

He chuckled, unbothered. "So violent. So hot."

She couldn't help but laugh. He was impossible to hate.

When they reached their suite a spacious room with twin beds, a balcony, and a view of the city Justin immediately dove onto one of the beds like a kid at summer camp.

"This is insane," he said. "We're literally in Paris. I've only seen places like this in Assassin's Creed."

Nyela set down her bag and pulled open the balcony door, letting in the hum of the city and the faint clink of wine glasses from the café across the street. The view really was gorgeous. She sighed.

"Worth it?" Justin said from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder. He was holding the camera again, filming her silhouette against the Paris skyline.

"Ask me after I've had wine," she said. "And maybe a pastry."

"That's what I like to hear," he grinned, putting the camera down. "First date starts tomorrow. Eiffel Tower picnic. I even bought you a beret."

"You're kidding."

"I am not."

She turned, arms crossed. "This better not be some knockoff nonsense."

"Nyelah. I may be young, but I have taste."

She eyed his outfit. "Debatable."

"Again with the bullying," he said, mock pouting. "It's like you want me to write sad lofi songs about you."

She walked past him toward the bathroom. "If I end up in a verse, at least make sure it rhymes."

"That's fair."

He watched her disappear behind the door, then looked down at the camera in his hand. He hesitated for a second, then hit stop.

The room was quiet without the red light blinking.

This trip was supposed to be all jokes, all performance. But there was something about her sharp, funny, just hard enough to keep him on his toes that made Justin wonder if maybe, just maybe, the fans weren't entirely wrong.

Maybe Jylela wasn't such a ridiculous ship after all.

But first... pastries.