Social Media War.
777 Words
Ivy's POV
The morning after our "rib-gate" dinner, the internet was already on fire. Being a viral skeptic is one thing, but being the woman caught in the arms of the man I promised to destroy was a different level of chaos.
My phone was vibrating so hard it was practically migrating across my nightstand. I didn't even have to open Twitter to know I was trending.
@TheRealIvyClark: Is the Queen of Heartbreak selling out? Caught in a clinch with the Code-King himself. Blink twice if you’re being held hostage by a smart-fridge, Ivy!
"Hostage? No," I muttered, dragging myself out of bed. "Undercover? Barely surviving."
My door chimes rang. It wasn't a knock; it was a rhythmic, digital sequence. Julian.
I opened the door to find him looking annoyingly fresh in a charcoal suit, holding two phones and a tablet. He stepped into my apartment, his eyes immediately scanning my messy living room,the stacks of research papers, the half-empty coffee mugs, and my vision board filled with "failed romance" statistics.
"Your environment is... non-linear," Julian said, his lip curling slightly as he navigated around a pile of books.
"It's called 'living,' Julian. You should try it between updates." I crossed my arms. "What are you doing here at eight A.M.?"
"We are hard-launching," he stated, tapping his tablet. "The paparazzi photo from last night was a 'leak.' Today, we take control of the narrative. I’ve prepared a series of synchronized posts for our accounts."
He turned the screen toward me. It was a picture of us from the restaurant,the lighting professionally color-graded, my messy rib-eating nowhere in sight. The caption read: The algorithm didn't just find a match; it found the missing variable in my life. #SoulScript #PerfectMatch #TheAlgorithmOfUs
I gagged. "The missing variable? Julian, that’s not a caption; that’s a bug report. If I post that, my followers will think I’ve had a lobotomy."
"It’s optimized for engagement," he insisted. "The AI predicted a 92% positive sentiment score for this specific phrasing."
"Well, my human intuition predicts a 100% chance of me being mocked into oblivion." I snatched his phone. "We’re doing it my way. Real. Gritty. Authentic."
I pulled him into the kitchen, where the light was harsh and there was a sink full of dishes. I grabbed a selfie of us—Julian looking stiff and terrified while I made a face and pointed at his 'perfect' tie.
Caption: Testing the glitch. Apparently, the CEO of SoulScript doesn't know how to handle a woman who drinks milk straight from the carton. 20 days left of this 'experiment.' #RobotVsHuman #TheGlitch
"You can't post that," Julian hissed, reaching for the phone. "There’s a dirty spatula in the background! It violates the brand aesthetic!"
"It is the aesthetic, Robot-Man!" I hit 'Post' before he could stop me.
Within seconds, the comments exploded.
@User88: Omg, look at his face! He looks like he’s calculating her expiration date.
@MatchMaker: Is this a prank? Ivy Clark and Julian Vane? The enemies-to-lovers trope is alive and well!
"See?" I showed him the screen. "Engagement is through the roof. People don't want 'Perfect Match'. They want to see the fight."
Julian stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the comments. "They’re... laughing at me."
"They’re laughing with us, Julian. Or at least, they’re interested." I softened my voice just a fraction. "If you want the board to believe this is real, you have to show them that you can handle a little mess."
He looked up from the phone, his gaze settling on mine. For a second, the 'Social Media War' felt very quiet. The distance between us in my cramped kitchen was suddenly much smaller than it had been in his glass office.
"I don't like mess, Ivy," he whispered, his eyes searching mine for a flicker of the data he understood.
"I know," I said, my heart doing that annoying 'glitch' again. "But you’re stuck with me for three weeks. You better get used to the spatula."
The moment was shattered by his phone blaring a high-pitched alarm.
"What now?" I asked. "Another 'missing variable'?"
Julian checked the screen, his jaw tightening. "My board of directors. They saw the post. They’ve called an emergency meeting to discuss the 'unorthodox' marketing strategy. And they want you there, Ivy."
I smirked, grabbing my purse. "Well then, let’s go give them a show."
As we walked to the door, I didn't notice Julian glance back at the 'dirty spatula' in the sink,or the small, almost imperceptible smile that played on his lips before he wiped it away.
The war was far from over, but the algorithm was definitely starting to sweat.
- Writer
